Chapter Text
Sam Winchester was no coward. He had never turned from a fight, had never fled in fear. He’d always fought with every weapon he had, from his hands to his brain. When he faced Dean’s year-long death sentence of a deal, he attacked it as savagely as anything else that threatened his brother. As the day of damnation drew nearer, he scoured source after source, desperately seeking something, anything, that would clear Dean’s name.
So when the day finally dawned, as gray and bleak as it deserved to be, Sam did the only thing he could.
He grabbed his brother and ran.
He’d almost been a lawyer. He remembered trailing a lawyer in a court case one day for class, remembered what the lawyer had told his class after the judge had ruled in the lawyer’s favor. “Sometimes it’s not about persuading the jury or making a better case,” he’d said. “Sometimes it’s just about scaring the crap out of the other side. Figure out what scares them, and you’re likely to get what you want.”
He wasn’t a lawyer now, as far from a lawyer as he could get, but he still remembered what he’d learned. He figured it applied here as he’d sought the exact details to Dean’s ironclad contract. This was just the highest stakes case Sam could have ever tried to take on, and it was one he couldn’t lose.
Nothing else had panned out. Spells, amulets, goofer dust, living forever. He’d searched every source, had tried everything he could. But in the end, it was going to be an all or nothing, at the last minute, sort of save. If it worked at all.
Dean was quiet that afternoon, far from the freaked-out mess that Sam felt like. His older brother was clearly on edge, trying to convince himself it was going to be okay. Trying to accept his fate, and Sam wasn’t ready to do that. Not now, not ever.
Three solid knocks rattled the motel door, and Dean tensed, but Sam hurried to open it. Ruby’s blonde hair was tied back behind her shoulders. “Brought you some food,” Ruby said by means of a greeting. “Sam said your favorite pie came from a diner in New Hampshire.”
Dean’s eyes lit up in appreciation. No one said the phrase “last meal” but they didn’t need to. He took the box reverently and headed for the table.
That meant he missed the wooden box that Ruby handed Sam, along with a paper bag. She gave him a slow nod and left, tossing a, “Call me when you need me,” over her shoulder.
The pie was savored between them both until not a single crumb was left. “I officially don’t hate Ruby as much,” Dean said. “She, uh, might be handy to call every now and then. Y’know. For later.”
For when I’m dead.
Sam looked at the clock, calculated the distance he needed, and took a deep breath. It was time. “I’ve got somewhere I want to show you,” he said. “If that’s okay.”
“Perfect,” Dean said quietly. His smile was genuine, if but a little solemn. “Let me finish packing up.”
Duffels went into the car, the keys were turned in, and Dean settled into the driver’s seat. “Where to?” he asked.
“I’m driving,” Sam said, and he pulled his prize from the paper bag. He slid the syringe into Dean’s neck before his brother could say anything, and Dean reeled from him, stunned.
“Wha-?”
He was already fading out. Ruby had gotten the good stuff. “S’my,” he murmured, and his desperate and frightened eyes shut. Frightened for Sam, not of him, but it didn’t hurt any less.
Sam pulled him swiftly into the passenger seat, then hurried around to the driver’s side. He took a minute to straighten his trembling hands. He glanced at the clock; it was going to take him a few hours to get to where he wanted to go. Last stop: middle of nowhere.
Sam hit the gas and fled, already feeling as if the hounds of hell were on his tail.
At 11:30pm, Sam had Dean shackled to the lone bed in the cabin, nestled as comfortably in as many blankets as Sam could conjure up, and surrounded with solid bars of iron, two devil’s traps, and as much salt as he could plant.
At 11:45pm, he had all of his guns ready to go, had made sure Dean had food and water (holy water) on hand, and double checked the wards he had up.
At 11:53pm, Dean came to. “S’my?”
“You’re okay, Dean,” Sam said, looking over his weapon choices. He decided on the Colt first, Ruby’s knife at his side, and a shotgun full of salt as a secondary. He checked the clock again. 11:54pm.
