NO DEMONS ALLOWED
By: Karen B.
Author's note: Hello there. My name is Karen. I have been writing for another fandom (Starsky and Hutch). Whom, I love dearly. With the help of some great friends...I discovered the lovely World of Winchester. The guys captured me heart and soul fairly quickly. Not an easy thing to do. Below is my first attempt of dreaming of the boys. Thank you for your time and care. Sunshine always, Karen
Summary: Supernatural story. Missing Scene : Fresh Blood. Sam is scared. Gordon had said he was not human. Gordon plans on doing the right thing...Sam should too.
Walking out of the warehouse, I could smell blood, fresh cut. Gordon's blood. I was so tired, my eyelids heavy. For that matter my whole body was shaky and exhausted.
I had fought hard for possession of Gordon's head. I could still see his bulging, crimson eyes, full of hatred for me. But there was something else I saw, too. Something I wanted to dismiss all together -- but couldn't. He was afraid. But not of dying, he was ready to take his own life. Gordon wouldn't live immortal with a monster inside of him. What he was afraid of, he said not with words, but with the terror I saw in his eyes.
He looked at me like I was a butcher. A beast. A thing -- incarnate. Worse than any Hitler, Manson, or the Devil himself.
How had I torn his head clean off?
With a few feet of bailing wire and my bare hands, that's how. I had to kill him. He was no longer human. Gordon Walker, the greatest of all vampire slayers was now tainted with the very lineage he despised, and fated to live in the demonic shadow of blood lust. He couldn't escape that life anymore than I could escape mine. It was his--
"Destiny." The word accidentally slipped out, and I bit my lower lip to keep from saying it over and over again.
Dean glanced sideways at me, "What'd you say?" He winced, pressing his hand harder against the side of his neck.
"Bite?" I nodded toward his injury.
"Hickey." Dean frowned, lifting his hand slightly for proof.
I sighed, seeing the round dark purple bruise, and broken skin, but the bleeding had stopped and the wound didn't look deep. Still, seeing my brother's blood always made me woozy. I swallowed back the vomit that wanted to rush out my pretzel-twisted stomach, taking the last few steps to the Impala.
"Sam, what? You look…" Dean paused. I could sense his uncertainty about me. Of what might be going on inside my head. But he rerouted the questions I knew to be lingering on the tip of his tongue. "You're not getting in my car with vampire juice all over your jacket." Dean pasted on a smile, but couldn't hide the crack I heard in his voice. "Clean up. There's some rags and bottled water in the trunk." He nudged me toward the rear of the car.
I knew Dean wanted to say so much more. He was as confused and scared as I was. Killing Gordon that way...it wasn't just reckless. It was superhuman, and superhuman didn't just get pulled out of your pocket on a whim.
Dean staggered to the driver side door, one hand still wrapped tightly agaisnt his neck. I shook my head. My brother, always thinking he was the invulnerable one, even as a kid. No matter how many times he'd been pieced back together, nothing much seemed to slow him. Dean always did like to pretend he was the caped crusader, or masked marvel, but in reality he was lost in some terrible dream -- we both were.
Dean opened the car door and slid inside. I shrugged out of my bloodied jacket, hearing Gordon's words come rushing back to me in fragmented pieces.
'There is something evil lurking around inside of you. You are not human, Sam. Too bad you won't do the right thing. I'm going to. Two last things I'm going to do in this world. One, kill you. Two, kill myself.'
The trunk popped open and I shivered, feeling my own demon shadow of darkness, fear and doubt. I always counted on Dean, felt safe when he was around. Now he was going to hell. I couldn't save him. Couldn't hold on to his soul -- there was nothing left to hold on to. His silent bravery was all a circus act gone mad-elephant. He was ducking around how scared he really was of going to hell. If he wasn't going to be around to keep his promise and kill me should I turn into something I'm not -- who would? Everything now came down to me.
I sucked in a breath, staring at our weapon's store, frozen and unable to move.
Gordon was probably right. I wasn't human. I absently dropped my jacket inside the trunk, and with shaking fingers reached past the bottled water for my gun. A muddled mixture of confusion, fear, and knowing what I had to do made me gasp.
