Fanfic: The Road to Detroit is Paved With Hell
Beta: borgmama1of5 – World’s best editor and all-around muse! Thanks to zatnikatel for the encouragement.
Summary: Post-Abandon All Hope. Lucifer wants Sam to say yes. He wants Dean back in Hell. And he's tired of playing nice. Sam and Dean will never know what hit them.
Spoilers: Set in Season 5. Follows 5X10 Abandon all Hope
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby, Lucifer
Rating: T (mature themes, strong language)
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke -- who'd best treat them well
Author's Note: Story is 18 chapters plus epilogue (approx 55k words). Complete. Will post over several days. Show has been/will be in hiatus for 8 weeks. But we know the boys aren't just sitting in a motel room waiting to go back to work stopping the Apocalypse. My beta says I have filled in the missing weeks, which is not what I started out to do. But the original six chapters just kinda took off ...
Go back to chapter , , 
“Dean, Dean … DEAN!”
Dean stares uncomprehendingly at Cas.
“We’re here. Take your brother inside.”
They are standing outside an emergency room. Dean blinks rapidly, world spiraling. What?! Sam is on the ground at his feet. Sammy. He kneels and feels his brother’s pulse. Alive. He scans the area for policemen but they are alone. How? Where is Lucifer?
“Help! My brother needs help!” he shouts because it’s all he can do.
Sam is wheeled into an examination room as Dean stumbles alongside. His brother’s blood is on his hands, his shirt, his face. He expects to be carted away in handcuffs any second and grips the gurney carrying Sam with an iron fist. A nurse asks if he’s okay, speaks gently to him but Dean’s eyes stay glued on Sam. Lucifer can’t have him. It will not end this way.
Another man approaches. Young, Hispanic, blue scrubs. “Please, sir. We need you to step back and let the doctors treat your brother. Wait here.” He points to the back of the small treatment room. They don’t ask Dean to leave. Not that it would matter. He’s not letting Sammy out of his sight.
White coats swarm. Dean struggles to see, to hear. Words impinge on the jello that is his mind … knife wound, laceration, internal bleeding, CT. A hand on his shoulder makes him jump.
“Cas! You have to stop doing that.”
“Sorry. I thought you needed me.”
The caring in Castiel’s gaze threatens to undo him. “Do you know … is Sam’s liver still there?”
“Yes,” Cas replies.
Dean slumps and Castiel steadies him, hand on his elbow. “Cas, Lucifer was … is … here. Sam is dying and Lucifer’s going to take him.” Dean’s voice is as hoarse as when he screamed under Alastair’s knife.
“That did not happen, Dean.”
“But it did! The police blamed me … said I mutilated … Lucifer was in the hospital.”
Cas, troubled, touches Dean’s chin and pulls his head forward so their eyes meet. “Lucifer is strong, Dean. Never forget this. He’s been holding back but now it seems he is prepared to unleash his full power. He can manipulate the unconscious. Not only when you are asleep.”
“Waking dreams?” Dean asks in a whisper. “It wasn’t … Sam’s okay?”
“Mr. Crosby? Your brother is being taken for a CT so we can ascertain internal damage. The cut was quite deep and his liver’s been lacerated. You can wait here if you wish. We’ll bring him back shortly. He’s lost a lot of blood but we’ve stabilized him. Can you tell us what happened?”
“An accident,” Dean says. “Sharpening a knife.”
The young doctor nods, jots down a note and walks away. Cas is gone. Dean’s head is reeling like he’s been chewed up by the Wendigo and spit back out. Sam has his liver. It wasn’t real.
A heartbeat later, Cas is back.
Dean pounces on him. “You said Sam was with Lucifer … was that a dream?”
“Yes. The sigils are still protecting you both. He does not know where you are.”
“So how did you know…?”
“Lucifer is my brother. As angels we are connected. I sensed … remnants of Lucifer floating in Sam’s subconscious. This can only come from such a dream.”
“Do I have these remnants?”
A moment’s study, then Cas answers, “Yes.”
“Can he track Sam and me through you?”
“No. I cannot tell where Lucifer is and he cannot find my location. We both have protections against this.”
The doctor is back. “The knife lacerated your brother’s liver, but fortunately no other organs were damaged. There’s still some internal bleeding but we want to wait and see if it stops on its own. If we can avoid surgery that’s preferable. We also noticed bruising to the back of his skull. Did your brother fall down or was he struck in the back of the head with anything? He has a concussion.”
Dean stares blankly because he doesn’t know, wasn’t there for whatever went down with the Baykok. He answers honestly. “He was out cold when I found him. It’s possible he fell and hit his head. I’m sorry … I hadn’t noticed.”
“It’s okay. Of course you were concerned with the abdominal wound. Your first aid saved your brother’s life.”
The doctor’s words twist his insides with how close he came to being too late. The Devil’s nightmare still snakes through his mind.
“Can I see him?” he begs.
The doctor isn’t sure about the idea. “He’s sedated for pain, pretty out of it. We’ll have to keep monitoring the bleeding and run another CT in an hour or so.” He relents at Dean’s pleading stare. “Okay … only for a few minutes.” He turns to Castiel. “Are you family, too?”
“I am a friend,” Cas says softly.
Dean wishes Sam could hear Cas say this. He needs them on the same side. Before Lilith … Cas all the angels had threatened Sam. Dean knows now that they were lying double crossers who wanted to help push Sam dark. But at the time it had scared the wits out of him, Sam ready to take on the heavenly hosts, so full of his demon juice that he maybe coulda done it. But that wasn’t his brother now …
“I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “Just family for now. Later, when we get the patient stabilized, we’ll allow other visitors.”
