A/N: Phew! That took way too long. Sorry about the super long delay guys, I've just had so much work to get done for uni. Hope you think this is alright anyway. And please, tell me what you think!
CHAPTER 3
Dude, Dean thought when he cracked his eyes open. What the hell happened last night? Did he inject alcohol into his bloodstream or something? Because his head was pounding like a group of hopped up howler monkeys that had some bongo drums and were enjoying them a little too much for Dean's liking, considering his present state. The moment he opened his eyes though, he snapped them shut again as light seared across his vision, slicing into his brain like a serrated knife.
Dean hissed in pain and rolled over, away from the brightness. When he attempted to sit up, the room spun and swirled before his eyes and a hand flew up, clasping his forehead as he fought the urge to vomit. When his stomach settled he moved again, slower this time, using the bed as leverage to get on his feet and he stood swaying by the side of the bed. It took him a moment to realise that he was only in his boxers, which meant someone must have put him to bed last night after...wait what did happen last night?
He racked his brain, thinking carefully about the last thing he could remember and pulling up a blank on all levels. So with a huff of annoyance Dean leant forwards, eyes shut against the head rush and fumbled in his duffle for a pair of jeans. Straightening again, Dean put a hand to his head, feeling hot and achy and sighed. He pulled his jeans on blearily and turned, hoping to grab a shower before he saw anyone.
So when he opened the door to his bedroom, all dishevelled and rumpled he prayed that he wouldn't come face to face with an angry Sasquatch. His prayers were answered thankfully and he slipped quietly, albeit slowly into the bathroom across the hall. The door clicked softly shut and Dean didn't even think to lock it, just turned to the shower, fumbling for the cold water tap and shucked his jeans and boxers off.
The water was cool and pleasant against his skin and Dean tilted his head back, eyes shut and let the water pound against his face as he leant an arm against the tiled wall. He stayed that way, motionless and quiet for a while longer and then, when he began to shiver, and the throbbing in his head reduced slightly, he twisted the hot water on and set about washing the grime of his forgotten escapades from last night off his skin.
He didn't hear the door open.
Jo looked up from her crossword when her mother walked into the room shaking her head.
"Hey Mom, what's the matter," she asked, placing her pen and paper down and jumping up to sit on the bar.
"I just can't find any of the towels, hun, it's okay I'm sure I put them somewhere–"
"Oh no, I put them in the guest bathroom. For Sam and Dean," Jo replied, cutting her mother of mid thought. "You want me to go get some?"
"Yeah, hun, that'd be great, I'm just so swamped." Ellen smiled, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. "Thanks,"
"S'okay," Jo said and turned, heading for the spare bathroom. It didn't really register in her mind that someone was using the shower until she was in the steam filled room itself.
She stopped dead in her tracks, letting the door swing shut and stared dumbly at non other than Dean Winchester, the man she had locked lips with the night before. And now here he was, stark naked in the shower, all smooth tan skin and rippling muscles. She watched through the fogged glass door of the shower as water sluiced down across his body and she followed the trail down, down, lower and lower. She watched as water ran down his chest, over his ribs, until it dipped lower, past his hips to – She pulled her gaze up quickly from the first hint of dark hair at the base of his hips and took a shuddering step back, hitting the door with a quiet thud and cringed, unable to move when Dean turned the shower off and fumbled for a towel.
He wrapped the blue fluffy towel around his slim hips and turned, stepping out of the shower all smooth skin, steaming from the heat of the water. He had his eyes closed; one hand kneading his forehead but something must have niggled at his hunter senses because Jo watched with dread as he dropped his hand quickly, shoulders tensing. Jo wished she could just die. Or slip very, very quietly and very, very quickly out of this room...which was getting increasingly warmer because. Hello! Practically naked Dean in front of her!!! Jo managed to think this in the time it took Dean to get out of the shower and realise there was someone in the room with him, which really said something about how nervous she really was...and more importantly how embarrassed she was. But when Dean opened his eyes, Jo had her back turned and was saying, 'Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to I swear!"
"Jesus Jo, if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask," Dean drawled from behind her and Jo flushed right down to her toes.
"That's not true! Shut up! I'm just here to collect some towels for Mom," She replied haughtily, back still turned. She threw a hand out behind her and said, "Gimme some. And I'm not turning around because I don't want to be traumatised for the rest of my life," It has nothing to do with the fact that I'll probably turn into a pile of goo if I see him partially naked again. Not at all.
"Sure, Jojo, I believe you," He said, a smile evident in his voice, "But it's okay, I've got pants on now,"
"Really?" Jo said doubtfully, because she wouldn't put it past him to be just stood there wearing nothing at all.
"Really." Dean replied.
There was a moments silence as Jo considered her possibilities and finally she said, "I don't believe you."
"Oh, for Christssake Jo, here," He said, and shoved a handful of towels over her shoulder and shoved past her, his right hand kneading at his forehead again. She watched, bewildered as Dean strode into his and Sam's bedroom, shutting the door without a seconds glance at her and Jo felt cold inside. What had he just forgotten last night? Pushed it from his memories because it – she was that bad? And then Jo felt angry, because this blatant dismissal was so uncalled for.
Dean jolted and spun around in shock as Jo stomped into the room letting the door close with a heavy thud. He had a t-shirt in his hands and was staring at Jo like she had just grown another head.
"What the hell is your problem?" Jo hissed, trying to stay quiet, because she didn't want an audience for this conversation. Hell her mother didn't even know, and she wanted it to stay that way.
Dean snorted, pulling his faded blue t-shirt over his head to settle, perfectly over the curve of his muscles. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific there, and can you stop shouting,"
"You know exactly what I mean! What happened last night! I still can't believe you just made that decision for me–"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean said, holding his hands up, his face the picture of confused. "What the hell are you talking about? What decision did I make for you?" His eyebrows were quirked up in confusion.
"Are you trying to tell me you don't remember because you drank too much goddamn WHISKEY?!"
"Shit, calm the hell down. I can't even remember why I went out last night to get drunk when there's a perfectly good bar down the hall, and now you're shouting at me about a decision I 'supposedly' made for you and I can't even remember!!!" Dean hissed back at her, eyes narrowed to slits.
"Please, are you trying to tell me you don't remember kissing me last night?" Jo scoffed, folding her arms and rolling her eyes.
There was a beat of silence. Jo looked up then, embarrassed because Dean really didn't remember.
"I kissed you?" He asked voice quiet.
There was another beat of silence. Jo dropped her arms and bit her lip, not meeting Dean's eyes.
"Um, yeah." Her face flushed hotly, hurt that Dean didn't remember, and embarrassed because she had spoken so bluntly.
"Oh," His face was open and a little stunned but, thankfully not nauseated at the concept.