"Bro. Hurry up." Dean called from just inside the car, but his voice was distant. It was like I stood on one side of a rocky chasm and he was on the other. "Sam!" His voice broke through a little louder. "Hurry up!"
Wrapping my blood-stained fingers around the gun, I was surprised at how heavy the weapon felt in my hand. Everything was spinning. Turning gray, hazy, and dim. I blinked my eyes several times to clear my eyesight, slamming the trunk shut and pressing my free hand against the cool metal for support.
My vision dimmed further and the pavement seemed to vanish. I now stood on that rocky slab that seperated me from my brother, staring almost hypnotized down into a pit of darkness.
Far below, miles and miles at the very bottom of the pit whirled red-hot bubbling molt and lava. Voices, shadows, distorted, twisted faces peered up at me. Faces full of agony and pain. Spitting and screeching. Hoards of demons engaged in some sort of hell-bound bar brawl ripping the flesh off one another -- through all eternity.
Was this where Dean was going? Was this the inhuman thing Gordon had said swirled inside of me?
"Sam, get a move on it!" I heard a car door slam, my eyes snapped up. Through the haze of demonic smoke, Dean was frowning at me from across the void. "You okay?" He took a step toward the craggy rock, two feet from the edge. "Talk to me." Dean frowned.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"Sammy? You don't look so good." A few more steps and he'd fall, tumbling head first into the pit of hell.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Dean! Stop!" I held up both hands. " Stay back!" I scrambled backward away from the car, away from hell's edge, away from Dean.
"What the?" Dean froze, his questioning stare penetrating me. "What's with you?"
Hell's fire continued to spit and hiss raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Was this a vision of Dean's destiny or some concussed illusion. A rush of noise surrounded me. So loud, I held back a moan, the effort to think straight increasing.
"Stay away," I gasped for breath, shaking uncontrollably.
"Sam." Dean moved cautiously toward me. "Just calm down." His quiet voice kept me grounded, glued where I stood. "Are you hurt? Did Gordon bleed..."
"No!" I closed my eyes trying to rid myself of hell's fire and whatever else that held me rooted in horror. "Dean, he...he said something. Something that made sense."
Visions of bleached skulls, burning flesh, and ruby-red blood spurting from jagged tissue and bone of a headless body danced in my head.
"Uhhh." I tensed, clenching my finger over the gun's trigger.
"What's with the gun?" There was a hard edge to Dean's voice that I'd never heard before. "Sam?" My eyes opened, seeing the panic racing through Dean."Sam, you're wiggin' me out."
Dean glared at me. I glared back.
"Dean. I'm damaged." I swallowed the bile in my throat, feeling sick with damnation and despair. "I've been condemned since birth."
"Bullshit, Sam!" Dean's hard-edge turned angry.
The sudden change starteled me. Dean's expression of fear and terror sent me stumbling backward.
"I'm sorry," I muttered.
"Listen to me," Dean said, trying to put a little warmth back in his voice. "Put that friggin' thing down. You don't need it."
Reaching the extreme edge of the chasm, Dean seemed to float across the void toward me.
I staggered, first left, then right, nearly going down to my knees. Just being able to breathe was an effort, but I forced myself to stay upright.
Dean stopped half-way across the void. "Sam. What the hell are you doing? What are you talking about?"
Odd shaped shadows roamed the outskirts of my vision. My heart was pounding, a river of blood and adrenalin sounding off like the iron-clad gates of hell slamming in my ears.
"Gordon," I whispered.
"You had no choice. You had to..."
"No, Dean. You don't understand," I panted. "He, Gordon, said...I need to do the right thing," I muttered.
"And what is the right thing?" Dean took one tentative step my way, crossing over the crimson flames of hell.
I shook my head, my sights locked on Dean in sick fascination. I just couldn't understand how Dean could defy the law of gravity. Deny his inevitable destiny. Was I losing my sanity? If my brother could defy his fate -- why couldn't I defy mine?
