Work Text
0 - Dean
“Well, I’m just spit-balling here, but if I were you, uh... Ruby, killing Lilith, letting Lucifer out, losing your soul, not looking for me when I went to Purgatory, for starters.”
Dean’s list isn’t short. And Sam knows that’s the whole point—there’s no point in pretending it all didn’t happen, not if this is going to work—but hearing it all laid out like that so frankly, so quickly , stings. He tried eliminating pride from his vocabulary a long time ago, but it lingers within him, an inky blot that will not vanish no matter how hard he scrubs. So even though he’s tried to move past, to rise above, hearing Dean blithely toss out all his failings without hesitation hurts. It hurts because he’s tried so long and so hard to be better... and just isn’t.So, thoroughly cowed, Sam takes Dean’s list with him into the church. He kneels in the confessional with the list in mind. But he doesn’t start where Dean did. If he’s being honest, Dean was being downright generous starting with Ruby. But Sam knows better.“Okay, um...” He clears his throat but it does him no good. This’ll hurt either way. “If anybody’s listening, here goes.”*~*
1 - Mary
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was... I’m not sure. Years. Years ago. I’m actually in churches all the time, but I never... Anyway.
“I’m guessing I should go in order, so there’s really only one place to start.
“When I was six months old, I got my mother killed.”
It starts immediately after the first dose, the burning under Sam’s skin—purification. It’s a little sick how much he enjoys it, but the pain turns his doubt to ashes. He hasn’t felt this faithful in a long time. Maybe he can pull this off without Dean standing over his shoulder after all.Crowley is unimpressed, of course. Sam’s sure he’ll change his tune before long, but at the moment, he can’t stand the whining. Maybe it’s unwise considering what happened with Abaddon, but he leaves Crowley alone in the devil’s trap and steps outside to think.There’s a rough beauty to the marsh but the smell is horrendous, the stench of rotten eggs stinging his nose the moment he exits the church. Strangely, though, the sulfurous breeze invigorates him. After all, once the gates of Hell were closed, such acrid aromas would never again be omens of demonic activity. Instead, there would be perfectly mundane explanations for them, like cracked produce left on a counter overnight or a spill in a lab—or the natural stink of healthy wetlands.Sam takes a deep breath, memorizing the scent. This is the last thing some people ever smelled. He’s lucky to have a view.*~*
2 - Jessica
“Jessica was a mistake.
“Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit. A mistake makes it sound like an accident, like it could have happened to anyone. But even before I started having dreams about her death, I knew someone like me shouldn’t get close to people. I knew the risks and I did it anyway and that got her killed.
“I’ve always been selfish. I try so, so hard not to be, but being away from Dad and Dean, it was like a switch went off in my head and I didn’t have to try so hard anymore. It’s awful, but I think that’s what I loved most about her. That she was mine for no other reason than I wanted to be with her.
“...That’s not the whole truth, though, is it? That’s not the biggest reason. Even if Brady... the demon in Brady hadn’t introduced us, I would have been drawn to her.
“Because of who she reminded me of.”
The second injection goes as smoothly as the first. Unfortunately, Crowley remains equally chatty.“Ah, Moose. I was beginning to think you’d left me here all by my lonesome,” the demon says. “Bad form, leaving the bride waiting at the altar for so long.”Sam wrenches Crowley’s head to the side. “In your dreams,” he says, sinking the needle deep into his neck. Crowley swears and jerks, nearly breaking off the needlepoint in the process.“Lucky size doesn’t count for everything, little prick.” Crowley snarks as Sam steps away. “Speaking of size, I haven’t seen your more compact counterpart in a while. Don’t tell me big brother didn’t want front seats to this farce?”“He’s not the one you need to worry about,” Sam threatens. A split second too late he realizes he shouldn’t have answered at all as Crowley lets loose with a dry chuckle.“Ahh, so he has taken off,” Crowley says. “Family not approve of the union? And it’s such a beautiful ceremony, what with the needles and the blood. Though, if I’m honest, the decor’s a little lacking, darling.”“He’ll be along,” Sam replies shortly. “Of course, I didn’t hear the horrendous metal monstrosity turn over, so that must mean he took a more eco-friendly method. Angel Airways, perhaps?”This time, Sam doesn’t answer, silently walking out of the church to sit on the outside steps. The view’s spoiled but at least the smell has gotten a little better. Or maybe he’s just getting used to it.*~*
3 - John
“I never honored my father. Not while he was alive, anyway. We fought all the time. He was only doing his best, but I didn’t see that. I didn’t want to see that. All I wanted was a normal family, a normal life, and he couldn’t give that to me, so I hated him for it.
