The Georgia Incident.

After the anger and emotional upheaval of the siren incident, the brothers visit an old friend recently relocated to Georgia, in the hopes of gaining some perspective. They gain far more than they bargained for... Spoilers up to and including 4/14

Power is an intoxicating poison...

Chapter 1

As always, the brothers drove. They had no real destination. Each was engrossed in thought, in a turmoil of emotion; doubt, and anger, and a hundred other nameless miseries. A lot had been said, in the past days. And as hard as they both protested afterward, they had meant every damned ugly word. It didn't matter what had lit the fuse for the situation...it could have been anything. But this latest thing had lifted the veil momentarily, and some harsh and bitter things were left to squirm under the light. Neither could back-pedal from what was so painfully and sharply exposed. They'd dredged up feelings and resentments that had been repressed, and kept contained for the greater good. Some of those wounds were fresh, and others, it seemed, had festered for years. The catalyst for the arguments may have been beyond their control, but the result was crystal clear. They had issues...major issues, between them. And neither knew how to deal with them right now without coming to blows.

Dean hardly saw the lines on the pavement. All he could think of was, thank god Bobby had shown up. The ache in his arm reinforced that...the dagger wound screamed that if he hadn't come, once again as their eleventh hour saviour, Sam would have had his head cleaved in two by Dean's own hand. Instead, here they were; alive, thank god, and struggling to cope with this new and unwelcome development. As if it weren't complicated enough...

The drive was miserable, and pointless, really. It felt like they were fleeing, and that what they fled from remained a tangible presence between them, no matter how many miles of road passed under the wheels. It usually helped Dean sort things out, his time in the Impala. But it had lost that soothing quality now, when he needed it most. He was desperate for a distraction, because the alternative was a hurt and angry silence for hours on end.

Dean made an executive decision. Their good friend, David Bowman, had recently moved, and had taken a senior surgeon position at a prominent Georgia teaching hospital. It was a big change for him; an upward career move, certainly, and he was apparently more than a little lonely, as he'd been inviting the brothers on a weekly basis since his move from the midwest. Dean had declined repeatedly, always choosing the current crisis over that indulgence, but now he felt he could use some connection with a friendly, non-judging compatriot. This time, when David wheedled, he agreed to come out.

David Bowman hung up after his invitation was accepted, delighted that he would see his friends again. It had been a long time...too long. He was more than relieved that his professional skills had not been needed by either of them lately; their luck in that regard seemed to be holding. But he missed their visits. There was always an endlessly fascinating source of discussion when they were around, and while he loved and appreciated his safe, normal world, he was no stranger now to the other side, and Dean in particular was a wealth of anecdotes and knowledge when it came to the realm that existed beyond the normal.

And he worried for them. He always would. But there seemed to be an edge of something; some tension, or unhappiness, to Dean's voice lately. He wanted to draw that out of him, as only he could.

David was in the loop now, about the boys' full story. Between Ellen, and Bobby Singer, and what he'd heard from Dean himself, David was aware of the nature of their primary battle now. He was in no way equipped to aid them with that, but they knew that he stood at the ready to mend them if ever they were harmed in the course of their struggles. And he spent more time in the local church than he had ever done before, which surprised even him. After all, it wasn't just a Winchester battle now, it was one that affected the whole of humanity. But for his own sanity, or peace of mind, he kept that knowledge pushed far away on a back-burner. Otherwise, it was impossibly hard to concentrate on the mundane facets of everyday life under those circumstances.

He set aside those thoughts and threw himself into making his new home guest-friendly. Ellen hadn't been by in a while; he was still trying to convince her to abandon her gritty life and come join him here, but so far he hadn't been persuasive enough so it had degenerated a little into the frat-house look again. He glanced around, assessing each room with a critical eye. His laundry; both clean and otherwise, was scattered around the living room. The kitchen was a disaster. The damned dog had left shreds of rawhide chews and stuffed-animal carnage all over the carpet. But most importantly, there was little to nothing in the fridge, for either eating or drinking. That was the most unforgivable of his sins. He knew the brothers were not going to be picky about his lack of house-keeping skills, but to be out of beer and snackfood pushed the limits of friendship. He grabbed his wallet and went out to remedy it.

