Welcome back gang ! Hope everyone is enjoying summer and looking forward to S3 in October. Firstly, thank you all to those who read 'Lying in Wait', thank you for all your wonderful reviews; they simply blew me away and helped encourage me to keep ploughing on with this one I'm still writing.
So where are we..? Well, we've now entered into the final instalment of the trilogy. Hope you all will enjoy it. If you've missed the previous two don't worry, there is enough of a 'flashback' in this chapter to bring you up to speed and if you're ever bored, you can go back and take a peek !:o)
As for little old me, I'm knee deep in writing my thesis, so I'll admit that for the next few weeks, updates won't be that often, but I'll try for at least once a week.
Thanks again for all your support, I always love hearing from you. So feel free to PM or leave a review. Now on with the first chapter….Mind Games…..
Chapter One- Mind Games
Sam Winchester silently sunk onto the living room sofa.
It was almost 2am and he sat staring at the TV screen, in the darkness, the only light radiating around was from the working set.
His face glowing from the pictures on screen, he tucked his long legs at his side, pulled the blanket around him, picked up the remote, and turned the volume up a nudge.
Sam's brown hair fell off his face as he allowed his head to tilt back against the three seater sofa he sat on, and finally begun to feel his highly strung body relax.
To say he was stressed out would only scratch the surface.
The sleepless nights, the blocking out everything that had happened in the last few weeks, the whole trying to put it behind you and pretending that everything was ok; it was really beginning to get to him.
But the youngest Winchester didn't have a choice in the matter. He had to pretend that everything was ok, for Dean's sake.
Dean had been through hell.
And Sam knew that Dean had to get better.
Not that there was anything physically wrong with Dean, but mentally, that was a whole other mine field.
Dean was dealing with way too much, guilt being the major part of it. After all, being under some psycho demonic spirit's power, having it manipulate your thoughts and everything you did would send most people tittering near that dangerous edge.
Sam sighed at the memories that were instantly plunged into his mind.
Dean had tried to kill him.
Dean had held him down, having poisoned him and had then set about bleeding him out in some sick, satanic ritual.
Sam still had no idea what the spirit was after, or why it had chosen to use Dean as the go between. And if Sam was honest, he still wasn't even sure how he'd managed to kill the thing.
Well, maybe he hadn't been the one who'd actually pulled the trigger, but he as good as killed the bastard. Sam's own version of a bullet had done the trick.
But its warning right before it had been blown away by Dean.
The warning that it hissed at Sam.
...Killing me will be the biggest mistake of your life...
Sam had no idea what it had meant, but Dean had grabbed the gun and fired.
Since that night, that god damn awful night that would be etched on both boys memories for the rest of their lives, both Sam and his brother were trying to move on.
And if Sam was honest, it wasn't easy.
Gone was Sam's cocky, confident, get-up-and-go older brother.
Whatever the spirit had done to Dean, it had screwed him up big time.
Not that Dean would ever admit to it, oh heck no.
Things were peachy fine in Dean's world.
But Sam noticed the changes, and for Sam they were huge.
The fact that Dean just couldn't seem to shake the guilt regarding what he'd done to Sam. It didn't seem to matter how many times Sam sat him down and told him that he knew it was nothing to do with Dean. That his elder brother had been under the influence of evil. Dean just wouldn't buy it; he would sit there and simply tell Sam to shut up, that there was nothing wrong with him.
But there was.
Sam pulled the blanket around him a little more, using his legs to kick it out at the sides.
He was such a hypocrite.
Here he'd been for almost a week telling Dean that he still cared about him, that nothing between them had changed, that Dean was still his annoying older brother that he loved unconditionally. That things between them were ok.
And yet every single day, all Sam did was reassure Dean's fears that the one thing he couldn't get back from Sam was his trust.
Sam closed his eyes at that thought.
He did trust Dean, he trusted Dean with his life, his soul, with everything.
And yet this morning Dean had spent most of it on the deck staring at the breakfast the elder brother had made for them both, and had watched as Sam made up a lame excuse not to eat it.
Dean had tried to get him to at least drink some coffee, or juice, anything. Anything to put Dean's fading hopes back on track.
But Sam hadn't.
He just couldn't.
Sam had made an awkward excuse that he was feeling a little off colour and had gone back to his room. He'd then spent the rest of the morning standing by his window, watching Dean sitting on the deck, staring at the breakfast. Not once did Dean eat or drink any of it himself.
Sam finally allowed the remote to sit on the arm of the sofa, his tired body ultimately deciding on one of his all time favourite movies. He needed something to get his mind off the way things were.
It was all just too fake.
Everything between him and his brother at the moment was fake. Dean couldn't and wouldn't talk about what happened that night at the cliffs; he wouldn't even acknowledge the letter Sam had left for him even existed.