“Sam? Sam! What the hell are you doing?”
Well, he sounded far more alert this time. Sam risked a glance back and found Dean looking outraged, pissed off, and afraid. Very afraid. “What are you doing?” he asked again, and more of the fear came out. “Sammy, don’t you dare do something stupid!”
11:55pm. “Not stupid,” Sam promised and hoped he wasn’t lying. He took a deep breath and reached for the wooden box on the table. It was time.
A growl from the front door immediately caught his attention. Dean froze behind him.
“Oh Dean,” a female voice crooned from outside the cabin, and Sam hefted his gun. “I’m just dying to see you…”
Sam pursed his lips. It would take the hell hounds a bit to get through, but they’d eventually get through. God knew how long Lilith would be held off. Just hopefully long enough for him to enact his plan.
He set the box down on the ground and quickly unlatched it. “I invoke you in an hour of dire need,” he recited. “I beseech thee with an offering freely given to deliver me and mine hence from Lilith and her evils. Naamah, I call upon thee to help me in my time of need.”
11:57pm. More growls. The box did nothing. For the first time, true terror seized Sam, and he couldn’t breathe. Oh god. That was the last thing he’d had, the only thing he could think of, and now it was just him against hell hounds and Lilith-
“Samuel Winchester.”
Sam whipped around and found himself staring at a dark shape. It looked female, with a crown of bloodied steel and hair wound around its head. She was clothed in what appeared to be Greco style dress, but that too was also bloodied. It didn’t appear to be her blood.
Cool eyes watched him. “You called upon me,” the being said.
“Lilith is right outside,” Sam said. His heart was beating a million miles a minute, and adrenaline made his words almost a slur. “She wants my brother’s soul. I’m invoking you to take her on and make her release my brother’s soul. I give of myself freely as an offering to you.”
“No!” Dean howled. “No! No deals! Sammy, don’t you dare!”
11:59pm. The demon, Naamah, regarded him as if she had all the time in the world. If he’d known she was going to take this much time to answer, he would’ve invoked her sooner, but he’d figured the only chance he would have would be when Lilith actually showed up. And of course she’d taken her sweet time, making them sweat out the last seconds.
Seconds. Dean had seconds. The hell hounds were through the first set of seals and had now taken to the door, which had a devil’s trap painted on it. “Sammy, you can’t protect him forever,” Lilith shouted. “I will get what I want – I always do!”
“Please,” Sam begged. “She only wants him to hurt me, she only gave him a year, I’m a free offering-“
Over him, Dean was begging just the opposite. “Ignore him, he’s not making another deal, just leave him alone, let her take me-“
The door swung open wide, and while he couldn’t see the hounds, Sam could see the claw marks as they came in. Behind them was a young woman, beautifully dressed, her eyes focused on Sam. So was her furious glare. “Once I have Dean’s soul, I’m going to kill you,” she seethed. “All Dean did was buy you another year of breathing, Sam Winchester, but trust me when I say that’s-“
Then her eyes drifted to the black figure, and she froze. Her mouth dropped open, and she actually looked afraid. Sam dared to let himself take a quick gulp of air.
“Naamah,” Lilith said, aiming for casual and falling flat. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Naamah’s eyes narrowed and flashed a brilliant, otherworldly green. “You locked me away,” she hissed. “Damned me to a box to take what I wouldn’t give you.”
“He was good,” Lilith said. “And I loved him, you didn’t really love him-“
“He was mine,” and wow did Naamah’s voice have some power. The cabin trembled and shook dust from the rafters. Naamah took a blackened step towards Lilith, and Lilith did the thing Sam had hoped she would do.
Lilith backed away.
Figure out what scares them, and you’re likely to get what you want. Sam had stopped trying to scare Lilith himself – he was a power contender in her eyes, but not enough – but a rival that Lilith had hated enough to seal away for all eternity, one who’d been rumored to be more beautiful and powerful than her? Sam had gambled, sent Ruby to retrieve the box after she’d figured out where it was, and it looked like it was paying off.