I swallowed hard, feeling something evil affix itself deep inside. I felt so out of control, sweat dripping from under my armpits and down my sides.
"It's the only way. I…I can't change my destiny." I cringed feeling hell's pitchforks drilling into my skull.
"Sam," Dean gasped, his face going albino white against the darkness.
"He came to kill me, Dean. Because…" I couldn't say the words. "Just 'cause," I said instead. "Then he was going to kill himself. Maybe he's right." Hell's fire spit higher, black smoke encircling me like heavy armor.
"Sammy, you're not making any sense."
"I'm not human!" I blurted out Gordon's words.
"Grow a brain, scarecrow!" Dean shrieked with rage, eyes glaring at me.
I winced, afraid of what might be inside of me. Afraid of watching Dean's soul being dragged into hell. With every breath in me, I wished Dean never made that deal. This was all my fault. All of it. Dad's death. Moms. If I'd have died in that nursery fire…all those years ago…The air felt thick, everything wavered like I was wading through polluted water. The pit of fire I'd been staring at burst again. Flames rushing upward around Dean's feet, demon voices echoing all around. The chasm grew, threatening to swallow my brother. Take him from me. Forever damned.
"Forever, damned," I mumbled.
"Just be cool, bro. I don't want you to move." Dean used his 'don't pull that shit with me' tone. "Don't do anything stupid, I'm coming to you. You might have a concussion. I gotta check you out."
"Dean, go back!" I turned the gun on myself.
Dean stopped in his tracks.
"You didn't say Simon says," Dean huffed, a look of horror crossing his face.
"I'm so serious." I pressed the gun to my chest, every nerve and vein in me standing on end.
"Easy, okay, okay." Dean took a step back.
"Dean, if I don't do this…" I paused, raising the gun a little higher. If I was gone -- the monster inside me would be gone too. "None of us are going to survive. Dean, I have to."
"Dude!" Dean raised his voice. "You are so screwed up right now. Listen to me. What Gordon said -- it's not true." Through the smoke and fire, Dean peered at me and quietly said, "Sammy, you're my brother."
"You don't understand, Dean." I pulled the hammer back. "You saw me. Saw what I did back there." I gestured with a slight toss of my head toward the warehouse. "What human being can do that? Tear off a head like that?"
"Lou Feringno," Dean chuckled nervously.
"This isn't funny." I looked at my hands, painted red, dripping with blood.
"No. No it's not. Sam, you're just shook up. Gordon bounced your pinball head off one too many walls." Dean lowered his voice. "You're not thinking straight. Just put the gun down, and we'll talk."
"I can't!" I was overwhelmed, desperately unable to understand or gauge my physical strength, and feeling like I had no control over anyone or anything. "Talking won't fix anything. Do you know how much strength it took...you didn't see your face back there, Dean. You were shocked…nearly to death. Reckless isn't the word to describe how I killed a super, vamped out, Gordon. It wasn't me -- couldn't have been me."
"Who was it then?" Dean demanded.
"The freak lurking around inside of me," I said with a certainty I didn't really feel. I was breathing harder, ice-cold from my head to my toes, nausea and dizziness taking its toll. I had to do this. End this now. "I'm sorry, Dean…I have to. He was right. Gordon, he was right. It's the only way out. I have to…to destroy it."
"'It'... is you, Sam. I won't let you!" Dean was fuming. "You're no monster, and you know it!"
"How? How do I know, Dean? Because I have two eyes, two arms, two legs? The usual rules don't apply here." I felt my finger quiver against the trigger.
"This is not the way!" Dean was screaming at the top of his lungs now, near hysteria. You of all people know that."
"I have to, Dean. I'm sorr…"
Before I could even poise the gun under my chin, Dean was yelling and roaring toward me. Both his hands shoving against my chest full force and knocking me to my back with a heavy thud.
I lay flat, floating along with the black dots dancing before my eyes. I felt the sting of confusion, raging-hot, like the pit of hell had flash-burned me.
"Look at me!" A calloused hand roughly slapped the side of my cheek. "Damn it, Sam, you look at me."