As soon as he'd made the decision, Dean felt better. Dr. David Bowman always had a way of putting things in perspective, without being critical. He needed that now, above all else. Unfortunately, Sam was not so convinced.

"Tell me again why we have to do this now?" he demanded, an edge of irritation shading his voice.

Dean sighed. "For the tenth time, Sammy; David's been bugging us to come out ever since he moved. I think we owe him a visit by now, after all he's done for us."

"You mean all he's done for you."

Dean turned to him with a look of disgust. "Oh that's a new one! You don't think David's done enough for you to earn a stupid quick visit?"

Sam turned away. "I'm just saying-"

"What? Exactly what are you just saying here, Sam?" You benefited from his help too! I can think of more than one time he patched holes in your hide! And yeah; maybe he did fix me up more than he did you! That's because it's always me in the line of fire, saving your sorry ass!"

Sam was not in a mood to accept such a broad and condemning statement. "Well maybe if you weren't so freaking inept, he wouldn't have to!"

"Excuse me?" Dean demanded, incredulous. "Oh, tell me you did not just say that!"

Sam instantly regretted his words. He hadn't meant that. But he'd said it just the same, and there was no turning back. "Dean; look, all I'm saying is that this side trip is a waste of time right now. We have to stop the next seal from being broken! That's more important than this little social call you decided we're going on."

Dean gripped the wheel hard, his knuckles turning white with his anger. "The seal. Ok, fine; just how are we supposed to do that? Do you even know what it is? Do you know where? Your little demon-whore hasn't shown her skanky face around here to tell us that, has she? So unless you have some sort of insider information, you can just sit there and shut your pie hole until we get to David's!" He floored it angrily, hardly realizing he'd done so.

Sam leapt to Ruby's defense. "Dean, don't call her that, ok? If you want to talk about who's saved who's hide lately, you better remember how many times she's pulled you away from the brink!"

Dean couldn't argue with the facts behind that. He just didn't know why. "Yeah, fine, whatever! But that was just to serve her own purpose, though, wasn't it? And as far as I'm concerned we don't know what the hell she wants out of all of this!"

Sam rolled his eyes and swore. "Dean, why can't you just take a good thing at face value? You always have to analyze the source, and try to qualify it! Ruby wants exactly what she said she wants; to defeat Lilith! We don't need to know any more than that, because it's what we all want, and she's been nothing but consistent and helpful."

"Everybody who ever had some huge, self-serving agenda throughout history had those same qualities! Don't be so freaking naive! You know; just because a chick will lay down with you, doesn't make her a damned saint! Get your head out of her pants and smarten up!"

"Dean!" Sam was beyond speech for a moment, his frustration and fury threatening to push him to do Dean some real damage. He finally quelled the urge to deck his older brother. "Just...shut up, and don't talk to me about her anymore!"

Dean was silent, fuming for some time. They would never agree on that particularly acrimonious subject. Dean had nothing more to say on that; his position was as clear as day. Sam was equally closed mouthed. There was no point in going over this same scorched earth. They would not find common ground here. They continued the drive in bitter silence.

The sky had grown steadily darker as they drove, and the looming threat of rain became reality. It started as a weak drizzle, hardly enough to wet the surface for the wipers, and the squeak they made against the glass was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Sam. But it quickly deteriorated into a pelting grey wall of cold water, and visibility was poor. They had passed through miles of pecan trees and neat little towns, and were surrounded now by mixed forest and fields. The road was all but empty[ it's surface washed by wind-driven gusts of drizzle. If the mood hadn't already been sour in the car, it certainly would have been after hours of those conditions.

