Resurrection – spn season 4 speculation fic

Resurrection – spn season 4 speculation fic. chpt 4.

by: sifi.


"Whaddya mean?" Dean asked. It's okay, it's Sammy. It's okay. He assured himself and had to step quickly as Sam drew him away from the body on the floor or else he would've wound up on his face. "Hey Bobby," he raised his hand in a partial wave even though the older mans' shaky smile and hesitant nod did not go unnoticed. He doesn't think I'm quite right… he looked at his brother, neither does he.

"Dean, he's dead," Sam motioned to the floor, Oh my God please no, please no… something went wrong, what the hell could've gone wrong? I did EVERYTHING RIGHT! Please… oh God…

John's eldest boy smiled nodding, "Uh huh… but don't let him fool y'though…" he looked around his brother's shoulder at Bobby, "How is she?"

The girl nodded, "I'm okay…" and started to get up with the older hunter's help.

"WAIT!" Dean ordered striding around Sam to stand before her.

She stood shaking as he gently grasped her chin and tilted her head first this way, then that. His mouth turned down while her eyes darted between the body on the floor and the man who'd rescued her.

"Listen, whatever you tell them happened when you wake up… just keep it believable and keep us out of it okay?" he shot his most disarming smile at her, "I just got out of hell… I don't need to go to jail."

She nodded, almost visibly melting with his inherent charm. "I know how to… keep a secret," She nodded then frowned, "When I wake up?"

"Sorry," he muttered with a trace of sadness before his fist connected solidly, leaving the woman slumped in Bobby's arms, "Yeah, I bet you do," just as a series of 'pop's' and a scraping came from the floor behind them.

"Start chanting Sammy," Dean turned back and wrapped his arm, one around the brute's neck, the other up under his arm in a standard half nelson.

Instinctively Sam followed his brothers' instructions and began reciting their most commonly used exorcism while Bobby set the unconscious girl down and raced to the door with a canister of salt to make sure the thing couldn't get out into the night.

With the demon's final throes before it's relegation to hell, it jerked backwards driving Dean into the wall then crumpled under his weight as the demon itself was finally expelled.

Dean rose to his feet, a surprised and somehow pleased expression on his face, "Huh."

"He was possessed…" Sam sighed relieved that his brother hadn't killed an… well almost innocent man.

Guess I really must not belong there…wonder if that means I'm NOT a demon… would that be 'at all' or 'yet'? the eldest Winchester wondered but smiled then clapped a hand onto each of the other mans' shoulders, "Good job guys," he stepped over the salt line at the door and back out into the night.

In the middle of the driveway he stopped, his head cocked to the side, his eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips. He stood still with his face upturned and simply breathing, until the other two joined him, he could feel their uncertainty, their curiosity, they're scared… well not really SCARED…but they're definitely unnerved. Huh. Wonder what they'd think if I told 'em…

One man came to a halt on either side of him interrupting his train of thought. He looked left and saw so much more than just his little brother, then right and saw a man he loved like a father. Thank you Bobby. He could feel the weight of their trepidations laying over them like a soaked heavy blanket and he balked stepping forward and turning to face them. They won't understand… is this how you… his eyes flicked to Sam, Doc Benson! That's… freakin' urban legend organ thief… Aww Sammy what did you do? What did you make me? Growing up as John's 'troops', keeping his expression unreadable was something he'd learned to do as a child. It's okay I'll fix it.

Shooting for a semblance of normalcy he smiled, "I'm hungry. What's say after we put Doc Benson back where he belongs we get something to eat…" he turned and looked at Sam, finally seeing the exterior of the young man. He looked like he'd been rolled in mud and most of it had flaked off except for what had his hair plastered down, but with a lifetime of hunting under his belt Dean knew the boy was coated in dried blood, SamMY! What did you do!

"Where'd all the blood come from? Are you hurt?" he asked clasping the boy's head and looking into his eyes for a moment before starting to pat him down.

Sam shook his head pushing his brother's hands off him, "I'm fine… Dean… how are you? What… how did you get here?" He motioned to the house.

OOoh he's right on the edge of the 'sharing and caring' voice'… relax Sam, I'm not gonna break. "Uhhh… walked," he motioned to the tree lined far side of the street, "Same as you since I don't see either car…" he glanced at Bobby, easily reading the uncertainty on the old hunters' face, "So this…" he tugged on Sam's blood-stiff shirt, "part of whatever brought me back?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "what do you remember Dean?" his voice still soft, and his expression teetering between condescending and pitying.

"Sam," his hand came up to his little brother's neck.

"Yeah Dean?"

