Fake Fan Fiction ❯ The Devil's Sweet Ride ❯ Whoo and Whee and Fun Sorts ( Chapter 8 )

Toaster-chan: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! ducks flying objects I didn't mean to! He told me to! points to Muse!Chibi!Sammy You know he does The Face when I don't listen! You know what that does to me!

 

Slightly Confused?: Oh, please, you have no idea how nice it was to hear you say that you actually cared where the story went. I was happy to keep it there. I am sorry you're not familiar with anything, though—you should watch the show. There's only one season out on DVD, but the second season comes out in September and the third season airs on TV sometime around there. I hope you decide to check out our boys! (And the car. Oh, my God, the car…)

 

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Chapter 8

 

“You're not serious.”

 

For the first time since Sam had disappeared, Dean felt something, and it was clear in his voice. The silence on the other line was answer enough to his angry statement, though.

 

“Damn it, Ash!”

 

He spent a few more minutes swearing while Ash threw in random words of explanation every time he paused for breath, and then he slammed his phone down, hanging up on Ash and even enjoying it a little.

 

“Problem?” Drake asked in a voice that cracked with his effort to keep it steady.

 

“He can't help us. The man's a student from MIT and Einstein's own rival and he can't do anything but sit on his hands while my brother is being tor—”

 

A small, choked sound came from the general direction of the couch, and that was enough to bring Dean back to the earth with a thud. That one sound drained all the anger out of him—along with every bit of energy he had left. Suddenly feeling every bit of ninety years old, Dean dropped into the nearest chair and draped his legs over the arm, folding his hands on his chest.

 

“Okay, so your contact failed you,” Ryo said, his tone as businesslike as he could make it.

 

“Correction. My genius failed me—my genius who has never failed me before,” Dean replied with a stab of exasperation. But then, he really couldn't expect them to realize how very bad it was that Ash had actually tried and failed to find Sam and JJ.

 

“Fine. But he isn't the only person you know, is he?” Ryo pressed, paying no heed to Dean's tone. “I mean, there must be others.”

 

“Well, most of our friends are dead,” Dean said, and didn't notice the six pairs of eyes that suddenly fastened on him with shock and pity. “But there is one guy. I don't think he could help, but I'll give him a call.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, the phone was miraculously still intact, though lying on the floor across the room, and Dean had moved on to inventing new curse words rather than using the old, tired ones, upon finding out that Bobby was on a hunt somewhere in Washington and couldn't get to him for at least a few days.

 

And to top it all off, it had begun to rain.

 

XXX

 

“You're not serious.”

 

For the first time, Sam was absolutely certain that the YED was joking with him. Never mind that despite everything, the demon had never actually lied to him before. This had to be a joke.

 

“You can't honestly be expecting me to up and murder my friend just because you told me to!”

 

The demon smiled, and the expression, as always, looked strange and warped on a human face. “Of course not. Someday, maybe, but not now. However, you're still going to do it, in the end.”

 

“But…I…why?” Sam spluttered. In a distant corner of his mind, he was embarrassed at his lack of composure, but right now it didn't matter. “What could you possibly join from having me do something you could do so much more easily?”

 

The demon shrugged, and again Sam was struck by the sheer perverted humanity of the gesture. “The truth? I brought you here simply because I couldn't do to you what I did to the others—that whole psychic-defense thing rearing its ugly head. But I think this is a rather brilliant twist on my part.”

 

“But…but I don't know how,” Sam said, and then stopped short in shock. The words made it sound like he was actually considering this, which of course he wasn't. He had absolutely no reason to kill JJ—the guy clearly wasn't evil! “And even if I did it wouldn't matter because I'm not going to kill my friend!”

 

The demon's smile didn't waver. “But you're not sure of that, are you? After all, you did hesitate...”

 

“No! I didn't!”

 

“…Because you know deep down that I'm right. The boy is dangerous, Sammy. He's out of control. If I can't manage his power, then how can he possibly hope to?”

 

“You can't control my ability, either,” Sam said, and the edge of desperation in his own voice caught him by surprise. Why was he trying to reason his way out, anyway? No one could make him kill JJ…

 

Except…well, this demon might be able to.

 

Sam would have been the second-to-last person on Earth to admit it—second only to Dean—but he had never been particularly good at resisting demonic possession and the like. He'd always felt that he really ought to be—after all, he remained one of the few people in the world who was aware that he could be possessed. That fact, combined with his psychic ability, should indicate some level of resistance, but in fact the opposite seemed to be true.

 

So, basically, if the demon decided to make him do this, there was very little Sam could do about it. About all he could do was try and stall until he came up with a better plan—or until the cavalry arrived, whichever came first.

 

Hurry, Dean…

 

XXX

 

Drake was crossing over into panic now. Dean could see that much—and he could also see that the loss of control was triggering the same thing in everyone else. And the absolute worst part of it was that he himself was barely holding it together as it was.

 

Talking to Ash had done something to him. He could no longer sink into that peaceful place where he could just think and not feel. The blanket of detachment was gone, as if it had never been, and Dean's mind was rapidly clouding over with fear.