“I understood eventually, but by then it was too late. The last thing he said to me was that he didn’t want us to fight. If we’d had more time, maybe we could have... but we didn’t.
“I tried to take up the job after he was gone, really throw myself into it, but truth be told, I always had one foot out the door. Living this way scares me. What it’s done to me—what it’s still doing to me—scares me. And I keep trying to run away even when I know I can’t, and I think he’d be ashamed of me for that.
“He was frightened of what the demon blood might do to me, but if he even knew half of what was wrong with me... I know he’d be ashamed. Sometimes I wish he had just killed me himself instead of asking Dean to do it. Would have saved us all a lot of trouble.
“I miss him.”
“That hurt?” Crowley asks as the glow flashes along Sam’s forearms. “Being cooked from the inside like that?”“What do you care?” Sam snaps, irritated that he almost dropped the needle. He has spares, but still. He’ll need to keep an eye out for the trembling. Wouldn’t do to screw this all up because he couldn’t he couldn’t keep his hands steady. What would Dean think?“I don’t really,” Crowley drawls. “But surely it can’t be worth it, considering.” Sam measures out the next dose, ignoring him. “You can’t hide from me, Moose. You’re looking a bit... pale. There’s a reason bloodletting went out of fashion last century. It’s not too late for us to work things out, you know. Save ourselves a lot of needless anguish.”The needle goes in. Sam smiles grimly as he depresses the plunger. “We are so beyond working things out, Crowley.”Crowley hisses as the needle comes out. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one! Turns out you’re more hair than brains after all.”“Sounds like you’re the one hurting, Crowley,” Sam taunts. “You sure you don’t feel anything?”“Of course I feel something!” he exclaims. “An enormous amount of vexation for being forced to participate in this astronomical waste of time! You can’t cure a species, you massive pillock! And I can’t wait to see you bleed yourself dry trying to prove otherwise, you Nick Bottom-headed excuse for a hunter!”“See you in an hour,” Sam says, retreating outside once more as Crowley curses him, his family, and his profession in increasingly colorful language. While Crowley may not be regaining his humanity, he’s certainly losing his patience, and Sam can’t help but be pleased by his progress, superficial though it may be. Dean has nothing to worry about. He’s got everything perfectly handled.*~*
4 - Ruby
“After Dean died, my biggest failure wasn’t giving in to Ruby. Ruby was just a symptom. The problem was me. I was weak. I tried to explain to him that I wasn’t okay, that I wouldn’t be okay when he was gone, but he didn’t believe me. He talked me up like I was stronger than him, when the truth was I would have died without her.
“It still makes me sick, thinking about it sometimes. How much I needed her. How easily she talked me into the blood. The sex. She played me and I let her, and she didn’t even have to work for it. Read me like an open book, right from the start.
“All she had to do was sound like him and...
“I’m ashamed, but it was so, so good.” Crowley bites him.Sam cleans himself up with the first aid kit in the Impala. It’s a bitch and a half without help, but it’s not the first time he’s had to wrap a bandage one-handed so he manages. When the dressing is tightly secured, he lays down in the backseat, legs hanging out the door, and stares at the roof of the car, cradling his arm. Dean’s going to laugh at him when he gets back.It’s really not all that funny. Human bites can easily become infected—even more easily than dog bites, in fact—and who knows what side effects come when a demon is doing the biting? He may lose the whole arm. He could die.For some reason, that makes him laugh. He rolls onto his side and laughs so hard that he almost makes himself sick. As he coughs his way through the final throes of hysteria, he checks for blood and is surprised to find none; only a long smear of spittle across his chin, which he wipes off. Maybe it’s good Dean’s not here after all. Talk about embarrassing.He doesn’t move an inch until it’s time to ready the next dose. His nausea never quite goes away.*~*
5 - Lilith
“When I killed Lilith, I felt... triumphant. Untouchable. Righteous. And worst of all, I thought Dean would be grateful. He’d realize he was wrong about everything, apologize for what he said, and then...