It was working. Sam looked at the clock and saw that somehow, it was 12:02am. His lungs felt frozen, the air he’d taken in earlier trapped in his lungs. It was past midnight, and he couldn’t still dare to breathe. He couldn’t even dare look at Dean, terrified that if he looked at Dean, he’d lose him.
“I have every right to him,” Lilith said, pointing at Dean. “He sold his soul to return his brother to life. The terms were one year before his soul came due, and that’s now. He accepted those terms. Just, just let me take what’s mine-“
“He’s not yours,” Sam said viciously. “He’s my brother, not your plaything. You did it because you think I’m your rival and you want to take me out.”
They were the right words to say. Naamah’s eyes narrowed and she took another step towards Lilith. Lilith immediately stepped back. “I have every right to him!” Lilith shouted. Beside her somewhere, Sam could hear the hounds whimpering and retreating, responding to their master’s fear.
“You have no right,” Naamah growled, and her eyes blazed green again. She threw her hand out to Lilith, and green flames shot out, enveloping the other demon. Lilith screamed and howled, writhing in pain. The human host dissolved into ash, leaving a dark cloud that still somehow continued to scream in pain. Naamah closed her fist and shot it towards the wooden box on the floor.
The green flames disappeared. The dark cloud immediately flew into the box, and Naamah stepped on the lid. The cabin fell silent, and Sam knew he wasn’t imagining the smile of satisfaction on Naamah’s face.
Sam finally let out the breath he’d been holding and felt everything move dizzily around him. He glanced at Dean and found his brother kneeling on the bed, hands chained to either side of the frame, eyes wide and filled with fear. He didn’t look like a man grateful to have gotten off the gallows. If anything, he looked even more terrified than Sam had ever seen him before, and his eyes kept moving from Sam to the dark spirit beside him.
Right. Time to make his offering.
Sam turned to Naamah, who was still regarding the box. “Thank you,” Sam said earnestly, because he was. Infinitely grateful that she’d taken Lilith down and that Dean was free. Time for his side of the bargain. “I give of myself freely as an offering of gratitude.”
“Sam, no,” Dean croaked. “Sammy, please.”
Cool eyes turned to gaze at Dean for a moment, then back to Sam. “You freed me and delivered unto me my rival,” she said. There was a brief flicker of green in her eyes, but then it faded. Her form swayed, morphing from human form to a cloud of smoke and then back again. “And you still offer yourself?”
“Freely,” Sam whispered. “As a token of my gratitude for saving my brother’s soul.”
Dean cursed low and hard behind him, but Sam blocked it out. In the end, he’d known that if he died to give Dean his life again, it would be well worth it. He was the one who was the “Boy King,” he was the one who deserved to go to Hell. Not Dean.
Naamah regarded him for a long moment, as if searching him, judging him. Sam had nothing to hide. His joy at Dean’s freedom was starting to well in his eyes, and he blinked it away. Free. Dean was free.
After a minute, she slowly nodded. “I accept.”
“No! You want someone, take me,” Dean shouted. 12:08am. Not even ten minutes out from his last deal and he was already trying to make another one. Maybe Sam should’ve gagged him on top of chaining him. “Leave him alone!”
A wispy hand reached out towards Sam, and Sam took a sharp breath in. But the hand was open. Waiting. “I will take what you freely offered, for it pleases me. I do not deal in souls. What use have I for a soul? But your offering is a gift I shall not refuse.”
And suddenly, Sam knew exactly what she wanted, as if she’d told him loud and clear. He glanced at Dean, found his brother pulling desperately at his wrists, and he smiled. “Dean,” he said. Dean glanced at him, terrified. “Dean,” Sam said again, and then, “I’m not sorry. Jerk.”
Then, because it was his last chance to literally say it, he said, “I love you.”
Dean went ballistic, not understanding, wrenching at his restraints, trying desperately to get free. Sam turned to Naamah. “Samuel Winchester,” he said, or tried to. It came out like a whisper, a breath of air that disappeared into her waiting hand. She closed her fingers around it, and Sam choked on the words that had been there moments before.