Dean looked back over his shoulder, "The guy was possessed, and even when he wasn't he was an abusive bastard, not that THAT actually justifies anything… but he was possessed. I'm not gonna go 'pop' and start shooting up the nearest shopping mall any time soon so just relax okay?"

Sam seemed to sigh and his smile loosened a bit, "Sorry Dean… y'just scared the hell outta me disappearing like that… then…" he motioned to the house again.

Dean nodded after a quick ponder of the young mans' point just don't look deep, he told himself, don't look deep it's still Sammy, "Yeah sorry about that…"

"So do you… I mean, what do you remember?"

Everything, "Not much," it's just like scattered leaves man, "I remember Lilith in Ruby…" and the claws and fangs… the tearing, burning, the heat of my own blood flowing over my skin, weighing down my clothes, he shook his head, "… it's a prison of flesh, and blood, and bone… and fear!" that's what meg said… she was right. "Not much else just yet… it'll probably come later…"

Sam could almost feel the layers moving through his brother, he knew Dean was lying but he didn't know why, and THAT was what left him most unnerved.

Dean seemed to come back up from that extra inner dimension and looked between Sam and Bobby, "How long was I there?"

"Too long," Sam said tersely.

I already know about Doc Benson Sammy… I can see the part of you, you never wanted to let out, I know everything you don't want me to, what else can you be hiding?

"C'mon, let's get gone before she wakes up."

He turned toward the woods and started back toward the cabin knowing full well both men would follow him, if for no other reason than their own uncertainty of his mental state.

It's not me you have to worry about. I think.


Oooh my baby! he grinned, now THIS feels right! "Got my keys?" Dean asked stopping at the rear of the Impala, "Hello baby d'ja miss me?" he stroked her smooth black rear with one hand and caught the keys with the other.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked as Bobby watched silently.

"Gonna finish up with Doc Benson Sam… digging him up on your own was reckless, coulda got yourself killed especially since he needs a new heart after I shanked his last one," he turned to Bobby, "You didn't help him with this craziness did you?"

"No he didn't," Sam answered, "I was careful… and we needed to resuscitate your body," he explained.

Dean paused but didn't look up from the bag he was loading, "Just don't say mouth to mouth…"

Finished with the bag he turned from the trunk and looked between the two men. He smirked, shook his head, and slung the bag over his shoulder then met eyes with Sam, "You stay out here with Bobby. I'll be back in a couple minutes."

Sam shook his head, "Like hell I'm staying out here!"

"Yes. You are." He glanced at the older hunter, "Whatever deal you made, I'm unmaking… so stay out of my way. You know how cranky I get when I'm hungry." He turned toward the cabin with one last glance at Sam as the younger man lurched toward him but was held back with a gentle hand from Bobby.

"Sam, stay." He pointed striding into the structure.

Sam and Bobby ran side by side to the basement window and peered into the yellow of the oil-lamp light.


Finally alone and without the scrutiny of his little brother and their best friend Dean found he could breathe. He felt the tension leech out of his shoulders as he stopped at the table and got himself quickly organized.

Thank you for getting me out of there Sam… I just wish I knew if you did the right thing or not.

With his tools comfortably situated in their accustomed places he descended the stairs, returning to the doctor's workshop.

From the corner of his eye he saw Sammy strapped down with what looked like a filthy melon baller sliding between his eye and the orbit of his skull, three more seconds and I woulda been too late… my boy'd be missing an eye… son of a bitch!

Then with a blink it wasn't Sam anymore, it was the doc himself, strapped down with a chloroform edged hole in his unnaturally beating heart. Just cause it's still beating doesn't mean it's doing the job right, he knew.

A heart beat later it was him.

It was that moment of looking up and of somehow looking out and seeing his own body with his back bowed upward as he seemed to be shot into it, very much like a bullet about to hit a clay pot, only this time it didn't shatter. This particular clay pot simply caught the bullet that was his soul and now he was rattling around inside wondering if he still fit the right way. Same thing Sam and Bobby's wondering… no sense in hiding it… but talking it out would make too much sense, and the Winchester Troops don't talk, don't discuss anything but the hunt… I gotta keep it together… for Sam… his eyes flicked toward the window where he could feel them watching. What are you now? What am I?

The bottle of chloroform was exactly where he'd left it a full-on lifetime ago, and beside it sat the doc's journal, and one of Bobby's books. He stuffed the book into the bag and moved on. Dean's own jacket lay draped over the back of a chair. Dad's jacket… he corrected himself.

"Your favorite leather jacket?... Dad's."

"Your music?... Dad's."

"Your car?... Dad's. Do you even have an original thought of your own?"

He could feel doc Benson's eyes on him as he moved through the room toward the jacket and emptied the contents of its pockets, taking back what was his before laying it over the back of the chair again.