"Yeah,"
The silence this time dragged.
Jo looked at her feet, her face red from embarrassment and not looking at Dean said, "Don't worry about it, it was nothing. A mistake. Sorry, I'll just-,"
She was turning to go, shame flooding through her when a hand, soft and hesitant touched her shoulder. She stopped, her hand reaching for the door knob and Dean turned her around. His face was tilted down to her level. He was biting his bottom lip, worrying at the pink flesh.
"What ever," He said softly, eyes lowered, lashes kissing his cheeks. "What ever happened last night, it wasn't a mistake."
And then he kissed her, big, warm hands framing her face.
All that Jo could think, when Dean pulled away, was that the kiss hadn't lasted long enough, so it wasn't her fault that a tiny whimper escaped her mouth and she tried to follow his lips when he pulled away with a slick noise.
"Jo," He said eyes wide and for some reason he looked panicked as if he finally remembered why he had gone out and gotten drunk last night. The hell if she knew why this couldn't happen. "Jo I can't, not now," His breath sucked in fast and he took a step back away from her. Jo tilted her head to the side, confused and hurt but Dean had not said he didn't feel the same way.
With a deep breath she stepped towards him, stepped into his space and felt the warmth radiating from him. She reached up to touch his face, to cup her fingers around his jaw and rub a drop of water from his cheek with her thumb. At the contact Dean shut his eyes, biting his already swollen bottom lip. He took another deep shuddering breath as Jo leaned up, tugging on his neck and kissed him.
This time the kiss was longer.
It wasn't a drunken/high on-pain-meds fumbling kiss.
It wasn't chaste and too short.
It was everything she had thought it would be and nothing like it at the same time.
Dean's lips were soft and warm, and Jo pressed forwards, leaning her body into the furnace that was his body and kissed him harder. She licked at his mouth, tasting his pink lips and tugging at his plush bottom lip wanting to get deeper, deeper into this man before her. She brought her other hand up to capture his face, to keep him with her and shuddered when Dean wound a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. She breathed a sigh against his mouth and suddenly he pressed down against her, licking at her mouth.
And then he stopped suddenly.
She should have realised that it was too good to be true.
She should have realised he would pull away.
He used the hand wound in her locks to dislodge her lips from his and he looked pained.
When Dean pulled away, put his hands on the tops of her arms – like a brother would a sister – she flushed. This rejection, his rejection of her struck her hard and fast in the gut. She sniffed and blinked back tears and pulled out of his grip. It didn't help that the expression on his face was anguished and pain-filled.
"Jo," Dean said, fingers like brands against her skin. "Jo," He said again, his voice rough and it told her a thousand things. And then he moved, dragging his hands to her face, tracing her brow and cheeks with calloused fingers, with devotion. She looked at him and he was flushed, eyes bright, fever-like with pupils blown wide and black leaving only a thin ring of evergreen to sparkle in the sun. Jo almost moaned when Dean wrapped his fingers into her hair again, this time to pull her to him. Dean smelt of soap and musk and he was perfect.
His lips were hot and slick as he licked his way into her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip and sucking on her tongue. Shock and pleasure thrummed through her as Dean pulled her, tugged her body until it was flush against his, and Dean was all hard lines and smooth, damp muscles. He looked wild. Wild and beautiful.
She touched him then, bringing her hands up to fist at the nape of his neck, to grip his bare shoulders and feel the muscle there, feel the power that pulsed through his body. And Dean groaned, sliding a big, warm palm down her spine to rest at the small of her back. His other hand gripped her leg, pulling her flush against him. But most importantly was the fact that Jo could taste him and Dean was kissing her, devouring her.
He was kissing her like he wanted to climb inside her.
He was kissing her like it was the end of the world and she was his salvation.
He was kissing her like he was saying goodbye.
"Jo," Dean said as he gripped her tightly, trying to ground himself because he couldn't, he couldn't, "Jo," He repeated somewhat brokenly as he touched her face. He traced her brow, followed the curve of her cheeks. Then wrapped his fingers into her smooth, blonde hair and stared at her. He stared at her flushed face and slanted eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. Stared at her lips, at the way they parted when he leaned towards her, breathing her scent in.
Then before he could stop himself, Dean found himself kissing her. He licked at her mouth, at her cupids bow and bottom lip, relishing in the shudder that shook her body and pulled her against him, feeling her all soft curves and long lines. He couldn't do this, but he had to, he had to because–
He was against the door and Jo was against him. He slanted his mouth over hers, and groaned into her mouth when she reached up to touch him. Jo's fingers were hesitant as they fisted in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. They trembled when they gripped his bare shoulders and held on, and Dean could tell she was unsure if he meant this. So he touched her back, smoothing a hand down her spine to rest at the curve at the base of her back, just above the swell of her ass. His other hand gripped a leg and pulled her up flush against his hips so she could feel that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. And Jo gasped and shuddered, rocking her hips against his.
Dean gasped into her mouth, pulling away from those lips with a slick sound and latched onto her neck, licking and kissing and biting his way down to her collar bone under her strappy red top. She whimpered as he nibbled on the space where her neck met shoulder and sucked a bruise there.
"Dean," she gasped, and her voice was rough and rung out, "Dean, oh god," she fumbled to touch his face.
Dean closed his eyes at the touch of her fingers curving around his jaw, at the feel of her hot palms on his cheeks and thumbs stroking underneath his eyes. He looked up, through his eyelashes and licked his lips watching as she shuddered and tracked the movement of his tongue. So he did it again. He flicked his tongue out across his bottom lip and then sunk his teeth in.
This time it was Jo who devoured him. She licked over the plump fullness that was his bottom lip, sucking at it and biting down gently before pulling back and saying unevenly, "Dean," Jo sighed as he kissed the corner of her mouth in response, "Dean, I need you,"
Dean arched his back at the admission, pushing himself closer to her, clenching his eyes closed because, because he couldn't. It would make everything so much harder, leaving two people he loved behind. Dean didn't know if he could deal with the idea of leaving Jo when his deal came due, didn't know if he could deal with the effect his death would have on her as he was in the pit. He couldn't do this to her, couldn't, he couldn't, but...
"Jo," He whispered brokenly against her neck.
Jo's body jerked against the way his voice sounded murmured against her skin and she pulled his face up, pulled his face up to hers and said, "Dean,"
"Jo," His voice was broken and her hands touched the back of his head. "Jo if you knew, you wouldn't. I can't do it to you, not when I know what will happen, what it'll do to you,"
"Dean, what?" She began and worry was creeping into her voice, and fear. Fear that Dean was about to pull away. "Is this because of my Mom, cos she'll cool down eventually you know," He could see Jo hoping that he would stay, that this would happen between them and Dean could do nothing but step away. He saw the hurt of his actions thrum through her
"It's not that and if I wasn't I would...but I can't," He said knowing full well that, that sentence had made no sense whatsoever.