Sam had been silent, but his frustration was building to the boiling point. He was just as bitterly unhappy about the state of their relationship as Dean was, but he had to push that away, as there were bigger things to lose sleep over. He wasn't choosing to be in what he felt was now the driver's seat; Dean had always occupied that more than adequately. But things were different now. Sam knew he was at the centre of a maelstrom that was still unknown to them. He had powers that Dean could not begin to understand, and he knew they were integral to this fight. He also knew that what Dean didn't understand, he feared. If his fear caused him to stand in the way, then he would become a liability rather than an ally, and Sam was afraid to think of how he would have to neutralize him so that he could fight the battle without hindrance. Ruby was constantly in his ear about it-don't let him impede you-don't let him hold you back. She was helping him harness his gifts, but he also knew that her purpose was still under a shroud of mystery. Dean was right about that, there was no denying it. It just didn't matter at the moment. He sighed heavily. And what of Dean's destiny? That was another damned mystery. Hauled out from the pit by angels, for god's sake. They don't do that on a whim. How the hell did that fit into what he knew he had to do?

Dean drove like an automaton. He couldn't shake the words. They echoed through his head, refusing to quiet. -You're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself... Whining about all the souls you tortured in Hell. Boo-hoo- Sam had actually used the word whining. He had suffered the most terrifying and soul-destroying experience known to man, and when he turned to his brother to finally unburden some of that, he threw it back in his face as if it was a weakness. His throat tightened as he thought about it all again. Instead of comfort, he got humiliation. Sam's words were so marginalizing, so demeaning. It was as if everything Dean had suffered for him was shrugged off as nothing, and his return to the living was little more than an unwelcome complication. Welcome home, brother.

"Jesus, watch it!" Sam barked.

Dean snapped out of his bitter reverie, braking hard and swerving. The tires slewed, refusing to bite on the slick road. The source of the abrupt reaction was a deer; a young whitetail, which had bolted across the road. It was nearly invisible in the dim light of the rain; it's winter coat a much more anonymous shade than the warm red tone of summer. The Impala grill hit it squarely in a shower of metal bits and headlight glass, a solid thump that was unmistakable. The doe skidded sideways for a moment, then struggled up to its feet and bolted into the ditch. It collapsed there, in the tall weeds. Dean ground the car to a halt at the roadside, shaken to his core. Sam swore, and held his hand to his nose, which had struck the dash with enough force to cause an instant rush of blood. Neither said a word. They sat in shocked silence, absorbing what had just happened. Dean breathed rapidly, staring straight ahead as his shaking hands clenched and unclenched on the wheel. He fought the urge to lean over and retch. After a moment or two, he gained enough control to throw the door open, and he stalked out into the rain to check on the injured animal.

He stood in the wet ditch, not noticing as muddy rainwater flowed over his boots. The doe lay on her side, panting with difficulty, and wall-eyed with terror. It was pure adrenalin that got her off the road; she had a shattered foreleg, and her belly was torn wide. It was a lethal hit, but she was still suffering, struggling to rise even as her life drained from her.

Sam joined Dean where he stood, and he too stared at the poor creature. "Do you want me to put her down?" he asked.

Dean turned to him and snarled a curse. "Go to hell!" He moved away and stood over her as he drew his handgun, holding it until his trembling hand steadied and his aim was perfect. He pulled the trigger, and her pain and fear ended instantly. Looking around, he found a small stone, and he gently closed her wide, staring brown eye, placing the pebble on her lid to keep it so. He didn't look at his brother, he just pushed past him and climbed back up the embankment without so much as a glance at the damage to the blood-spattered front end. He sat, wiping the water from his face and sluicing the rain angrily from his hair

Sam climbed in beside him. "I can drive if you want, if you're still shaky." he offered.

Dean turned to him, his expression screamed volumes. "I'm fine." he growled coldly. "Don't worry yourself."

Sam said nothing. Dean drove the car away from the gravel, slowly at first, to be sure there was no mechanical problem as a result of the impact. But the Impala was sound; its damage merely cosmetic. Silence reigned once again for a few miles.