“I was so delusional. And I can’t blame it on Ruby or the demon blood. It was me. It was all me. I loved killing her, enjoyed killing her, because I knew at that moment it would get me everything I wanted.
“But I only ever wanted one thing.
“When Dean came through that door, I was sure he could see it on my face. That he knew exactly what I was thinking. I couldn’t believe it when he didn’t kill me. Still can’t believe it, actually. I wonder what changed his mind.”
Crowley’s strangely quiet for injection number five. Sam’s too tired to think much of it.After it’s done, he investigates the sacristy behind the sanctuary instead of ducking outside. The door is locked, and Crowley snorts at his attempts at getting it open. Every kick leveled against the rickety door leaves him winded, and what should have taken maybe one or two tries takes half a dozen. But eventually, the door gives way, awash with poof of dust as it swings open.The inside is small and dark, and there’s not much to see: a pile of moth-eaten linens, probably intended for the altar, tarnished candlesticks, and a faded stole, the colors washed out and the hems unraveling. It’s not even folded.He wastes time poking through drawers and mindlessly tidying up, though it’s clear he’s the only one who’s made any use of the room, hell, the entire church, in at least a decade. The whole place was left to rot. His hope briefly rises when he finds a large leather-bound book tucked away in a drawer, but cracking it open only leads to further disappointment. He quickly deduces it’s meant to be a registry (for Our Lady the Redeemer Catholic Church, he discovers; if there was ever a sign out front, it’s long gone by now), but there are only a handful of entries. Father—he checks the inside cover—Joseph Williams apparently didn’t have much of a congregation.Why even build a church out in the middle of nowhere? Sam wonders. There was no evidence of an old township or burg on the drive up. Maybe a few houses scattered here or there along the way, but that was all (it’s why they chose the church to begin with). Certainly not enough to justify the expense of paving the lot. Why bother? And what brought Father Williams to such an isolated spot, only for him to abandon it? While small, it was a quaint enough property. Maybe even beautiful once. But now it was hollow. Rotten.Sam returns the book to its place and swiftly exits the sacristy. He doesn’t go in there again. *~*
6 - Lucifer
“I still think about... him all the time.
“Am I allowed to say his name here?
“He... Lucifer...”
...
“I’m sorry. I’m ready.
“I let him out. I didn’t know what I was doing but I still did it. And people died because of it. And I’m not just talking about Jo and Ellen. Everything that followed is on me. Everyone who died in the freak storms. All those townsfolk manipulated by War. Jody’s family. All of it. But I thought...
“I, um. I thought I’d paid for it. By putting Lucifer back in the cage with me inside, I mean. But I guess I was just running again, because it’s not like that undid anything, right? I didn’t actually fix anything other than letting him out in the first place. That would take a lifetime. I took a shortcut.
“I, uh. I still dream about it. I know Dean thinks I was cured or whatever after Cas did whatever he did in that psych ward, but the memories themselves never went away. It was more like he put up a wall, like Death did, but this one is transparent. I can see everything that happened, and I know it can’t touch me, but sometimes... Sometimes it’s hard to look away.
“I guess I’m trying to say I know it’s not enough. Everything Lucifer did to me, he did because he was pissed that I ruined his plans. That’s not justice. It wasn’t even real. I get that. Just, um.
“Please don’t put me back there.
“Sorry. That’s not why I’m here. Moving on.”