"That made no sense." Jo spoke and she was still harbouring hope in her voice.
"It wasn't supposed to," He replied. He knew he had that look in his eyes, the one that said he being backed into a corner and thought he was going to lose. And Jo could see it. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his still damp hair and then turned away, striding across the room to sink down onto his bed. Jo followed, quietly padding her way to sit beside him and Dean closed his eyes as her scent invaded his senses.
"I don't understand what's wrong about wanting this Dean," Jo said, a hesitant hand on his wrist.
"It's not-" He began turning to face her but a startling knock sounded on the door and Ellen's voice came, muffled through the door,
"Dean, you in there hun? I'm looking for Jo have you seen her?"
"Shit," Dean murmured, looking towards Jo who shook her head vehemently.
"No Ellen, sorry!" He called back and sighed in relief when the elder woman strode away, footsteps fading into the distance.
"I should go," Jo said apologetically.
"Yeah." Dean replied and Jo stood up. He watched as she walked over to the door and put her hand on the door knob once more. Dean opened his mouth to speak, inhaling but stopped, tilting his head to the side as he heard a faint growling coming from the window. He stood up, nodding to Jo as she finally left and made his way to the noise. Unsurprisingly there was nothing there; the damn hellhounds were just toying with him, trying to keep him on edge at all times. And well, Dean had to say they were doing a wonderful job of it. So, shaking his head he closed the curtains and lay back down to get some much needed rest. After all, he still felt like crap.
Sam knew he should probably go and check to see whether Dean was awake yet. After all, he had slept all through yesterday, only waking up – according to Jo – to have a shower and take some pills before going back to sleep. Jo had told him, deadpanned and Sam knew something else had happened. He had rolled his eyes at both of their stupidity and gone back to researching possible ways out of the deal. As it were, Sam was currently nose-deep in another of Ellen's demonology books when said owner of the book ventured into the kitchen. So engrossed with his research – he felt like he was on the brink of a discovery so he couldn't stop now – Sam didn't hear the door open – or close – and really didn't hear Ellen stride up behind him to peer over his shoulder. It was only when she coughed emphatically that he shot upright, slamming the book closed.
"Jesus Christ Ellen, you scared the crap outta me. Don't sneak up on people like that!" Sam said clutching at his heart. Ellen just raised her eyebrows in amusement and said:
"So what is it that has you all in a flap?"
"Uh, nothing. Just...reading up on some stuff about...stuff?" Sam replied, cringing inwardly because hell, he wouldn't have believed that either. Ellen raised her eyebrows – if it were even possible – higher again and folded her arms, slid into the chair across from the youngest Winchester.
"Sure." She said dryly. "Reading up on– I believe that Sam, thousands wouldn't. So you wanna tell me what you're really doing in here with your face all pressed up against the pages, for three and a half hours?"
"Um." Sam responded looking at the table because...well he'd been caught off guard and all his excuses had dried up.
"That's what I thought. And while I'm at it, what's up with you and Dean? Something happen recently that I'm not aware of? Did you boys have a fight?"
"Lots of stuff happens Ellen, we're hunters after all." Sam replied snarkily.
"Now don't get like that with me Sam, I'm just worried about you boys is all." Her eyes had narrowed to slits at Sam's tone and he cringed back into his seat at the look he was being lanced with.
"I know Ellen, I'm sorry. I just...with Dean and...I just don't know what to do anymore."
"Well now, that's a start. Why are you so worried about your brother?"
Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's just been a tough couple of weeks is all," He said, turning away, hoping to put Ellen off this subject.
"You know that's not gonna put me off Sam, so how about the truth this time?" She leaned towards him, elbows on the table. Her face was kind, which softened the harshness of her tone, but Sam knew that her 'question' was more of a demand.
"I promised I wouldn't, Ellen," He said, not looking at her. Sam knew he couldn't tell Ellen about the deal. He knew it. He had promised Dean that he would not tell either of the Harvelle's, and it wasn't that Sam intended to break his promise he just...he just wanted someone to help him, he just wanted someone to tell him what to do, how to save Dean. He wanted John here. He would know what to do.
"Well don't you think that if it this serious that you're making promises not to tell anyone, that maybe you should tell someone?" Ellen said softly.
He shouldn't tell her.
But, oh, he wanted the weight lifted from his shoulders for a little while.
He shouldn't tell her.
He shouldn't.
He shouldn't.
He–
"Last year," He began huskily, "Last year, at the Devil's gate, do you remember Ellen?" He asked, looking up at her under his fringe.
"Yes," She said, drawing out the word as if to say, where are you going with this?
"Just before that...something happened. Something bad happened." He broke off fingers rubbing across his eyes to dispel the burning that could only mean tears were in his eyes.
"What honey, what happened?"
Dean awoke with a startled gasp, blinking ferociously to dispel images of being chased and ripped apart by hell hounds. He groaned, shoving the heel of his hand into his eyes and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. He groaned again when he realised it was about 2 in the afternoon on Wednesday. So that meant he'd slept through an entire day yesterday. Sheesh.
Levering himself up, Dean grabbed his duffle bag and rifled through it, looking for something to wear. He eventually pulled out a plain t-shirt and some old, soft and worn jeans that he should probably have dumped a while ago but for some reason couldn't bear to part with. He pulled the fraying jeans on and then the t-shirt before leaving the room in favour of finding food and his brother...preferably in that order, because he didn't want to deal with sasquatch Sammy just yet.
Dean was sticking with this plan when he heard raised voices coming from the kitchen. Curiosity getting the better of him, Dean slowed his steps, quieting them and padded barefoot down the corridor and pushed the door open quietly. He stopped, frozen in disbelief as he watched the scene unfold before him.
"–ean went to a crossroads and –" Sam broke off.
"Oh honey, please don't tell me what I think you're about to tell me," Ellen said, hand rubbing up and down Sam's arm.
"He made a deal Ellen, my life for his soul and I can't, I can't–" Sam's voice broke and Dean watched as tears began to roll down his cheeks, hidden by his hands.
And then Ellen was gathering Sam up in her arms, saying, "Oh baby, oh Sam, it's alright, come here honey,"
"He's got less than two weeks left and I still haven't-I haven't..." He hiccupped and leant back to look at Ellen, but his eyes skittered up to the now open door way and to Dean whose breath had whooshed out of him. "Dean! Dean wait-"
Dean turned on his heel and stepped out of the kitchen, striding down the hall to the main bar to make his escape. He couldn't deal with this now, Sam had promised, promised him that he wouldn't tell anyone and–
"Stop! Stop, Dean, wait!" Sam's words cut Dean to the bone, the scared tone that screamed, please, please don't leave. But Dean was too angry, and he used the anger that stabbed him deep in the chest to cover the abysmal ache of hurt and betrayal.