Yet the only thing that wasn't fake between them was the awkwardness.
The guilt that radiated off Dean was almost drowning Sam.
And Sam was beginning to disappear into his own guilt for adding to Dean's problems. If he would just freaking eat or drink something Dean gave him, then that would help, that would go such a friggin long way to stop some of Dean's guilt.
But no matter how much Sam pushed himself, willed himself, he just couldn't.
Dean had been drugging him for almost two weeks, slipping pills into his food and drink, rendering him useless and in a serious amount of pain.
Every single time Sam pushed himself to take a sip of even a glass of soda, warning sounds would go off in his head. Was this Dean, really his Dean..? Or was this just Dean being used as a puppet by someone else again.
Sam closed his eyes.
Dean never questioned why Sam no longer ate or drank with him anymore. In fact, in over a week, they hadn't even had a meal together.
Sam was secretly hoping that Dean wasn't noticing, that his excuses were good and that Dean was simply buying them.
Sam sighed.
Who the hell was he kidding...?
Then there was the issue of sleep. Or lack of it. Sam wasn't even sure anymore. He just couldn't sleep anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, he was taken back to one of too many scenarios the younger brother would pay to forget.
Like the night at the cabin where he'd failed his father and not killed the demon. Ok, it was a given that killing the demon would have also murdered his father in the process, but Sam was pretty sure, no make that one hundred percent sure, John Winchester had left because once again, Sammy just couldn't follow one friggin order without having to retaliate.
Then there was the whole crash itself.
At first it hadn't bothered Sam at all, mainly as he hadn't remembered much of it, but as expected, bits were beginning to form in his memory. The younger boy couldn't understand why this was bothering him so much. He'd been in worse situations in his life, seen worse things, had worse things happen than a freaking car crash; but yet it plagued him. When he closed his eyes, he could see his father lying beside him, blood everywhere, drowning in his own blood. Crawling into the back seat and realising that Dean was dying, his elder brother was clinging on for dear life. He could smell the horrid smell of metal, and taste the blood that had lined the inside of his mouth; he could still hear the hick song on the radio of the truck drivers cab, hear the sound of Impala crunching around them.
Then there was Dean.
That night on the cliff, that beautiful picturesque view of the beach, that had been marred by a man temporarily insane.
Sam cringed at the memory, remembering how Dean and stared at him through stony eyes which he'd never seen before. He'd seen the hatred in Dean's eyes and it had frightened him more than the spirit had. He'd talked, screamed, begged, fought, cried, anything to try and break the connection between Dean and the evil spirit.
Sam swallowed as he stared at his still bandaged wrist, knowing what lay hidden beneath. In fact he had slashes across both wrists, but the one on his right wrist was the worse. It wasn't healing very well, and it wasn't being taken care of that great either. It needed to be cleaned properly and bandaged much better, but he'd be damned if he would let Dean anywhere near him.
The little brother wasn't going to put Dean through the physical torture of having to clean and bandage the wounds that Dean had inflicted. The wounds that Dean had made ten times worse by using a knife dipped in poison.
Sam sighed as he wriggled down on the sofa and let his head lie on the arm. He didn't blame Dean at all. He'd made a conscious decision before hand that he would see this out. He knew that Dean had planned to sacrifice him out there; he knew what the poison would be used for, and knew that the chances were, he'd be killed.
But there was always hope and Sam had placed his life, and his brother's in faith and hope; and thankfully it had paid off.
It hadn't been the Winchesters destiny to die that night.
But while they still had their lives, the fallout was unimaginable for both of them.
" Hey..." Came a sleepy voice in the dark, " What are you doing up..?"
Sam jumped, his hand lightly touching his chest as his heart raced frantically in his body. He'd been so engrossed in his thinking he hadn't even heard anyone approaching.
Great hunter he was.
Sam's eyes refocused in the dark room, and he could see Dean standing in the dark. He then heard his brother shuffle over and came and stood at the foot on the sofa, his face turned to the movie on the television.
" Didn't mean to wake you.." Sam admitted managing a weak smile to Dean, as he glanced up at his elder brother of four years, " I'll keep the noise down, you go back and get some sleep..."
" I'm already up..." Dean said in an uneasy tone, as he stood awkwardly at the foot of the sofa, " What you watching...?" Dean asked, as he pointed to the movie.
" Rush Hour..." Sam said with a smile, " Dean, seriously, you're tired and you need sleep..."
" Something about a pot, a kettle and black..." Dean said with a grin as he folded his arms across his chest, " You string the sentence together..."
" Dude..." Sam said in a tried tone, " I'm not in the mood for a fight..."
" No, god, no.." Dean said as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, " I don't want to fight either..."
" Then go back to your room..." Sam said now refocusing on the movie, " You're disturbing me from my favourite film..."