 

And he was beginning to realize that though he would work at it until he dropped dead right here on Drake's living room carpet, he wasn't going to be able to find his brother. He wasn't going to stop trying to find a way, not ever, but he had no tracking options left—nothing to go on except his Sam-sense, which could really only tell him that Sam was still alive.

 

He'd failed, and it was all up to Sammy now.

 

XXX

 

Dean wasn't coming.

 

Sam couldn't say when that realization sank in fully, but he could say that when it did, a sort of calm descended over him. Dean couldn't find him—no one could fine him. Who could be expected to? He didn't know where he was. Dean wasn't getting him out of this one—couldn't get him out of this one.

 

He was on his own.

 

JJ had fallen silent in the half-hour since the YED had started talking about Sam killing him and about how he was deadly and would eventually kill everyone including Dean and about everything else bad in the world, but he didn't seem to be there at all. He sat slumped against the wall across the room, his long limbs tangled in weird positions, his eyes shuttered and blank. And most disturbing of all were the moments when he would wrap his arms around himself and begin rocking slowly back and forth.

 

He looked…insane.

 

And Sam was scared, because it was all up to him now.

 

XXX

 

JJ was starting to forget why he was here. The world had dimmed until everything around him was black, but that was okay because he felt no desire to see anything.

 

The thing that had shown up and told him the truth about his memory loss was gone now, as if it had never been. It had literally disappeared under his hands after allowing him to beat up on it for several minutes. JJ was totally alone now. Even Sam wasn't there, and that was odd because he'd been the only one conscious when he'd been taken.

 

There was no one to rescue him now, and he couldn't even care.

 

He couldn't care that he was alone, that he was probably going to die soon, that he would never remember his friends or his boyfriend again. He was scared, terrified, but he was also just too empty to care.

 

A demon had taken a part of him away and was going to kill him soon, and he couldn't care.

 

Maybe he would even welcome it, if it didn't hurt too much. He was just so tired. He was tired of not knowing, tired of people looking at him with that mixture of pity and pain, tired of being a freak, and most of all, tired of feeling to spectacularly guilty. It all chafed at his mind, made him feel tiny and weak and raw like a newborn child, and he just couldn't deal with it anymore.

 

So, yeah, maybe he was ready. He wasn't sure, but he hoped so, because it was going to happen anyway—of that he was sure—and he wanted to be prepared for it.

 

XXX

 

Maybe I can do it without killing him.

 

That thought occurred to Sam with some level of skepticism, but it was a good enough idea that he paused to think it through.

 

It was looking more and more likely that he wasn't going to be able to get them out if this. He was still bound by ropes that simply would not give, no matter how many tricks of the trade he applied, and even if he had a chance of getting free he had no chance against the demon. But maybe…if he could suppress JJ's ability enough that it would look like it wasn't there—maybe he would get away with it.

 

Of course, there were problems to consider. Like the fact that he didn't know if it was possible to simply repress psychic ability, or have any idea at all how to do it himself. He also didn't have a clue how to get JJ out even if they did get away with the first part of the plan.

 

Still, it seemed to be his only option.

 

“…So you can really see the problem here. I really don't have any other choice but to kill him. It's unfortunate, but…”

 

“Will it hurt him?”

 

“Probably. Like I said, the psychic energy is a very deep part of him. But it will be quick, and the alternative is worse. He could kill anyone, anytime—including your sainted brother. And himself, of course. So in your bleeding-heart way of looking at things, maybe you'd even be doing him a favor.”

 

Sam didn't listen to the last part. If he did, he would be tempted to make this easy, now that he had an excuse. Instead, he just said it fast before he had second thoughts.

 

“I'll do it.”

 

He thought he sounded pretty convincing. He even managed to put a little crack in his voice, as if pained by his own words.

 

“Are you certain?”

 

Sam was sickened by the false sympathy underscored by mockery, and he allowed it to show. “Just tell me how.”

 

XXX

 

JJ could pin down the exact moment when he felt someone in the darkness with him—it was the moment when he felt relief for the first time tonight, when he felt an overwhelming gratitude toward whoever was with him, whether it be friend or foe.

 

Little did he know that it was both.

 

“…Hello?” he called tremulously.

 

There was only silence.

 

“Who's there?” he called again.

 

No one answered, but JJ did feel a flicker of…something. Like…eyes, sweeping over him.

Searching.

 

XXX

 

Later, Sam wouldn't be able to say what he was seeing right now. The inside of a human mind was nothing like he would have expected, had he ever thought about it before. It was…chaos. Thoughts weren't neat or ordered or readable—they just whirled and wheeled and circled. He really couldn't see what anything looked like. It was like looking at something too closely, with a magnifying glass—he got the feeling that if he would only back up, what he saw would make a lot more sense.

 

But he couldn't back up. His only option was to try and make sense of things as they were.

 

He wondered if the “psychic parts” would be difficult to find.

