A/N: I was moving house when Appointment in Samarra first aired, and I just now got to catch up this past Friday because I couldn't get a download to work. But I'm glad I did, now I just need to see that brotherly, awesome hug that a lot of us are feelin' the need to see. Anyway, I started writing this before I watched the ep and finished it anyway. At the urging of a dear friend I'm posting. And I'm going with the fact that while Sam was out of hell the night Dean went to Lisa's, Sam's soul was not.
Usual disclaimer: Don't own. I'm too darn broke to have made any money from this. Yadda yadda yadda blah blah.
Warning: Just a little language. Dean's fed up with people yanking his chain concerning his brother. And I'm hoping that you can figure out what Sam does with his hand.
He Came Back Wrong
Sam sat on the bed, motionless except for the fingers of his left hand, which were toying with a frayed string on the button hole of the right cuff of his flannel shirt. He didn't notice the brush of denim past him and only looked up when the smell of burned chicory invaded his nostrils.
Dean tipped the white porcelain mug to his lips and grimaced. "Motel coffee. Ugh, there's just nothing quite like it." Dean turned to the sink he leaned against and tossed the liquid down the drain. "Sludge." He muttered under his breath, parking the cup beside the sink. He turned back to his brother. "You sleep okay?"
"Yeah. I guess. Considering I forgot what it felt like to sleep? Sure."
"What's up with you?" Dean asked.
Sam stilled his fingers and looked up at Dean. "You mean besides everything that happened in the last two years?"
"Yeah, okay." Dean said, sitting down on the bed opposite Sam, their knees nearly touching. "You sure you're feeling like yourself?"
"What's with the questions Dean?" Sam asked, his voice tired.
"I'm worried about you!"
"I just got my soul back. Death practically flayed me to do it. Don't you think I need some time to adjust?" Sam hissed, standing from the bed and stalking across the small motel room. He kept his back to his brother, shoulders sagging on a sigh. His voice came back to Dean's ears so low that Dean had to strain to hear it.
"Of course, it would help if I came back right." The soft words sank in and Dean stood from the bed, taking an involuntary step back, the backs of his knees bouncing off the other low bed.
"Wh-what?" Sam spun to face Dean, his features twisted with hate, eyes bright with malice. Sam lunged at Dean, large hands hooked into claws. A breeze shot through the room and the rustle of canvas could be heard.
"Dean, GO!" Castiel cried, locking his arms around Sam's elbows and struggling to keep him restrained. Dean jumped over the bed and raced for the door of the room. Bright light exploded in the room and Sam screamed. The force of a shockwave propelled Dean into the still closed door. He slid to the floor, shielding his eyes. The light gradually faded and he lowered his arms to see Castiel lower Sam none to gently to the floor, the angel staggering wearily under the hunter's weight.
He sighed and forced himself to stand upright again, straightening his disheveled trench coat.
Dean stood, rolling an aching shoulder. "Cass, what the hell?"
"Hell is right. Dean, your brother is infected."
"Infected? With what? What are you talkin' about?"
"He will not be unconscious for long. We must restrain him. You will see for yourself when he wakes up."
The angel picked Sam up as if he weight little more than a baby and laid him on the bed. A rustle had Dean looking up to see the angel gone. A second later Castiel walked by him with a coil of rope over his arm.
"Whoa, whoa. What are you doin?" Dean skirted the angel, putting a hand to his chest. "You're not gonna tie him up!"
"Dean, Sam is…damaged. I warned you this would happen. The walls would not hold and a broken soul would be locked inside your brother. Think about it. Your four months-forty years…think! Sam's soul was in the pit…in Lucifer's cage with him for a year of your time with Lisa. In the deepest hell experiencing terrors that even you can't imagine! You know how wrong you felt, how you felt touched to the deepest level of your being by hell's flames. You know…deep inside yourself…that this is NOT your brother!"
Dean stared past Castiel, seeing his brother's limp form. He blinked as he felt his eyes sting. Snatching the rope from the angel's fingers, he glared into icy blue eyes. "Fuck you." Dean seethed. He pushed by the man and disappeared into the bathroom, quickly returning with a towel. He pulled his knife, flicking the blade open with his thumb, he made quick work of cutting the towel into strips which he wrapped around Sam's wrists and ankles. He looped the rope around the towels and tied it securely to the bed frame, in the process hauling Sam into a spread eagle position. "Are you freakin' happy now?" He asked Castiel, not bothering to look at him.
"Shut up and help him. Fix him."
"You mean you won't." Dean stated, jade eyes boring into the angel like bullets.
Castiel began to speak and Dean lost it. "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Cass fell silent, for the tense stillness to be broken by a rumbling laugh from the bed. It grew in intensity until it was a maniacal cackle.
"'S so much fun watching you spank your angel, Dean." Sam said as he fought to bring his laughter under control.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm not possessed or anything so…trivial. Y'see, Castiel was right." Sam said, his tied hand gesturing to the angel. When Castiel looked down at Sam the hunter smirked, rotating his pointing hand so that his fingertips were up, where he lowered his index finger and lifted another one towards the ceiling.
"There's only so much a soul can take before it becomes seriously bent. I spent a hundred and twenty years being Lucifer's plaything. A. Hundred. And. Twenty. Years. You think your forty fucked you up? You have no idea."
"We can help you." Dean said. "Cass can. I know it." Dean said, looking from the angel to his brother.
Sam began to laugh again, a deep, rumbling laugh that left chills crawling across Dean's flesh.