He got to the bar door when he heard Sam's pounding footsteps in the hallway behind him and slammed into the room, revelling in the way Jo jumped up with fright from where she was sat at the table. Her face was a picture of surprise when she saw the thunderous look on Dean's face and Sam trailing behind him saying,
"Dean, stop, wait, man please understand, I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't mean it! And I know I promised I wouldn't tell anyone but –" Sam said, rushing after him. And it was only thanks to exceptionally long legs that Sam had managed to catch up with Dean and grab his shoulder.
"Let me go Sam," He growled, keeping his eyes away from Sam's face and imploring eyes, all the while attempting to pull his arm free of his little brother's bear grip. When that failed – it wasn't that Dean was weak; no it was just that Sam was a strong bastard when he wanted to be, and Dean's ribs hurt too much to really try and get away from his brother – he kept his head down, stopped struggling and said calmly, his tone blank, "Let me go."
"No," Sam retorted, placing his right hand on Dean's other shoulder. And Dean got even angrier. He didn't deserve this; he had done what he thought best, he had saved his little brother from death. The one thing he had asked from his brother was to not spill his secrets to every damn hunter in the world. Especially Ellen and Jo. He knew what would happen if people knew. He'd get the pitying looks, he'd get told he deserved it, what did he expect? After all he was the stupid bastard who made the deal, why should anyone help him escape hell? Then he'd get the people who'd turn him into a cautionary tale, Dad's would tell their boys, don't go making no deals with the devil son, remember that Dean Winchester, that poor bastard's still rotting in hell. Well fuck them. And fuck Sam and his self righteous ass. Why should he put up with his bullshit and lame excuses? So Sam felt guilty for betraying his trust, for breaking his promise, so what? Did he care? Yes actually, he cared so much it was making his eyes sting and his chest hurt.
"Dean, breath, for Christ sake," Sam said shaking him suddenly. Dean gasped in a breath of air and then another before saying quietly:
"I swear to God if you don't let me go right the fuck now I'm gonna–"
Sam cut him off – and didn't that just piss Dean off all the more – saying, "I'm sorry Dean, you have to believe me, I know you didn't want me to tell anyone, but you won't do anything about it! You won't help me save you at all, and I need you, I can't do this without you. So I went to Ellen, she might be able to help us Dean! I didn't mean to betray you but–" And yeah, like hell Sam hadn't meant all to tell Ellen.
Dean felt hurt and angry and betrayed by his last living family member and he just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere and curl into a tight ball and block out the world. He didn't want to go to hell. He didn't want to die. And here was Sam making it all the worse for him. But worst of all he wanted to believe Sam, believe him when he said he could save Dean, believe him when he said he needed Dean.
But Dean couldn't believe him.
Could never trust him again.
Not after this.
And all went silent at this revelation.
Sam was still talking to him, still shaking him, still trying to get forgiveness but he could hear nothing, he could see Sam's lips moving, see the words painted on his mouth, but heard nothing but the hell hound.
It was behind him, sniffing at his feet. Its growl was a deep rumbling of thunder that shook Dean to his very core. Dean went stock still and rigid in Sam's grip, ignoring the confusion on Sam's face and question in his eyes. Dean felt it nudge his leg with its snout, its teeth grazing his jeans. So taking a deep breath he looked down and to his left, never in a million years expecting to see what had been hounding him these past weeks.
The hell hound was black.
That was Dean's first observation.
And then he realised that that was a bad description.
It was more like a black hole, a yawning emptiness where the dog should be. A hound shaped hole of black with piercing red eyes that smouldered like coals in a fire. Its fur was dense and shaggy but looked oily as it glinted grimly in the fluorescent lights. Its jowls shuddered with each growl that it let loose from its throat and each snap of its teeth sent drool and spittle dribbling onto the floor, sizzling little holes into the wood where it landed thick and cloudy. Stained teeth peeked out from underneath its lips, long and curved like knives, too many for Dean to count and he willed himself not to move.
He watched as the dog swished its tail, long and black, leaving a trail of embers behind it to float to the ground, disappearing into nothing. The only evidence that they had been there was the imprint on the inside of Dean's eyelids when he closed his eyes in shock, in horror.
The paws were tar slick and sticky; its claws were sharp and twisted down towards the wooden floor where they were scratching deep gouges into the oak with each little movement and twitch. Dean could see a trail of tar and ash leading out of the roadhouse, and he knew, he knew immediately that he needed to get it away from his brother, needed to get it away from Jo and Ellen.
It growled again, a flash of fire flicking from the open jaws of the hell hound, and it snapped at Dean's feet again. This time Dean saw as well as felt the fire lick at his ankles and up his calves and only managed to hold back a shout of pain. If it could touch him, if it could melt his jeans with a single lick of its long lolling tongue, if it could twitch its head and burn and blister the skin of Dean's leg with a single snort from its snout, it could do it to Sam. He whimpered minutely at the pain, hoping Sam wouldn't hear.
"Dean, man, what's wrong?"
Dean said nothing, not taking his eyes off the hound next to him and shoved his brother, as hard as he could away from him. He inwardly winced when Sam tumbled to the floor and took a step away. The hell hound followed, so Dean took another step, then another when the dog continued to follow him.
So preoccupied with the hell hound Dean didn't notice his brother levering himself off the floor an expression of hurt on his face. But he sure as hell noticed Sam when he grabbed Dean again, by the arms, shaking him.
"Dean, what's wrong?!" His eyebrows were furrowed with worry when Dean finally, finally looked up at him, looked at his brother's eyes that were no longer clouded with anger, and watched as his face slowly distorted. Sam's head snapped to the side and his mouth gaped open, eyes dribbling a black, blood like substance. He twitched, head jerking until it was tilted on an angle and let out a snarl that crackled through a twisted throat.
The burning in Dean's arms caused him to look down, and he found the things hands burning hand prints into his flesh. The fingers were scrabbling at his arms as if trying to tear chunks of him off. Dean flinched away out of his grasp and watched as the things head rolled forwards on its neck as it brought its hands up to its mouth. Head bowed Dean watched as a tongue flicked out tasting the blood and burnt flesh under the fingernails. Dean watched as it sucked all of the blood off its fingers and then looked up at Dean for more one arm reaching out towards him.
It smiled.