He almost doesn’t get up again after Abaddon sends him through the window. The stars swirl above him in splotchy, irregular nebulae (when did the sun go down?), and he’s content to lay upon the shattered glass and cold concrete and just watch because his thoughts are swirling up there, too. Heaven looks like this, he recalls.But he drags his ass up because he told Dean he’s got this, so he’s got this—so close to the finish line he can taste it. That his entire body feels like an overripe fruit about to burst open is secondary.Holy oil and a match sends the queen bitch packing. Long enough for him to do what needs doing, anyhow. Sam gets back down to business and, predictably, Crowley tries to manipulate the situation, blathering on about foxholes and HBO. Bullshit nonsense. Until it’s not.“Don’t we all—you, me—we deserve to be loved. I deserve to be loved! I just want to be loved,” the king of Hell implores.Sam stares. He’s not sure he’s heard those words in that order outside of saccharine Saturday morning specials. “What?”Even stranger than the words themselves are Crowley’s reaction to them. “What?” he parrots back. Then he frowns, looking around as if seeking out the source of the bizarre speech... only to realize that he’s been the culprit all along.“Do you really think that?” Sam asks, carefully studying his captive’s face. Crowley looks unnerved, something Sam didn’t think was possible for the salesman. Of course, demons are liars. He could be faking.“I... Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?” Crowley won’t meet his eyes. “None of us chose to be here. Should get something out of it.”“Yeah, that’s not what I asked,” Sam says, walking up to the edge of the devil’s trap. “Did. You. Mean it?”Crowley swallows, looks up, then looks away. “I... think so?” he says, more a question than confident reply. “Wouldn’t have said it otherwise, would I?”The uncertainty in Crowley’s voice is fascinating, like accidentally discovering a new species in your backyard. Sam’s sore in places he didn’t even know he had, but that suddenly doesn’t matter because Father Thompson’s cure is working. Which means the trials...Sam looks down at his arms as they flare. This time, he doesn’t even flinch. He embraces the burn all the way down the core of himself and redirects it out to every part of him. Holy fire scorches his veins. He’s so close. “Okay,” Sam says. He keeps his giddiness on lockdown. Can’t risk his eyes wandering from the prize at this stage. It’d be just his luck, tripping at the finish line. Dean would never forgive him. “Okay, then.” He nods at Crowley, suddenly compelled to offer the barest gesture of civility to his humanoid subject. “I’ll be back in an hour.”Crowley returns the nod, expression still too open and bewildered. Sam’s halfway out the door before he speaks again.“Do you think so?”“What?” Sam asks idly. His mind is already back in the Impala, taking inventory of whatever’s left in the first aid kit. He thinks there’s glass in his scalp.“That I... we deserve to be loved. All of us,” Crowley clarifies. He’s nervous but hides it poorly, gaze wandering and snapping back, reluctant to remain on target.There’s probably a right answer for this moment. Or, at least, one that would help him guide a corrupted soul more surely down the path of humanity.But Sam can’t say it. He’s not sure he believes it.“I’ll be back in an hour,” he says instead, gentling his voice as much as he’s able. He thinks Crowley might call after him but he pretends not to hear. There’s definitely glass in his hair. He should probably take care of that.*~*
7 - Robin
“A few years back, I shot a woman in cold blood. She was being held hostage by a demon, and instead of saving her, I killed her because it was more convenient. Her name was Robin, she lived in Jackson, Wyoming, and was a bartender. I’m, uh, not sure about any family. Don’t know if she had kids or... I don’t think I asked.
“I still don’t remember a lot about the year. I remember Robin, and I remember most of the cases I worked with the Campbells but some of it’s still fuzzy. Like it happened to somebody else.
“I’m not... I’m not trying to make excuses. I know it’s my responsibility, all of it. It’s just, uh, it’s funny. After I got back from the cage, when I started to remember, Dean was so insistent that it wasn’t me who did those things. He’d tell me over and over, ‘It wasn’t you, it wasn’t you.’ But it was my body, you know? I was soulless, not brainless. There’s something in me that made me think doing those things was okay. But Dean kept insisting...
“Um, but, it makes sense he said that back then. He didn’t want me remembering, afraid of what would happen if the wall came down. And he was right. When it came down it was... bad.
“Anyway, uh, it’s good he agrees with me after all. That’s... good.”