"Your brother and I had a deal son… you don't wanna go and bust up a good working arrangement now do you?" he pointed to a cooler across the basement, "I gave my word…" he started as Dean poured the liquid anesthetic into a handkerchief.

"You lied and you know it."

He watched the hunter then pull a machete from his belt and splash its blade with the stuff, "I can… my work can revolutionize health care… can you imagine the benefit of keeping a body alive while waiting for an organ without really having to worry about…" he motioned to the hole in his own chest.

"An actual expiration date?" Dean smirked turning and opening the cage, "You're not exactly a convincing poster child for immortality… the whole… Ed Gein, patchwork quilt made of skin… just kinda..." he paused, "more of an argument AGAINST the cause than for it."

Slowly the doc crawled out of the cage as Dean backed across the basement, "Flinch in the wrong direction and off comes your head."

The doc nodded, "I cotton."

"Good… now…"

The eldest Winchester moved faster than anyone could have expected, his hand holding the machete turned in, swung up, and then around as he closed the six feet between himself and the doctor with two steps sending the doc's head rolling on the floor back toward the cage it'd just vacated.

To his surprise the body actually continued to walk a couple steps toward the stairs. He glanced back at the head, the eyes met his and the mouth continued to move, trying to speak though there was no air, and no vocal cords against which to make sound.

The body fell.

Dean grasped it by the arm, dragged it back to the table and hefted it up onto the wood plank that would become its pyre.

He moved quickly, pulling down every flammable thing he could find and piling it around the body while the head stared at him, the eyes following his every move, the mouth silently pleading for him to stop.

"Y'know… that's very unsettling." He grumbled moving to the head and pressing the soaked handkerchief against the face knowing the fumes would do the job even without being breathed in. "Creepy ass thing…" then emptied the last of the bottle over the body, layered it over with some lamp oil and lit it up.

Once the flames had a proper hold of the body he tossed the doc's journal into the conflagration, grabbed the head and carried it up the stairs as blue flame licked its way up the wood.

His little brother's strong hand grasped him by the back of the shirt as he reached the ground floor of the cabin, and dragged him outside just as the rest of the walls caught fire.

"Bobby's got a fire going in the hole," Sam motioned toward the refrigerator they'd buried the doc in.

"So he does," Dean smiled noting the familiar glow of a fire from within the ground, and headed for the hole where Bobby stood ready.

As the trio of men stood watching the fire consume doc Benson's head Bobby glanced at John's eldest, "What if there was something in that book? What if you need more of that potion… what if he was lying?" he stumbled over all his uncertainties.

"Life is an anticipation of tomorrow… nobody knows how much time they have."

"At least if you die tomorrow the odds are you won't go to back to hell," Sam muttered fighting the tears that wanted to cover his eyes. He draped an arm around Dean's shoulders but as much as he wanted to hug him, didn't. CAN we be back to rights now? Can we call this OUR do-over?... "You're Travis Bickel in a skirt pal…" "He's your weakness… and the bad guys know it." "I'm your weak spot Sam… and you're mine." "The things that I'm willing to do for this family… scares me…"

"I can live with that," Dean nodded, I wonder how long I can live like THIS… seeing what I see… hearing a world screaming in agony… can't do the job myself… that'll just land me back in hell again… As the voices, screams and songs of came together in a deafening cacophony inside his head he wondered, compared to this… maybe hell wasn't so bad after all.

"So you still hungry?" Bobby asked glancing to the east as the horizon turned a lighter shade of black.

Dean nodded, trying to close those doors inside his head, trying to close out the screaming of the world around him like they'd closed the gates to hell in Wyoming.

"Got a taste for anything in particular?" the older hunter asked.

Dean shrugged as they turned away from the fire and toward their cars.

"There's a diner just up the road."

"We'll follow you Bobby," Dean nodded tossing the bag full of tools into the impala's trunk.

Inside he turned the engine over and closed his eyes smiling with his baby's good vibrations and soothing purr.

"Where's your jacket?" Sam asked as Bobby pulled out onto the road and Dean put the car into gear sliding with buttery ease onto the road behind their old friend.

Dean shook his head, "It wasn't mine."



A/N – I know this is a kind of a strange place to end this little fic here. Please do remember though that it is really just my own ego here… as in – if I was writing the first ep of season four… this might be how I would have done it.

Thank you to each and every one of you who has bothered to read this little bit of speculation, and have been so wonderfully supportive of not just this little fic but of everything… Thank you so much! (a Million thanks are not enough).

I would really LOVE to hear what you have to say about this fic…if you have the time or inclination to share your opinions. (I'm not used to working IN canon.) And if you choose not to… I thank you for taking the time to read it. and I do hope you enjoyed it.

Thank you again,