Dean flicked his eyes to either side of the things head, watching as two more of the things lurched and staggered towards him. The one on the left looked as if its ankle was broken, and its hair that probably was once golden and flowing was in bloody clumps where it seemed to have been torn out. Its face was distorted; eyes gouged out and bloody, mouth torn open wider than possible and seemed intent on screaming as it took slow, wavering steps towards him. The skin of its face was sliding off as if it had been half skinned alive, but it seemed to relish in this fact, pulling clumps of the flesh off along with its hair.
The thing to the far right was in no better condition; one shoulder was pulled up, its hand hanging limply at its chest as it darted forwards, then back, as if feinting or skittish. Its chest had been torn open, as if one of the things had been looking for something within the rib cage, the bones all broken and pointing outwards but seemed to move inwards when it breathed in harsh, shuddering wheezes. The fingers on the hand held at its ripped open chest were bloody, and burnt, the skin black and white bone peeked through the mess of torn flesh. The things eyes were scarily normal, hazel and wide, wide for the eyelids had been torn off and were being chewed vigorously in a lipless mouth, teeth sharp and pointed.
And then all of a sudden it was gone, and it was Sam and Ellen and Jo looking at Dean all wearing similar looks of confusion and concern.
His arms weren't bleeding anymore.
"Shit," Dean murmured backing away again. "Shit, what the fuck is going on?"
"Dean, what is it? Man, tell me what's wrong?"
"Fuck," Dean muttered, remembering the hell hound. He swung around looking for the beast of a dog only to find paw prints and scratches leading outside. To be sure he checked the inside of the bar, ignoring Sam and Jo and Ellen and their calls of worry, and when he was certain that it was gone, he turned to Sam and just looked at him.
"Fuck off Sam, leave me alone." He said pulling himself out of Sam's death grip he had going on. He gave his brother a meaningful look and turned to go back into the bar, a plan of attack already developing in his mind.
"Fuck off Sam, leave me alone." Sam almost took a step away from the utter fury in Dean's tone but the look that he gave him made him stop and think. What if Dean's odd behaviour was to do with the deal?
"Dean! Wait-" Sam said, noticing that his brother was already disappearing through the doorway, but Ellen's hand on his arm stopped him. Looking down at the smaller woman he gave her a desperate look but she simply shook her head.
"Let him be, Sam. Give him time to cool off," She said leading him towards a chair.
"I don't want him to be alone, he might run off or-" Sam broke off, running his fingers through his hair and making to go after his brother but Ellen forcefully stopped him once more.
"He doesn't want to see you right now Sam, you're only going to make it worse. If you're that worried," She said seeing the wild look in his eyes, "I'll send Jo down to babysit," She looked up at her daughter who was privately wondering what the hell was going on and said, "Jo, hun, will you go stay with Dean, make sure he doesn't run off anywhere,"
"Sure Mom," She said slowly, eyebrows furrowed, "But wh-"
"I'm not going to tell you, and neither is Sam."
"I doubt Dean will either," Sam said from between his hands. "Just, please Jo, make sure he doesn't leave,"
"Alright, don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him,"
"Thanks Jo, just...thankyou."
The knock on the door sent Dean on edge and he growled through clenched teeth, "Sam leave me the FUCK alone,"
"It's not Sam, Dean," The voice replied and Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling whispering "Why, why would you do such a thing! For godssake...dammit,"
"Would you just open the door." Jo growled back, "Come on, I haven't got all day. Open the door."
"No." Dean shot back leaning against the wall and folding his arms.
"Don't make me get Sam," She threatened and Dean swore.
"Fuck, fine, fine, you hear me? Come in." Dean flicked the lock and went back to packing his bags, completely ignoring the very existence of the blonde behind him.
"Dean, what-?" She began and Dean growled back still to her. He didn't want to look at her. Now that Ellen knew it wouldn't be long before-
"Just shut up." He said hands clenched at his sides.
"What's going on? Did you have a fight with Sam?"
"No, he's just a fucking-"
"Dean," Jo said coming to stand beside him. He could see her in his peripheral vision, all blonde hair and pink lips and he closed his eyes tightly shut. He clenched his fists tighter, nails cutting into the palms of his hands, trying, trying not to touch her. Trying not to look at her. He didn't want to see her face twisted and horrifying.
He didn't count on her touching him.
"Dean," She said softly, a hesitant hand place on his arm. "Dean, what's wrong, why are you leaving?"
"You want to know?!" Dean shouted angry, "You really wanna fucking know?! 'Cos once I tell you there's no going back."
"Dean it can't be that ba-" She began softly, laying a hand on his arm.
Dean wrenched out of her grip striding away. It was five steps before he swung around eyes lazing and said dangerously:
"I sold my fucking soul Jo. I'm going to fucking hell in two weeks! Is that bad enough for you?!"
"W-what?" The shocked, disbelieving look upon Jo's face would have been funny if Dean wasn't so angry.
"I sold my soul. I sold my soul Jo! I sold my FUCKING soul!" He spat out, turning away from her. "Now do you understand? Get the fuck out."
Dean closed his eyes tightly when he heard the snick of the door shutting and let out a harsh laugh, suck it up Dean, got what you fucking wanted. Just deal with it and get the hell outta here before Sam comes in. Nodding to himself Dean set about locking the door and continuing to pack his bag, motions jerky and vision blurred. Not fucking crying, come on. Suck it UP Dean! He threw his bag down onto the bed angry at himself, angry at his weakness and strode away to face the door.
But then Dean couldn't hold it in any longer and hot, wet tears rolled down his cheeks as he punched the door, once, twice, three times before sliding down to rest before it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. Not anymore.
When Jo came running back into the room not five minutes later, tears streaming down her face Sam just knew that Dean had told her. But it was the panicked look upon her face that made Sam jump up from his seat.
"Jo? Jo, what is it? What's the matter?" Sam asked hurriedly.
"He's leaving, he's leaving Sam. Stop him."
"No!" His heart leapt into his throat and before anyone could stop him, Sam was charging down the corridor and banging on the door leading to his and Dean's room. "Dean! Dean please, please let me in, don't go!"
"Dean! Dean please, please let me in, don't go!"
Fuck that, Dean thought as Sam continued to bang on the door. Enough with being a pussy, enough with fucking sitting on the floor crying, enough with fucking everything. For once Dean was going to do what Sam did. For once Dean was going to be the one to leave.
"No! No, whatever you think you're doing. Don't! I swear to God Dean whatever dumb ass this you think you're going to get away with let me tell you, it's not going to work! So just open the fucking door!" Sam's voice was strained, and he knew, he knew what Dean was planning.
So levering himself up off the floor and shouldering his bag he turned back to the door and said, loud enough that Sam would be able to hear him, "Sorry, Sammy."
"NO!" Sam hit the door again, probably with his shoulder...or maybe his head.