For the first time, Crowley doesn’t fight him. He takes the needle gracefully, only wincing slightly as it comes out. No sass, no biting. Just acceptance. It doesn’t feel like administering medicine or torture. It feels like baptism.Sam doesn’t leave. Instead, he sits, leaning back against the altar, awaiting the fire. It doesn’t take long, and after he abruptly realizes he can’t smell anything. It’s odd.“That hurt?” Crowley asks softly, genuine this time.Sam tilts his head back, eyes sliding shut. “In a good way,” he says, and Crowley hmms under his breath in assent. He rubs the tips of his fingers together, feeling they should blister from the burning, but the sensation there is distant, the sheltered touch of gloved hands against each other.“You were in there a long time,” Crowley says. When Sam cracks an eye open, he nods toward the confessional.“Yeah,” Sam says. “So?”“I suppose I just can’t imagine a goody two-shoes such as yourself having that much to confess,” he admits. “Or did you include every parking ticket?”Sam smiles and the stretch pulls at his skin, thin and fragile as tissue paper. “We all have things we’re not proud of.”“Of course,” Crowley confirms. “I know that. Better than anyone, I imagine. But what possibly could Sam Winchester—”“I’m a liar,” Sam interrupts. “A thief. A junkie. A... a misdemeanant.” He laughs. “A murderer.”There’s a pause.“A hunter,” Crowley corrects.Sam shakes his head. “Murderer.”Crowley pinches his lips together and Sam, a little proud, closes his eyes again. He may have actually shocked the king of Hell. That’s one for the history books.“I wouldn’t worry,” Crowley says. “If it’s a contest, I’m pretty sure I have a, ah, healthy lead.” He chuckles, the sound a touch wet. “I suppose... we’re both looking for forgiveness then.”“I suppose,” Sam agrees. But he’s not looking for forgiveness. He’s found it.He’s finally found it.*~*
8 - Dean
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been saying that a lot, but I haven’t been completely honest with why I’m here. I haven’t led an honest life. And there’s no one I can blame but myself, because I was given so many opportunities to choose the right path and didn’t because I thought I knew better. I’ve been selfish and arrogant, and it’s cost so many people their lives.
“But I’ve been able to move past most of those things. I’ve had to. Call it rationalization or compartmentalization or whatever, but it’s the only way to do this job. And believe me, I know it’s not healthy and backfired on me more than once, but I don’t know what else to do. Maybe it hasn’t worked well, but it has worked. But there’s something I’ve never been able to get over no matter how hard I’ve tried. It’s not a poison or a sickness. It’s worse than that. It’s... fundamental. Even more than the demon blood. Like I was born with it.
“Um, so, a while ago, Dean was taken from me. Not the first time, but this time I didn’t even try to get him back. I should have done everything in my power to get him out of that hellhole, but I didn’t because I was scared. I was alone and afraid of losing myself trying to get him back, so he was trapped in Purgatory for a year while I played house with a woman who deserved better than me.
“I don’t bring this up because what happened was unique. To tell the truth, it’s only my latest screw-up. Only this time he, uh, found someone. Someone he could rely on. Someone other than me.
“I don’t blame him. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs and I didn’t have his. But the fact that the person he looked to was a vampire ... How desperate was the situation that he had to resort to a monster for help? After everything Dean did to keep me from turning into one, and he had to... “I lost Dean’s trust a long time ago and not a damn thing I’ve done since has earned it back. He doesn’t even trust me to pull this off. But I will. I’ll do anything for him to trust me again. So that’s why I’m here. I let my brother down and I keep doing it over and over. And I need to make it right.
“I lost his trust, but the worst part is I never should have had it in the first place. Because I was born with something inside me that makes me look at my brother and want more than just his trust. His love.
“I want him. And I think part of me always has.
“That’s my greatest sin. I’ve disappointed him and think I always will because I can never get rid of... this.
“But maybe I can get him to forgive me.
“So, that’s it. I guess completing the trials will be my act of penance. I think I’m supposed to say an act of contrition now but I don’t know any. Sorry. Thank you for listening.
“Amen.”