Sam finally broke it. "Dean...there was really nothing you could have done, she came out of no where-"

Dean's expression hardened, but he kept his eyes staring straight ahead. "Wow." He smiled acidly. "Thanks, Sam...can't tell you how much that means. That just changes everything."

Sam gave up and put his head back, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The grim mood in the car continued, and they retreated to their angry shells until the weather finally broke and the sun began to pierce the pall of damp that had shrouded it for the last hundred miles of travel.

Dean tried to shrug off the scene they'd left behind. The doe was beautiful, and if he'd paid attention, she'd be running in the field right now; scared shitless but healthy and wiser for the experience. He'd never seen one up close, and he was wracked with guilt at causing her ugly demise. He sighed, and his mind returned to the things Sam had said. He wanted to address those statements. But even more, he didn't want to. -why twist the knife-he thought. -won't change anything, can't undo this.- But there was also the other matter; the affront regarding his superiority as a hunter. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even his superiority that Sam had questioned, it was his very adequacy. And that could not go unanswered. He was in a brutal mood anyway, so he opened up the can of worms.

"Listen; we need to get this out of the way before we see David. I want to know how the hell you think you're a better hunter than I am, and why you said the rest of that shit!"

Sam groaned. "Not now, Dean. We were pissed off, we were under a spell-"

"Doesn't mean shit, Sammy. You said alot of things, I think you need to explain it!"

Sam sighed and turned to him. "Do you really want to go there, Dean? Because I did mean it, at least some of it. You are standing in the way of my growth, and that's going to cost our lives, and maybe everybody's-"

"Growth? You call that growth? That's not growth, Sam, that's ruin! Without me keeping you away from that, you'd be in the pit before you could blink! You have no idea what you're dealing with, but what's even more dangerous is the fact that you think you do! You can't see sense; your brain is so clouded with the crap that demon skank's been hand-feeding you! You're like this megalomaniac, you think you're the freaking Second Coming or something!"

''Oh my god, you're arrogant!" Sam shouted. You can't see you're in over your head now! And that maybe-"

"Maybe what? Maybe you should take on the underworld on your own? You wouldn't last five seconds away from me!"

It was too much for the younger hunter. "You know, Dean; I don't actually have to stay tied to you! Just because we have been doesn't mean we need to for the rest of our lives! We actually can exist separately; hell, maybe we'd be better off!"

It was escalating, but neither was ready to put the brakes to it. "Well, I sure as hell would be! " Dean snorted. "I might go through a month without needing five pints of blood for the first time! You, on the other hand, would be a nasty headline in some local rag within a week!"

Sam swore at that. "You still don't get it! I have to spell it out for, is that it? I...Don't...Need...You! I know what I'm doing, and you still have no freaking clue how to deal with all this! Ruby will help me finish this, as long as you aren't standing in the way all the time! I don't know why I'm even here in this damn car right now when I should be working to try to save us all! You're the problem here, not me!"

Dean stared at him, incredulous and filled with fury. "I'm the problem? Well here's a little history re-cap for you, Sam! I'm the one hauled out of the ground by the will of God, and you're just screwed up little Demon-Boy! I think the problem is pretty damned clear! And it's pretty obvious who's gonna be the solution, too!"

Sam shook his head, eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You really still think that, don't you, Dean? You treat me like the little burden you've hauled around forever, who'd just shrivel up and die if it weren't for you running the show! You know what? Just let me off in the nearest town, and we'll both be happy!"

Dean mocked him. "..Aw, you want to run away from home, do you? Hey, go for it Sammy. Why don't you just get in your car, grab your sack of cash and get the hell out! Oh, wait a minute; you don't have wheels! And shit; no money, no job...hmm, shoot, now what?"

"Money and wheels will be easy! And so will everything else, once you're not hanging around my neck like dead weight! God, I could finally breathe!"

"Ok, that's it!" Dean stomped the brakes and pulled over to the roadside in a cloud of dust. "You and me are gonna come to an understanding! Get the hell out of my car!"