" I didn't know you liked this movie..." Dean asked his interest heightened, " What's it about..?"
" Nothing you'll be interested in ok..?" Sam mumbled, " Nobody gets laid and there aren't any naked girls in it.."
" I'm always up for new things..." Dean said as he cautiously picked up the end of the blanket, " Mind if I stay and watch...?"
Sam looked up at Dean; he was uneasy already.
But he had to make the effort, he just had to. He hated the way things were between Dean and himself; he missed their old relationship like crazy. Sam had to do what he could to make Dean believe that things were ok between them, that Dean was still wanted and loved and that things were alright; even when Sam wasn't sure he believed they ever could be.
But Sam was sure on one thing.
They were brothers. Only brothers. They only had each other and Sam was determined that no friggin evil bastard like spirit was gonna destroy them. He'd fight for Dean until his dying breath left his body in every single battle. Now while this was not maybe a normal hunt, the situation was still exactly the same.
Sam had to fight for Dean.
" Only if you keep quiet..." Sam said with a tired smile " And you promise to look at the air conditioning tomorrow, it's friggin freezing in here !"
" Deal..." Dean said as he lifted the end of the blanket and then paused, " We need us some movie food, I think I spotted a bag of micro popcorn in the cupboard, hang tight while I go nuke it.."
Sam watched as Dean disappeared into the kitchen in the darkness exhaustion creeping into his body again.
He had to keep fighting.
For Dean's sake...
...Popcorn, he'll eat popcorn, everyone eats popcorn, find someone who doesn't eat popcorn...
Dean thought as he trotted into the kitchen and snapped on the light. Momentarily blinded he wondered over to the nearest cupboard and begun to hunt around for the yellow packet he'd spotted in there yesterday.
His hazel green eyes finally stopped squinting and he wondered over to the microwave, shoved the packet in and put the machine to three minutes. The elder brother lent against the work surface, his face set in a thoughtful expression as he stared numbly at the microwave.
Sam hated him.
Ok, no, that wasn't exactly true.
Sam should hate him.
Dean sighed at that notion. His little brother had every right in the world to hate him. Heck, at this point in Dean's life, he wasn't even sure if he liked himself. After all, he'd been so consumed with his own stupidity that he'd almost murdered his own brother.
Now, guilt, grief, pain and possibly even anger often made ordinary people do stupid things, but Dean rarely did stupid things without good reason, and Dean was anything but ordinary. Yet somehow he'd fallen foul to whatever the hell it was that he'd fallen foul too.
That bothered Dean more than Sam could ever understand. It had been five whole days since that night on the cliffs, and Dean had searched every single book they had in the trunk, every internet site he could search, hell, he'd even gone to the library to do research himself.
Each and every time Dean had returned with the same result as Sam.
Nothing.
Dean still had no idea what or who is was that had possessed him.
Dean sighed as that uncomfortable thought plundered through his mind, as the bell on the microwave gave off its cheesy alarm.
Possessed.
Frankly, Dean actually wished he had been possessed, at least then he could have said out loud to Sam that he had been possessed, and that technically, he was only a puppet in the game; but that wasn't true.
He hadn't been possessed; no matter how many times Sam said he had been, Dean knew he hadn't.
He had not been possessed.
Dean took a bowl from the cupboard and tipped the sweet bag of popcorn into the bowl and poked his head around the kitchen to see what Sam was doing.
" Dude, you want a soda..?" Dean called out. The elder brother already knew the answer, but each time he asked he secretly hoped that the answer would be different. He was still waiting.
" No, I'm good..."
Dean sighed as he looked around the fridge and found a bottle of beer. Looks like he'd be waiting for that answer for yet another day.
Dean trotted back towards the glow of the TV and handed Sam the bowl as he lifted the end of blanket and sat down on the sofa. Dean watched slightly wide eyed as Sam simply waited for his elder brother to be seated and promptly handed him back the bowl of popcorn and squashed himself into his side of the sofa.
Dean watched sadly.
Sam couldn't even bear to be near him anymore. It was evident from Sam's body language that Dean was about as welcome near him as a pack of starving cannibals.
" So what did I miss..?" Dean asked, as he flashed Sam a smile, hoping to break into a normal conversation with Sam.
" Nothing much..." Sam said quietly as he stifled a yawn, which Dean was quick to notice.
" You know, maybe you should try and get some sleep.." Dean said slowly, his eyes down staring into the popcorn bowl, his fingers brushing them.
" Can't sleep.." Sam said simply, he could feel Dean's eyes boring into the side of his head.
" Then how about some rest...?" Dean suggested, " Just stretch out and relax, you've been pretty wired the last few days, and you know how much I hate you when you're highly strung.." Dean kidded. " You get even more neurotic..."