Ignoring the howl Sam made Dean vaulted out of the window and took off at a sprint towards the impala, with much difficulty because of his ribs. What worried him was the fact that the pounding on the door had stopped. And that only meant one thing.
Shit Sam was trying to head him off. Was going to meet him at the impala and try and stop him.
Why couldn't this just be easy?
So Dean was still running towards the impala despite the sharp stabbing pains shooting through his ribs with his jolting step, when he saw the hulking figure of his brother stood by the drivers' door. He came to a stop just shy of Sam's monkey arms reach.
"You stupid bastard! What the fuck are you doing? Where the fuck are you going?" Sam spat and Dean shifted his feet almost guiltily because Sam never swore, not really, so he must be really upset...or really pissed to be hurling abuse at Dean. He was conscious of Ellen and Jo watching but ignored them in favour of shouting back to Sam:
"What do you think Sam? I'm getting out of here." Dean replied stoically, the mask had come down, the walls had gone up. Sam was getting nothing from him. But then Sam's expression had changed with his words. Aw hell no, Dean thought blindly as he turned away. The puppy eyes were coming out.
"No, Dean, what are you doing? I know I told Ellen, I know I've betrayed your trust, but why are you leaving? You can't just leave, Dean!" Sam's voice was broken and wavering, betraying the fact that he was almost crying.
"Fuck. You." He said again, trying to remain angry, remembering that Sam had tried to manipulate him. He put a hand to his ribs, which were throbbing and pulsing with a white hot pain and Sam's eyes tracked the movement.
"You're still hurt, you can't go anywhere!" Sam said taking a step forwards.
"I am, and I will." Dean replied, his eyebrows pulled down and he glared at Sam who was reaching out to him. "You can't change this Sam!" He said finally, stopping Sam in his place. Dean looked up, afraid at the expression he would see on Sam's face.
Sam looked like he'd been punched in the gut. He was stooped, and pale, like the blood had drained from his face at Dean's revelation that he didn't think that Sam could save him from Hell. Dean winced but repeated his words, "You can't change what I did,"
Sam was a few paces away from the impala now and seemed to be stuck in place. So Dean figured this may be his only chance to get out of here without hurting his brother any more.
His mind was doing a somewhat sad victory dance when his hand made contact with the door handle until Sam's hands came down on his shoulders. The iron grip of his fingers pulled Dean away from the car and suddenly Dean was being shaken.
"I'm not letting you leave. Whether you believe in me or not, you're still not going anywhere!" And Sam was still gripping Dean tightly and pulling him away from the impala and towards the Roadhouse.
Dean elbowed Sam in the gut, and when Sam's breath wheezed out Dean scrambled from underneath his grasp, only to have his arm grabbed. He turned and sent a death glare at his brother. He didn't want Sam to be caught up in this mess anymore. Didn't want to let him hope and hope and when the day came and Dean died it would be so much worse.
Maybe he should have topped himself, sent his soul down ahead of time.
Sam let go of his arm, but stood between Dean and the impala again, his stance was a warning: you have to go through me to leave. But his eyes said, I don't want to hurt you, don't make me hurt you, please Dean. But Dean simply said, "Bring it on," and clenched his fists tight lowering them from where they had been held protectively at his ribs.
Their fight was short-lived, after all Sam fought dirty knowing that Dean was still hurt, still weak. Dean got one good shot in on Sam's jaw, wincing in sympathy when his lip split and blood dripped down his chin. But that sympathy was fleeting when Sam jabbed him hard in the side.
"I'm sorry Dean, I can't let you go," Sam said before hitting him.
Pain bloomed at the back of Dean's head, it radiated in waves through his body, spiking and fluctuating in agonising ripples; he stumbled forwards at the force of the blow, pressing his hands in front of him in an effort keep himself upright. Sam hit him. The knowledge astounded him as he began to tumble to the floor, fully expecting to hit the floor a full speed, but Sam's arms caught him gently about his waist. Sam was tender, contradicting his previous action of violence and it made Dean shudder. His vision blurred and darkened, but he managed to catch Sam's heartbroken expression before he was swept away into a nightmarish oblivion, glaring all the while.
Dean didn't remember anything after that.
"I'm sorry Dean, I can't let you go," Sam said, pulling his arm back and punching his brother in the back of the head. He winced, closing his eyes at the desperate sound his brother made, grappling for purchase on anything as he stumbled and began to fall. Sam grabbed him about the waist, aiming for gentle, apologising with tender hands for his brutal treatment, and watched as Dean sank into unconsciousness with anger and betrayal in his eyes.
Dean went limp after that, and the dead weight made Sam feel sick. He could still here Ellen sniffling behind him, and called out, "I need some rope or handcuffs or something Ellen could you get me some? Jo can you help me get him inside to one of the booths?"
The blonde was there in an instant, helping Sam grab his brother and lever him upright. She took hold of one of Dean's arms, slinging around her shoulder before pulling him, along with Sam towards the nearest booth. They positioned Dean into a semi upright position in the leather booth, waiting for Ellen to return with something to hold Dean with.
"So can you explain to me how all this happened then?" Jo asked, sitting opposite Dean, watching the elder with worried, tearful eyes as he breathed slow and deep. His face was smooth and wrinkle free, he looked so much younger when he slept, Sam couldn't help but think.
"No," Sam said slumping onto the floor beside his brother's legs, "I think, maybe you should hear it all from Dean, what with how things have been between you to lately."
Jo cocked her head at that, eyebrows furrowed in worry, but before she could open her mouth to question him again, he said, "Do you think you could go get my Dad's journal from our room?"
"Sure," She said softly, and giving Dean one last fond though worried look she left. Ellen sat down in her vacated seat, passing the handcuffs to Sam who took them with a thankful nod. He levered Dean forwards so his chest was pressed against the table. Then he took hold of Dean's wrists and flipped the handcuffs shut, reclining his brother back against the soft leather of the chairs. He rubbed at his burning eyes and shuffled over to the bar, grabbing the whiskey and taking a long, hard gulp.
"Sam," Ellen was at his elbow, touching his arm softly, trying to take the bottle from his clenched grip. "That won't help hun," She said softly, pulling him along into a booth behind Dean's.
"Don't tell Jo," He said suddenly, and Elle leant away from him in surprise.
"What? Sam, I think the cat's out of the bag now, you don't have to worry about your promise to Dean–"
"Just...let Dean do it, in his own time."
"This is because of those two getting close isn't it?" Ellen said with a knowing look in her eyes.
"You know?" Sam said, too tired to be shocked.