"Haahahahhahaa….you? You can't help me! There's no help for me! You brought me back. Not good enough to have Sam at your side. Ya just had to have your poor, pathetic, little Sammy back. Now you've got what you wanted. A broken, twisted soul locked inside a body. Like putting fire in a cardboard box and telling it to stay put. You have no idea what you brought back!"
"Then tell me!" Dean cried.
"I'M NOT HUMAN ANYMORE!" Sam cried, neck muscles straining as he lifted his head and screamed at Dean. "I'm what dad warned you about…what you would have to put down like a dog. Y'see, all the crap I went through, it turned me to dust. Lucifer had a kink. Did you know that? He had me strapped to the rack and he'd pop my eyeballs out with his thumbs!" Sam grinned, arms cording as he strained against the ropes to give Dean a double thumbs-up. Castiel looked on between Sam and Dean, sympathy crossing his features.
"He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum…" Sam sang part of the old nursery rhyme. "And he'd lick 'em like a freakin' lollipop! Guess he liked the taste of brain matter."
"You know what else? He ripped the skin from my bones. Almost every damn day. He'd rip out my tongue first, so I couldn't beg. All I could do was scream…and choke on my own blood, that is. Then he'd use his claws to cut strips out of my skin. He'd throw it on the fire. And you know in two years I still get sick when I smell bacon cooking?" Sam grinned. "And you wonder why the walls didn't hold. They were a fuckin' house of cards!"
"I finally got off that rack though. And when I did, when Lucifer let the screws slip, I made him pay. I put him on that rack and I made him squeal like a pig. Took a page outta your book Dean, I ripped him to pieces. Michael tried to stop me. You know that. After he vowed to destroy his brother, he tried to stop me from getting revenge. He tried to protect his little brother."
Sam laughed again. "The firelight glinted off those toe-headed curls. So beautiful. I just had to run my fingers through them. It was too bad that bits of scalp came off with them. Kinda ruined the moment."
"I do gotta thank you for somethin'. I gotta say that the year it took to get me out, it gave me the home court advantage. I mean, a year of RoboSam…a thousand sit-ups a night…man was a machine!" Sam yanked hard on the ropes and they gave. He was off the bed, eyes glinting in the dull light. Castiel stepped forward and tried to restrain Sam again. He shoved the angel hard, the man breaking through the bathroom wall as he collapsed in a heap of rubble. Dean dodged Sam's reach, but Sam clotheslined him, knocking him to the floor. Sam bent and picked Dean up by the throat, lifting him so that his boots barely dragged the carpet. Dean's hands clasped tight around Sam's wrists to try and break the hold.
Dean's face began to change colors, going from pale to a mottled reddish purple. His eyes rolled as he tried to pull in air past Sam's tight grip. Dean's grip began to falter slightly when Sam cried out. The older Winchester was released and slumped to the carpet at Sam's feet, choking as he finally got air into his starved lungs. He looked up through bleary eyes and saw Castiel standing behind Sam. Light was building at Sam's back, becoming too bright to look at. Dean threw his arm up over his face as a blast of energy tore through the room.
The walls finished rattling around Dean and darkness took over, neon lights from outside casting everything in a cold blue glow. He lowered his arm from his eyes and blinked to force them to adjust. Shadowed heaps lay in the center of the room, one draped over the other's legs. "Sam!" Dean cried, voice coarse from the abuse to his throat. He heard a moan as he slid to his knees beside his brother and the angel who opened electric blue eyes and sat up, Sam's torso still pinning him to the floor. Dean reached for Sam and hefted him off of Castiel. Sam's head lolled against Dean's chest. "What did you do? Is he gonna be okay?"
"If what remains of your brother's soul is strong enough to survive in his body, he will be himself again."
"The hell?" Dean's voice cracked. "You sonuva…"
"Do not…Dean. I have made it so you have your brother back, without the walls. As he would be after a traumatic experience. You wanted this. Deal with the fallout." The angel disappeared with a rustle and breeze. Dean stared at where the angel had been, as if trying to bring him back. Shaking himself free of Castiel's words, Dean shifted his brother garnering a sigh from the younger man.
"C'mon Gigantor, gonna get ya off the floor." He hefted them both and lowered Sam's dead weight as gently as possible to the bed. He removed the remaining scraps of towel and rope from Sam's wrists and ankles and tossed a blanket from the second bed over him. Dean brushed Sam's wayward hair back from his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. He turned his aching body so that his back rested against the headboard, one booted foot up on the edge, the other on the floor. Soon his tired eyes fought to close.
A whispered sound jarred him from his slumber. Alert, Dean glanced around the room before the same sound repeated and drew his attention down onto the bed. Sam sighed in his sleep, face smooth, breathing deep and even. Dean watched his brother for a minute, remembering the little boy with the too long hair cascading over the pillow, sleeping with his tiny fists curled tight in the blanket.
Sam's eyelids fluttered and opened, eyes foggy at first but finally focusing on his brother. "Dean?"
"Hey. How ya feelin?"
"Okay, I guess. What happened?"
"Well, what's the last thing you remember?"
"Death, cramming my soul back into me. It hurt like a bitch. So, what happened?"
"Nothin'. You been asleep for a couple days. Guess it finally caught up with ya."
"Feel like I could use another week."
"Got all the time in the world, bro."
A/N: Okay, so no hug. The way they gloss over what Sam's gone through on the show I think this is something they would do.
I'm still plunking away at the other stories on my laptop so bear with me. I'll be back...eventually.