Naamah bent to pick up the wooden box, then gazed at Sam. “You have done well, Samuel Winchester,” she said. “You and your brother may go.”
In an instant she was a dark cloud again, and she disappeared out through the broken door. Silence fell, and Sam swallowed hard. He nearly spoke, then thought better of it. Better to not test it. He’d given it freely, after all.
“Sam I swear to god if you don’t get me out of these chains-“
Sam turned towards the bed and took the first steps since he’d opened the box. His legs felt like syrup, and he stumbled on his way back to the bed.
“Sam! Are you all right? What did she do?”
He nodded his answer to the first question and ignored the second. The key to the chains sat underneath the plate of untouched food, and Dean cursed again when he realized how close his freedom had been. “You stupid son of a bitch, you drugged me and chained me up because you knew that what you were doing was stupid, you could’ve gotten yourself killed, and what the hell did she do to you?”
One hand free, the other hand free, and Dean suddenly surged off the bed, knocking the plate and the glass of water over in his haste to grab Sam. Sam stumbled back, his adrenaline fading into exhaustion, but he managed to grab onto Dean. Dean’s fingers dug into him, pushing and shoving everywhere he could, touching every single part of Sam and assessing him for damage.
Sam, on the other hand, was content to just put his hand over Dean’s chest, where his heart was beating a frantic rhythm. Alive. Dean was free and alive.
It made fresh tears well in his eyes, and he shut his eyes tight, letting them spill over his cheeks. He’d gambled and it had paid off. He’d found a bigger and badder demon to scare Lilith, and he’d won. It was over.
“Goddammit Sammy,” and Dean cupped his face, brushing the falling tears away. “Tell me what’s wrong!”
It was the only thing he couldn’t do. He clutched Dean’s frantic hands and held them still. I’m okay, he mouthed, over and over until Dean figured out what he was trying to say.
“What did she do?” Dean asked again. “What did she friggin’ take?”
Sam let out a shaky sigh. He could try to talk, see if she’d really taken his voice. Since it was an offering, however, there was a chance that the demon hadn’t taken it, but was considering his voice hers all the same.
A voice was one thing. Writing, however, wasn’t technically speaking. He dug around until he found a receipt in one of his jacket’s pockets, then found a pen. Dean crowded in and read over his shoulder.
I can’t talk.
“Yes you can,” Dean said immediately. “Say something.”
Sam just shook his head and pointed to the receipt. “You can’t talk,” Dean read, “Yeah, I see that-“
Then he stopped, and Sam waited for the pieces to fall into place. “You can’t talk,” Dean breathed. He stared at Sam, horrified. “She took your voice?”
Not taken, given, but just as Sam went to write on the receipt again, Sam’s cell phone rang. Dean grabbed it and answered. “Bobby, it’s me-“
The resulting explosion of sound made Sam smile. Not the person Bobby had expected to talk to after midnight. “No, I’m all right,” Dean said. “Bobby, it’s-“
He paused for a minute, and clearly Bobby was saying something very honest and not gruff, because Dean’s eyes took on a shimmer of emotion before he blinked it away. “Yeah, it’s good to still be here,” he said roughly. Then he shook himself. “But that’s because Sam made a damn deal of some kind.”
The phone exploded again, this time with anger, and Sam sighed. “The demon he called up – yes, he called a damn demon – she took his voice. He can’t talk.”
Dean listened for a moment more, then nodded. “We’re on our way. We’re not far, probably a few hours out. Trust me, I’m not sleeping anytime soon. Not after I got a nice five-hour nap thanks to whatever the hell Sam gave me to knock me out which, by the way, Sam, we are so talking about.”
One of them would be talking about it. Sam wouldn’t be involved – at least, not the way Dean wanted him to be.
Dean was alive.
Fuming, concerned, ready to rip Sam a new one, yet still hovering all at the same time, and Sam wouldn’t have it any other way.