Dean thanks the doctor and looks briefly at Cas.
“I’ll wait here, Dean,” Cas says simply. Dean starts toward the room the doctor came from, thinks of something.
“Dude, my car?”
Cas’s face approximates a smile. “It’s in the hospital parking lot.”
* * *
“Dean, c’mon, just let me get out of here,” Sam whines for the hundredth time.
Dean inhales in a long-suffering manner but his eyes contradict the annoyed act. “You can’t. Not yet. They are watching your noggin for the concussion and your middle for signs of bleeding. They aren’t going to release you until tomorrow at the earliest, so chill, dude.”
Dean leaves in search of coffee.
Sam hates this involuntary captivity. They can’t stay here. Lucifer’s threat to Dean is preying on him. Sam … a deal is deal. Dean has welshed long enough. It’s time for him to come back. Welsh. Even the word repulses. Sam wants to get up, to pace his anxiety out. Needs his laptop. Must be a way he can get Dean out of this. Not being able to keep Dean from going to Hell the first time hurt Sam’s insides worse than the knife wound. Hell kept a part of Dean’s soul. His brother has given more than any one human should be asked to give. This can’t happen again. Sam will not survive it a second time.
Cas walks in. “Hello Sam. How are you feeling?”
Sam looks behind him for Dean but Cas is alone.
This isn’t the first time Cas has been by and his visits surprise Sam. It is hard to reconcile the angel’s current concern with Cas’s blunt prior assessment that Sam is responsible for the Apocalypse, because he made the wrong choice. As if Sam needs a reminding of his failures. As if every day he isn’t aware that the entire world is fucked to hell because him.
“Like I told Dean, I think I’m good enough to leave here.”
Cas gives him that damn angel head tilt. “The doctors wish to monitor you a little longer. You should listen to them. Dean would not want to risk your leaving too soon and jeopardizing your health.”
Dean. Always, it goes back to Dean. Sam thinks of his brother and Castiel. How they speak without words. How the unintentionally funny things Cas says make Dean smile like he can remember happy. Dean used to look at Sam like that -- trust so complete it was a physical bond. Now all he sees is wariness in his brother’s eyes. Worse, Sam even thinks Dean may be scared of him. Does he see Lucifer shining out from his eyes? Is Dean simply waiting for the day when he will finally follow their father’s fateful words and kill him?
“I’ll follow doctor’s orders,” he tells Cas. “How’s Dean doing?”
“He was worried about you. But now that you are better I believe he will be fine.”
Sam hasn’t said anything yet to anyone about Lucifer’s threat. Can’t find the words. Doesn’t want to put that weight on his brother. Dean carries too much already. Still has nightmares. Chokes and cries and curses in his sleep. And now this threat is back.
“Cas … while I’m out of commission can you stay … have Dean’s back?”
“Of course, Sam. In the meantime, you should rest. Build back up your strength. We all have much ahead of us. But remember the path is not set. You must stay strong. Choose wisely.”
Sam mutters thanks but feigns tiredness and Cas mercifully leaves. Choose wisely. Not like last time when you set Lucifer free. The Devil is getting stronger, is getting to him. The dream in the cave replays on a constant loop. The power He had, the blinding grace. How can Sam be expected to overcome this?
God, he wants to go somewhere and hide. A rocky beach with gently rolling waves. Jess and he used to head to Half Moon Bay for stolen long weekends a lifetime ago. When he closes his eyes he can hear her giggle as the water tickled her toes. She’d kiss him long and hard and hungry for what felt like hours as the sun would melt and a chill set on the shore. Then they’d return to their room and the warmth of each other’s body would make the chill vanish. Sam pushes the ache from the memory away. That Sam died with Jess.
Dean returns sipping from a Styrofoam cup and stops short as he sees Sam running his palm across his eyes.
“’S nothing. I’m fine.”
Dean pulls a chair up to Sam’s bed and sips at his coffee again before placing it on the bedside table. “No. You’re not. It’s time we talk about this.”
Sam stares at Dean unsure of what he means.
“I know about Lucifer. He gave me one of those awake dreams, too.”
Dean is looking at him with an all too familiar mixture of wariness and distrust and Sam thinks, shit, I should have said something right away because now the suspicion is radiating off his brother like smoke from a chimney.
“I’m sorry Dean,” Sam says. Too little, too late. The damn story of his life.
“I don’t want an apology, Sam. I want to know what he said to you. He wants us apart. Isolated. Easier to pick us off that way.”
Sam nods but isn’t ready … hasn’t yet come up with a way to tell Dean that Lucifer plans to return him to Hell. He feints. “He came to you, too? When? When I was in the cave with the Baykok?”
“One at a time little brother. You first.”
Of course he has to go first. Whatever Lucifer said to him has clearly jeopardized the world more than anything Dean has ever done. Guilt slaps down his anger. That isn’t fair. It’s not Dean’s fault. Never was. Sam’s the tainted one. Lucifer’s chosen vessel.
“We were in a fancy room. Like a wing of an art museum or an old mansion. He knew … knew I was in trouble. Asked where I was. I didn’t tell him.”
Dean looks at him hard. “Good,” he says. “Did he ask you to say yes again?”
“No. Well, not directly.”
Now he has his brother’s attention. “Out with it Sam. What was the threat?”
Dean is screaming, writhing on the floor, his jeans disintegrate in jagged bloody streaks, scarlet jets geyser from his chest as his life spills out of him and the Hell Hounds drag him to…
“He threatened me, didn’t he Sammy?”
“He said that … he is going to take you back to Hell. The contract’s not broken. The Hell Hounds in Carthage are just the beginning.”
Go to Chapter 5