"Boy a mother always knows when her girls got a thing for a man,"
"Yeah, well Dean's got a thing for your girl and is too torn up about this deal to do anything. He's been pushing Jo away, trying to save her the heartache or something when he–" Sam broke off with a choked sob when he realised what he had been about to say.
"Sam," Ellen said, reaching across the table to grip his wrist, "Sam I want you to tell me everything that's happened. I mean everything, I need the whole story if we're going to try and help,"
So Sam did. Relayed every little bit of information that he could remember; spoke of everything Dean had told him about the deal. He told them of killing the crossroads demon, of Lilith and Ruby, of the trickster and Dean dying. He told them everything and anything about the past year that happened. And when he finished they looked as worn as Sam felt.
"So a week, Dean has a little under 2 weeks left, and I still have no idea how to help him." Sam murmured.
"I'll try my best to help Sam, but I don't know if I have any book that'll help you break this deal,"
"I know," Sam said, head bowed towards the table, "I know, but I have to try,"
"I still don't know why he was looking at us like that before. Sam? Any idea?"
But Sam didn't have the opportunity to respond because Dean groaned from the table in front of them, his head rolling as he tried to pull himself upright.
"Dean?" He said quickly getting out of the booth and striding towards his brother, "You okay man, sorry 'bout hitting you," He looked down at Dean, whose glaring at him from beneath his eyelashes. "Aw Dean, come on, don't look at me like that. You would have done the same thing if it was me in this position."
Dean squinted and looked away, muttering something beneath his breath that Sam thought sounded remarkably like, "Fucker," and pulled at his handcuffs. Sam rolled his eyes sitting down opposite Dean.
"You're just gonna hit me if I take 'em off Dean. Quit pulling."
"Fuck off Sam," Dean said angrily blatantly ignoring what Sam had just said.
"Now Dean," Ellen began, coming into view and sliding in to sit beside Sam, "Don't talk to your brother like that, he's trying his very best to keep you safe–"
"And alive," Jo bit out rolling her eyes as she stepped back into the room journal in hand. At that comment Dean glared even more at Sam, who winced in apology because Dean knew the main reason he hadn't wanted the Harvelle's to know about his deal was, 1. Dean didn't want anyone to know. 2. They'd get all pitying. 3. Ellen would become a giant mother hen. And 4. Jo would undoubtedly get on Dean's case about it. And cry. And make him feel guilty about everything.
"Please believe me when I say I didn't mean to betray you, Dean. I was angry at myself for not having found a way out of this deal, when I'd promised you I would. I just needed to tell someone, I needed help Dean,"
When Dean said nothing, deliberately ignoring Sam and the Harvelle's and looking out of the window, Ellen huffed and said, "Dean Winchester you know your brother loves you, so don't make this any harder on him than necessary."
Dean's glare, Sam noted thankfully softened a little at Ellen's words, but he could tell Dean didn't completely believe that Sam had just needed help. However Dean seemed to have marginally forgiven Sam, Sam who swore that not only would he save Dean from this fate, but also convince his big brother that he really, truly loved him. Never again would he hurt Dean like this.
"So," Sam said into the silence. He gained Dean's attention, his green eyes flicked to watch Sam as he leant forwards, bracing his arms on the table. "Do you want to talk about what happened? About before when I was trying to stop you from leaving, before you went to our room?"
Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam huffed.
"What, have you gone mute or something with that blow to the head? I knock something important loose?" The dig got the desired effect, Dean's eyes narrowed and he growled:
"Fuck off, you little twerp, you hit like a girl."
"Hey I'm way taller than you and man you went down like a sack o' potatoes." Sam laughed, Ellen rolling her eyes at the exchange.
"Bitch," Dean pouted, eyes squinting.
"Jerk,"
"Boys," Ellen rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if to say: please god, help me, and Jo laughed, from across the bar where she was grabbing a chair to pull up so she could sit next to the group.
"Sorry," Sam murmured, mouth twitching. "So are you gonna explain what happened then?" Sam pushed.
"Pushy, pushy," Dean muttered to himself and then sighed, "Only if you take these things off me," He said, jerking his head back to indicate the handcuffs around his wrists. Sam nodded, albeit a little suspiciously and flicked a look at Jo, who said: "Sure," before pulling out the little key from her jeans pocket.
Dean rubbed his wrists, wincing at the strain that his ribs had endured with his arms being pulled behind his back. He tried not to frown at the intense scrutiny he was being subjected to by Sam and the Harvelle's and eventually leant back against the soft, red leather of the chair. Head titled back he sighed, deeply and long before saying, somewhat grudgingly: "Gopher dust, just get the fucking gopher dust."
Ellen frowned.
Jo privately wondered what the hell was going on.
Sam blinked.
"Fuck." Sam said and turned away, running presumably to their room to get their stash of the power, while Jo and Ellen stood lost in the middle of the room, both wearing identical expressions of complete confusion. With Sam out of the room, Dean stalked to the door, throwing it open to stare at the road searching for the hell hound.
The thing was still there, by the fucking impala.
"You piss on my car I'm gonna slaughter you, you fucking mongrel!" Dean yelled giving it the finger and smiling in satisfaction when it seemed to raise its hackles in annoyance. It turned tail to walk down the road, its gait betraying its supernatural origins; it didn't walk like a normal wolf or dog, it seemed to flow, each step it took was fluid, and sinewy, graceful to the point where it looked as if it was floating rather than running. "Yeah you better run bastard!" Dean yelled again for good measure, watching it until it disappeared into nothing. Gone back to its bitch of a mistress probably.
"Dean, I got it," Sam said to his right – when the hell had he gotten back – and passed him one of the bags of the reddish dust.
"Doors and windows," Dean murmured not looking at his brother, and bent to make a line in front of the door. "Do the whole place, can't have it getting in."
"Sure,"
"Hold up," Ellen said loudly cutting Dean off in his ministrations, "You are gonna tell me what the hell all that was before you start laying down a loada shit on my nice clean floors!"
"Sorry Ellen, no can do, my being here's brought some bad stuff down on you and I can't let it in," Dean said over his shoulder, continuing laying down the gopher dust.
"Now hold on I've had this place blessed and charmed and had sigils, sigils fucking engraved into the doors and window frames. Nothing evil's getting in here,"
"Hate to break it to you, but it was in here,"
"And what exactly is 'it'?" Jo asked from beside her mother, "Because I didn't see anything, Mom didn't see anything, and I'd bet my life that Sam didn't see anything so–"
"Jo," Ellen said sharply.
"What exactly is going on, huh Mom? Sam, Dean? Mind telling me, cos I sure as hell have no idea." Jo said, slamming a bottle of whiskey down onto the bar. Dean looked up, saw Ellen sat on the bar, Jo pouring out shots, and Sam across the room, expression dark and haunted before he fled to secure the rest of the Roadhouse.
