One shot…I thinkOur Hell
It was hell. He could be in no other place. His father was there, yelling, telling him he was a failure. His mom, who he didn't even really know, was there. Telling him that she was sorry, sorry that she ever had him. Ashamed of the person he had become. Jess was in the background, asking him why. Telling him she would never have died if he had only told the truth.
Sam wasn't crying. He was too far gone. He had cried his tears and now he was just curled up, trying to fight the voices. Everybody was there, telling him everything he had feared. Every horrible thing he had thought about himself was being yelled into his ears.
Every word that was said made his body feel like it was on fire. It burned through him like acid. Pain like nothing he ever knew speared through his entire body. It was continuous, and never ending.
It was horrible, but it was not the physical pain that had finally broken Sam. It was not the voice of his mother that broke him. His father's voice, always critical, always accusing didn't break him. Nor was it his beloved Jess's voice. Her sweet, soft voice turned fierce and violent, continually asking why.
No, it was his brother. The one who always told him not to worry, always said that their deaths was not Sam's fault, was there telling him that he hated him. Dean was there, telling him that he was dead because of him. And that hurt, and that broke him.
"You have to give up a soul within your care." The demon, or a demon, Dean couldn't be sure, was standing before him, after seemingly appearing out of thin air.
Dean almost nodded but Sam grabbed his arm. . "Dean, no! Please. Please, don't do this. It's not worth it!" Dean looked at Sam, shaking his head, avoiding his little brother's gaze. Blood was staining Sam's shirt, and that's what Dean was looking at. That's what Dean was doing this for. Dean knelt there, by his little brother's broken body. A bleeding chest wound, broken bones, and probably more bruises than either him or Sam could count. Sam's face was hardly even recognizable. And they were in the middle of a desert, Nevada, too far away from anything, or anyone, to save Sam in time, even with the Impala sitting a mere few feet away. .
A job gone wrong, and Dean was forced to think of a life without his brother. Even the mere thought sent a sharp pain in his chest. He couldn't do it, couldn't live. Not now, not after their father…
"Dean, please. If this is the last thing I ask you…please don't do this."
But Dean shook his head. "I can't Sammy. I can't…I can't do this without you." His soul, it wasn't that big of a price to pay. But Sam's plea reverberated through his head. How would Sam live, knowing his brother had sacrificed himself for him. If he felt as half as bad as Dean did when their father had traded himself for Dean, then Sam wouldn't survive.
The demon stepped forward, and the deserts moon finally shed enough light for Dean to make out the figure before him. A man, looking about his late forties, with dark hair, was glaring, leering at him. The man smiled. "How about this: 24 hours. I take a soul within your care for 24 hours. I will heal your brother's body. Twenty-four hours. That's all. And at the end of 24 hours, the soul will be returned to the body."
Sam was shaking his head, but Dean knew that he needed to do this. Twenty-four hours. Before Sam could talk him out of it, Dean stepped up put his hand out to the demon. The demon took it before he could even blink. Almost as soon as the demon had his hand he let go. Then the demon went over to Sam's body, his hand hovering.
Sam arched, yelling, screaming. Dean threw himself on the demon, but was stopped mere inches. An invisible force held him away. He watched as his brother's body convulsed, and then a light seemed to come from Sam's body. Then it was over.
Dean felt the invisible force let go, and if it wasn't years of training, he might have fallen to the ground. Dean studied himself before pushing the demon away from his little brother's body.
It took only moments to realize that Sam's bruises were gone. Dean's shaking hand swept over his brother's body, but quickly realized that there was nothing to find. No wounds, no broken bones, and no bruises. But something was wrong. Sam felt cold, his eyes staring vacantly up at the sky.
There was no response.
Dean turned his head, and glared at the demon. "What did you do to him?"
The demon smiled. "You made the deal, Dean. His soul is mine for twenty-four hours."
Dean's eyes widened in horror. "No, No! My soul. You were supposed to take mine. Mine!"
The demon laughed. "I said a soul in your care. And that boys soul has been in your care since you carried him from the fire 23 years ago." Then the demon turned, walked away. Dean was left there standing in the middle of the desert.
Sam was screaming, flailing in Dean's Arms. "Sam. Sammy, c'mon. Wake up." Dean shook his brother gently. Sam's body was being held against Dean's. They were now lying on a motel bed, Dean having to carry and drag his brother first to the impala, and then into a motel.
Sam hadn't moved for 24 hours. He hadn't moved one inch since the demon left them. It had been twenty-four hours, and Dean had been watching and walking around his brother's body. He couldn't organize his thoughts. He couldn't even think. Every time he tried pain seemed to seize his body. He had given his little brother's soul to a demon. He hadn't meant to. It was his soul that was meant to be tortured. It was his soul that deserved to be tormented. But the demon had taken Sam's soul. And it might have been to save his life, and it might have been only for 24 hours, but thoughts of what the demon could do to Sam in 24 hours was frightening, and sickening.
He had looked at the clock, counting the hours, the minutes, and seconds. Dean didn't know the exact time the demon had taken Sam's soul, but he knew the hour. And he had waited, waited 24 hours.
Dean was just about to start shaking his brothers body out of desperation, when Sam's body jerked. Then the screaming started. Dean was sure that if they hadn't been in a cheap rent by the hour motels, the manager would have either knocked down the door or would have called the police.
Dean grabbed Sam, holding him against his body so that Sam wouldn't hurt himself. Sam was crying, and was screaming. Sam was breaking Dean.
It seemed like hours until Sam quieted. Dean stilled his rocking, and looked down. Anguished eyes gazed at him. At the moment Dean could tell that what happened was not going to blow over. It wasn't going to make itself better. There were lasting scars in the gaze his brother gave him.
"I was in Hell" Sam whispered, before slumping against Dean.
Dean shut his eyes. "So was I, Sammy, so was I."
The end…I think…