Sam felt himself turn and stare at Dean. If he had any strength he'd have tipped that bowl of popcorn right over his big brother's head.
" You know what, Dean, I just want to watch this movie ok..?" Sam said in a controlled voice trying to keep any directed anger at Dean out of it.
However, judging from the look on Dean's face, Sam was pretty sure that he hadn't kept any anger out of it.
Instead, Dean went quiet, asked no more questions and continued to watch the movie in silence.
Sam on the other hand, sighed, rested his head on the side of the couch and tried to ignore the fact that when it came down to it, he was a pretty crap brother.
Sam's tired hazel eyes glanced over at Dean's face which was transfixed on the screen.
This was going to be a long night...
Sam's eyes slowly opened as the day light flooded the beach side apartment. It was then he realised that he couldn't move his arm.
His eyes now awake he glanced down and was partly surprised and at the same time amused to find Dean against him, his head on his upper arm, fast asleep.
A smile mustered on Sam's face.
Talk about the biggest chick flick moment of Dean's life.
Curled up on the sofa fast asleep like a child, squashed against your little brother with a blanket over both of you; this stuff was gold dust for Sam, and would earn him a crap load of points in teasing games against his older brother.
Sam sighed inwardly and stared down at Dean who slept silently on him, he couldn't see his watch as it was trapped under his sleeping brother, but with his other hand he gently gripped Dean's wrist and pulled it up and glanced at the time.
8.20 am
It was pretty early, even for Sam.
As much as he would love teasing Dean about this sleeping arrangement, he had to admit that it was comfy and warm. With the air conditioning on full blast thanks to Dean going psycho at it a week ago, the beach side apartment had been turned into the Antarctic, and Sam was ready to admit that this was probably the warmest he'd been in over six days.
It was ironic watching Dean's head resting against his body, sleeping so sound. Partly to do with trust, his ability now to drop his guard around Sam, not that he ever did it willingly, but when it happened Sam liked it.
This was one of those times where Dean's natural, human, brotherly instincts had obviously kicked in; it was a shame that Sam had been asleep for most of it. In fact Sam was convinced that if he had been awake, this little chick flick moment would have never taken place.
Besides, as cute as the situation was, and as funny as Sam would make it for the next few weeks with this gold dust like ammunition to use against Dean; Dean needed the sleep.
His brother had been like a zombie the last week or so, and Sam didn't even want to go back to the three weeks before that. A whole month since the car crash and neither of them had had a good night sleep, but in Dean's case, he hadn't had any real sleep. Dropping asleep in the car on the odd occasion that Sam got to drive for a half hour didn't count. Falling asleep on your bed for an hour after you'd finished having a nice hot shower didn't count as real sleep; and that was all Dean had got for almost a month.
It was no wonder that Dean looked beat to hell.
Easing himself out from under his brother's dead weight, he watched uneasily as Dean grunted in protest as Sam placed his head loosely back onto the couch, picked up a blanket and covered his elder brother with it.
Dean mumbled something, and drifted back into the land of nod.
A wide smile spread across Sam's face as he studied Dean's peaceful features. It was so good to see Dean sleeping, naturally without the awful aid of booze, or after a hot shower; this was just a calming natural sleep, and it offered Sam more hope than anyone could ever understand.
Dean no longer mentioned going to find dad.
The night after the faithful event at the cliffs, Dean has sat beside him on the sand, their backs against the sea wall, the salty air lulling them both into a comfortable atmosphere. Sam has sat there slumped in the sand with his head resting on Dean's tired shoulders, reassuring his scared elder brother that things would be ok between them.
However that discussion had been almost a week ago, and the whole 'things would be ok' conversation that had also taken place seemed like a life time away.
Dean never mentioned John Winchester anymore, or the idea of finding out where their father had taken off to, at least not right now, and Sam didn't blame him. Dean's mind was drifting into a million of places, and in Sam's opinion he still wasn't back to his normal self.
While Sam, Sam wasn't sure what he wanted. He knew he needed answers, he knew that he missed his dad and wanted to see him. However, right this moment, Dean needed him more, and that decision overrode anything he needed.
Dean hadn't been himself in five weeks, and Sam was seriously worried, mainly because he knew it was all because of the choices he made. The sad thing was that if it came down to those choices again, then Sam would do it all over again. Sam loved his family more than he could ever express; leaving them to die wasn't even an option in his mind.
However, this was different.
Dean sleeping like a baby, tucked up on the sofa under a warm fleece blanket, the lines of stress and worry that had been marring his handsome features seemed to be temporarily stripped back; back to the old Dean.
Sam gently placed a hand on top of his brother's shoulder and then let his hand fall gently away to his side.
Maybe things would get better.
After all, they couldn't get any worse...
Enjoying ? Hope so. Leave a review if you get a chance and I'll see you all next update…