Dean wants him to stop.Dean wants him to stop. Right now, Sam can’t feel much of anything. His ears are full of cotton, his vision blurring and sharpening like a broken telescope; not too long after the smell of sulfur and salt-battered wood disappeared, his sense of taste followed, and his tongue mindlessly chasing the taste of copper it cannot find. He clumsily puppeteers his body from a distance, with only the blissful agony of holy fire reminding him that this is all real and happening.But Dean appears before him in brilliant Technicolor and THX sound, bringing with him the crushing, strangely tangible feeling of despair.Dean wants him to stop because he’ll die. Sam can only give one reply: “So?”Death doesn’t scare him. It hasn’t for a long time, not just because he’s already died, but because there are fates worse than death and he’s experienced them ten times over. This time, though, is special. This time, his death will come with real, measurable benefits:Every demon on earth, banished. The end of demonic possessions and crossroad deals. No more hellhounds. No more black eyes.And best of all, no more looks of disappointment from Dean. Hell, he might even be proud of him.But Dean... Dean is stubborn. So Sam has to spell it out for him.“What happens when you’ve decided I can’t be trusted again?” he asks. He may be weeping, but if he is, the tears provide no relief from the heat building under his sin. “I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another—another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just—”“Hold on, hold on!” Dean interrupts. “You seriously think that?” And then he proceeds to completely shatter Sam’s world, because he almost makes it sound like—No. Dean doesn’t understand. How could he? He doesn’t know why Sam has to do this. What the fire’s doing to him. What he’s saving himself from.“I can’t,” Sam cries. “I can’t, you don’t know what I—”“Nothing, Sam,” Dean insists, taking a step closer. Sam inches away, hunting for a safe retreat like a panicked animal—but there’s nowhere to run, not this time. There’s only the trials or Dean. “Nothing I’d put in front of you, I mean it. There’s nothing—” “I want you!” Sam shouts.Dean freezes. That was the goal, but the shock on his brother’s face takes a stranglehold on Sam’s heart and squeezes. He’ll have to see it again after all: that look. The indignation, the disgust. The disappointment. He’d hoped that look was behind him, ideally forever, but now he gets to take it to the grave. At least now he knows for sure it’ll be the last time.“I want you,” he repeats and Dean flinches. “I’m not sure—I’m not sure when it started, but it feels like always. I’ve been running away from it most of my life, and I’ve tried to get rid of it, or—or replace it, but all that’s ever led to is me screwing things up for me, and—and for you, and for everyone else!”He’s shaking but he’s careful not to spill the blood in his hand. Then again, maybe he should; bleed himself again. Maybe one last confession will purify his blood even more.“I left Amelia for you,” he explains. “I’ll go down and take every evil sonova bitch I can with me for you. I’m not doing this for some noble purpose, Dean! I’m doing this so you can look me in the eye again and let me be your brother again because I can’t...” He bids his throat to swallow and miraculously it does, sending blood, mucus, and regret down his throat. “I can’t stand it when you push me away. But now I’ve gone and screwed that up, too, and I—I just want you to see me do this one thing right. And if I die doing it, it’s not too large a price to pay. It’s just not. Even if you can never look at me again.”The fire races down to his toes, dances behind his eyes, pools in his arms, his palms, his fingertips; rattling his ravaged nervous system in its impatience. Sam begs it to wait a moment. Just a moment more. Just until Dean understands. Then he can—Dean takes a step. Then another.“There is nothing,” he murmurs, “past or present, that I would put in front of you.”He slowly reaches out, telegraphing every movement. Sam flinches anyway when he touches his brow, pushing his hair behind his ear, and Sam somehow feels it, the gentle caress hotter even than divine flame.
“Nothing.”
Sam’s will shatters. The weight and responsibility of a thousand mistakes and regrets vanish, leaving him with overwhelming, sickening hope. Blood slips through his fingers, useless as a handful of pennies, and Sam begs, “How do I stop?”He’s not sure what he means. He’s not sure it matters. Nevertheless, Dean has the answer. He always does. “Just let it go.”He makes it sound so easy, but Sam’s tied to a wild horse, the reins are out of reach, and they’re rapidly heading for a cliff. But Dean binds his cut without an ounce of judgment, condemnation, or worry. Touches him without worry. “Hey, listen, we will figure it out, okay, just like we always do,” he soothes. Holds his hand, tilts down his face, and—And kisses his brow. His eyelids. The corner of his mouth. Absolution. Benediction. Hope. Dean kisses his hair, gathers him into his arms, and Sam is utterly lost.“Let it go, okay? Let it go, brother.”Sam does. The fire within him finally sputters and dies. Maybe something else followed. Maybe not. But he’ll take whatever remains. It’s more than he deserves. It’s all he needs. With it, he’ll have nothing left to confess.