I obeyed the voice screaming in my ear and opened my eyes, blurrily peering up. Dean was bent over me, gasping for breath.. "Don't! Don't you ever friggin' do that again!" Gripping my forearms he shook me hard, the way Dad used to shake the living daylights out of me when I'd done something wrong. "Sam!" I stared blankly at the raving lunatic that was my brother. "Do you hear me? Don't you ever do that again!"
My head was pounding, a thousand pitchforks digging in my brain. My stomach burned, yellow fire cannibalizing me from the inside out. I glanced around, sifting through a dream-like sensation and rubbing the disorientation from my eyes.
"Answer me, Sam! Do…you…understand?" Dean yelled. "You are no monster! You're a hunter. You are my brother. You save people. You are no Demon."
"Dean," I mumbled weakly, my gun still heavy and loose in my hand.
"Figgin' say it!" Dean screamed, yanking me up by my shirt collar and dragging me to him until his nose nearly touched mine. "Say it!" Swiftly reaching a hand to my chest, Dean gnarled his fingers in my shirt and tugged so hard he ripped the material revealing my tattoo. "No demons allowed, Sam!" Dean hollered, his hot breath in my face, his whole body shaking as hard as I was. "Come on." A beat. "Sam." Dean took a breath. "It's okay. Say it with me." Dean leaned forward. "Sammy," he whispered into my ear, "No demons allowed."
Deflated, I bent my head, my chin dipping to touch my chest. "No demons," I mumbled.
Rough fingers shoving up under my chin hiked my head up abruptly, but Dean's eyes didn't match the action; holding a certain sadness to them.
"Mean it, Sam." He stared intently at me.
I shuddered, but managed to straighten my shoulders, stiffen my spin and say, "No Demons... allowed." Surprised at my own confident tone.
For a few seconds Dean stared at me, stared right through me as if he could see into my soul; then seemingly satisfied with what he saw he finally said, "'Bout time you found your brain, scarecrow." Dean flung his arms around me and pulled me close for a brief hug, before shoving me back up with a slight movement of his shoulder. "Put the safety back on that thing," he ordered gruffly, gazing at the gun still clasped in my hand.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but there was nothing to say. I just nodded, clicking the safety in place.
"Holster it," Dean hissed. I did as I was told shoving the gun in my waistband. "And don't draw it out again -- unless I tell you to."
"That's bullshit, Dean. You're not Da--"
"Today, I am." Dean said flatly, dragging me to my feet. "You're lucky I don't beat you over the head with it -- figure you took enough knocks for one night."
I teeter-tottered in Dean's grasp and he held me there until I regained my balance. I wanted to push him away, to argue, but my brother impersonating my father looked flushed. Not with anger, but sick with anxiety and worry.
Dean kept his arm around me. I could feel every muscle in him, tight and rippling as we walked across the lot back to the car. He leaned me against the trunk and walked to the driver side door, never glancing back. The trust I felt emanating from him made me shiver harder. Dean opened the door andreached in across the seat. The trunk popped open.
"Put the gun away, Sam," he said, sliding behind the wheel.
I didn't hesitate, placing the weapon back where it belonged and slamming the trunk shut. I paused to think, but my pounding head contained no thoughts, standing there, drawing in a few deep breaths.
"Sam, come on, let's roll."
The passenger door swung open from the inside.
I stumbled the few paces and slid in feeling sick and dazed.
"Let me guess," I said meeting Dean's steady gaze. "Hospital."
Dean looked stiff, his hands gripped tight to the steering wheel, his face still albino white.
"No." He nervously licked his lips, turning to stare out the front windshield. "We're blowing this town." He started the engine.
With a screech, the Impala peeled out of the parking lot leaving behind Gordon's destiny and the smell of burning rubber.
"Get the map out, Sam," Dean said gently.
"You didn't say 'Simon says'."
"Simon says, get the map out." Dean gave a faint smile, relaxing his grip on the steering wheel and reaching a hand to turn on the radio.
We sped off into the night, 'Highway to Hell' near shattering the speakers.