Dean sighed, finishing pouring the bag of dust in front of the last window in the main bar. Then he walked over to the door, and flipped the sign to closed. He stared at the wood, stared at the grains and just wished that this wasn't happening. Then he turned around, walked up to the bar and grabbed one of the shot glasses. He downed it, relishing in the sharp burn.
"I get that you're angry at me Jo," He began but she snorted,
"That's gotta be the fucking understatement of the century."
Dean sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes and turned away, missing the way Jo's eyes softened at the last minute.
"It was a hell hound."
"So you could actually see it?" Sam asked worriedly.
"Yeah, guess its just because I'm almost gone, you know? 'Cos I've almost passed over. Eh, I don't know."
"No, I understand, yeah. So what happened?" Sam replied leaning forwards in his seat to look at his brother.
"The hell hound was over by the door. I felt it touch me when you grabbed me Sam,"
Sam nodded because that explained why Dean had been looking at the floor, but Dean could tell that something else had dawned on him, "So why did you look so freaked out when you looked at me?" His eyebrows were drawn up and together, betraying his confusion.
Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Wasn't Sam supposed to already know this? He didn't want to tell Sam about the hallucinations and looked up about to tell him it was nothing, the hell hound again when low and behold the hallucinations had started up again.
"Shit," He swore and the three things leant in towards him, mouths gaping wide and thousands of needle-like teeth glinted in the light, eyes – this time white – rolled and roved around in their skulls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this, he pushed up out of his chair and stumbled across the room, keeping his eyes on the things as they moved towards him slowly. When his back hit the wall he closed his eyes, as tightly shut as he could and his hands were clamped over his ears to keep out the sound of the groaning and the shuffling of the things as he slid to the floor. "Shut up, shut up goddammit!" He growled. His hands ached to grab the knife in his boots and when he felt his hand moving towards his ankle, he slammed his fist back into the wall, three times, ignoring the stabbing pain."Fuck, not real, not real," He murmured and concentrated on taking deep breaths and keeping that knife out of his hands. He flinched at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder and Dean looked up to find his brother hovering unsurely over his prone form, a look of such concern in his eyes that it made him want to cry.
But Dean Winchester did not cry.
And with that notion, he smiled a little weakly at Sam, apologetically at his display of weakness, flushing somewhat, "Um...help me up," He said, reaching out and when Sam did nothing but grip his shoulder tightly he said again, "Help me up Sammy,"
Sam grabbed his offered hand this time, hauling him to his feet and swept him into a bear hug.
"Stop scaring me like this Dean," He murmured into the top of Dean's head.
"Sorry," Dean mumbled into Sam's chest, allowing the hug to continue. For Sam of course.
After a moment Sam let Dean go, holding him at arm's length and scrutinised him deeply. Dean rolled his eyes and gestured for them to go and sit with the women again and when Sam didn't move, Dean grabbed his sleeve and tugged.
Seated in front of a mighty concerned Ellen and downright pissed off Jo was nothing he couldn't deal with, except if they did that thing with their eyes again, when they rolled up and around, he might just wig out.
"You okay Dean?" Ellen asked, reaching across the table to grip Dean's wrist, offering what little comfort she could. Dean mustered up a tight smile.
"Yeah, Ellen, I'm okay." He lied glibly.
"Well, I'm not," Jo said, "What the hell was that Dean, you were terrified," Her harshness and blank voice, Dean supposed was due to her anger at Dean.
"Joanna," Ellen admonished under her breath, elbowing her daughter sharply. Dean watched as Jo elbowed her mother back and glared. There was a moments silence and then Sam shifted in his seat, turning slightly towards Dean, and Dean knew he was about to start up with the questions.
"So," Sam began, again, not even trying to hide the fact that he was prying still. And Dean was just sick of all this skirting around the issue, so Sam's mouth was wide open when Dean began to talk out of the blue.
"It is part and parcel of making a deal Sam, I thought you knew that," Dean said cutting his brother off suddenly, sharply.
Sam shut his mouth with an audible snap. He looked genuinely baffled, having no clue what Dean was talking about. When it seemed his brother still wasn't getting it he said – the heel of his hand pressing hard into his eyes – somewhat embarrassed and self-conscious at the fact he would have to admit his weakness to him.
"Hallucinations Sammy," His tone was harsh as if to say, what are you gonna say about it? And why did you have to make me tell you?
"What do you mean 'hallucinations' Dean, that's pretty vague,"
"Not really. It's all in the name Sam. Ha-llu-cin-ation. Pretty self-explanatory."
"No Dean, I don't think it really is. What are you seeing things –"
"Duh," Dean cut in rolling his eyes upwards at Sam's apparent inability to understand what hallucination actually meant. Of course he was seeing things. Idiot.
" –like in the room with us?" Sam continued speaking right over Dean, eyebrow quirked in frustration. But his forehead was still furrowed betraying his worry.
"Stop frowning so much, dude you'll get wrinkles," He muttered. Then when Sam looked as if he was getting angry with Dean shirking around the issue he said bluntly: "It's you. You three actually," He stopped talking and mock glared, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, "You with your twisty faces and crispy skin, and swirly eyes...creeping the hell outta me. You hear that you three? Creeps the lot o' ya."
There was a beat of silence.
"I don't understand," Jo said finally.
"Me neither," Sam replied, eyes narrowed.
"What's there to understand Sam? Almost every time I look at you, your face twists and changes into something which all my hunting instincts scream at me to kill. Do you understand now?"
Ellen was watching Dean with anguished eyes still, and he couldn't take the look of pity so he stood up, suddenly, and turned away, walking towards one of the windows. He stared out at the road, eyes narrowing when he saw the hell hound back at the bottom of the road, pacing.
"Dean, how long has this been going on, honey?" Ellen said across the silence.
"I've been hearing the hell hounds for a couple of weeks," he said. Sam inhaled at his admission but he carried on, knowing that if he stopped that he wouldn't tell them anything. But then again, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. "But the hallucinations? They just started today."
"Can we stop it? Can we break the deal?" Jo asked, and it was the tone of her voice that made Dean finally look at her. She had been crying, that much Dean could tell, and her eyes betrayed the fact that she wanted to carry on crying.
"No." Dean said, finally coming to terms with the realisation. Sam's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes teared up Dean's admission that he didn't think Sam could save him from going to hell. "No you can't stop it."
A/N: Whoop, whoop! Glad this one is out. By far I think this has been my favourite chapter so far. Anyway, I don't have much planned for the next chapter, so gimme some ideas peoples!!! I've only got a few vague ideas, so I need some suggestions of what you'd like to see (that is if you want more of course! Meep!) Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought of it! Thanks!!!