 

He wondered if JJ would fight him.

 

He soon found out the answer to both questions.

 

XXX

 

JJ couldn't figure out the personality of the seeker. It didn't feel malevolent, but it seemed to be a little…intrusive. He felt as if it were studying some unseen part of him. And yet…it also seemed warm toward him.

 

So was a friend who invaded you still a friend?

 

JJ winced as he felt a headache coming on.

 

Clearly, he was in no fit state to ask these kinds of questions.

 

XXX

 

They were wrong.

 

Sam felt disgusted as he looked at the big patches that represented JJ's psychic abilities. They just…sickened him, somehow. They were huge and red-angry and diseased—cancerous. They were hurting JJ—killing him—and suddenly Sam just wanted them gone.

 

But…no. He couldn't. That would kill JJ. He just had to…make them healthy again. Yeah, that would do it…maybe…

 

Grim but determined, Sam got down to work.

 

XXX

 

He hurt. The Presence was hurting him—cutting him. Taking something from him. Something important, even if he didn't know exactly what it was.

 

JJ was suddenly a man in two parts. One part was actually grateful at whoever was stealing from his mind. It felt…cleansing. But the other part—the stronger part—was furiously, horrifically angry.

 

And that was the part that was rapidly taking over.

 

XXX

 

Sam felt that he had reached a turning point when the first attack came. It lashed out and wrapped around his mind, and it was strong. And angry. And it wanted him out.

 

Stubbornly, Sam pushed it away, but it kept coming back. He felt his defenses getting weaker. He had no idea how long he'd been at this, but he couldn't risk the YED joining him, so he had to finish soon—which he couldn't do if JJ kept trying to kill him.

 

JJ, STOP IT!

 

XXX

 

JJ froze, the anger stayed for a moment by confusion.

 

“…Sam?”

 

The Presence paused, then a voice echoed again in JJ's mind.

 

Yeah. It's me.

 

“You're the one who's stealing from me?”

Not stealing. I'm trying to help you. So will you please stop attacking me?

 

“But…but, Sam, you're hurting me.”

 

His voice sounded tiny and pathetic to his own ears, and Sam's voice became gentle in his mind.

 

I know. But it will help you in the end, okay? I promise.

 

JJ probably should have had to think about it—he wasn't sure how he could trust the validity of Sam's statement. He couldn't even really be sure this was Sam. It could be someone who wanted to hurt him. It could even be the demon.

 

“…Okay.”

 

XXX

 

It was pretty much smooth sailing from there. With JJ leaving him alone, Sam was able to wrestle the red, diseased spots of JJ's mind into submission with more ease.

 

It was weird. He had no idea what he was doing right now—he was basically running around in the dark. But it was working, and in a few more minutes the diseased parts were a nice, healthy icy blue.

 

After that, it took only a little while to secure barriers around the psychic parts, and then JJ's powers were bound and Sam's work was done.

 

He removed himself from JJ's mind and opened his eyes, looking around as JJ's hands dropped from his.

 

The YED was watching him with a small smile. “Good, Sammy. I expected it to take much longer. At least a day.”

 

“How long?” he asked, and then was forced to clear his dry throat.

 

“Eight hours.”

 

Sam choked.

 

“Yes…much less time than I expected. I wonder…”

 

“Sam?”

 

Sam stiffened as JJ spoke up behind him, sounding tired but perfectly fine otherwise.

 

“Sam, wha's goin' on?”

 

Slowly, the smile slipped from the YED's face, and he frowned. “Sammy, is there something you'd like to tell me?”

 

Sam looked at it, then at JJ, who was sitting up now, looking pale and exhausted and bewildered. He obviously had no idea where he was, or how much danger he was in. He didn't even seem to notice the demon.

 

And before he knew it, Sam was turning around and standing up, blocking JJ with his body and saying, “Don't touch him.”

 

For the first time, he met those yellow eyes, and he knew suddenly that there would be no need for explanations. Those eyes could clearly see what he'd done without words.

 

For several minutes, the YED stared at him, plucking the whole story from his head. Then it said quietly, “You're going to make me hurt you if I want him.”

 

Sam nodded.

 

“And there's nothing I can do to change your mind about this.”

 

Sam shook his head.

 

“You're certain?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Once again the demon stared at him—and then smiled.

 

“Well played, Sammy-boy.” It looked at JJ, and its lip curled with contempt. “Guard him well.”

 

And then it was gone, and Sam had no idea what had happened.

 

XXX

 

JJ's mind was a whirl of uncertainty. He had very little idea of what was happening around him. Pictures flashed through his brain—people, places, things, events, emotions…and after a moment his mind put a name to the images.

 

Memories.

 

He did know that Sam was with him. Standing in front of him, actually, and talking to someone. Someone with a lilting, melodious voice that frightened him somehow. The voice brought a face to mind—a handsome face with sharp features and yellow eyes and a cruel smile.

 

And then the voices were silenced, and Sam was crouching in front of him and saying something, and there were hands clutching at his shoulders and he was being shaken gently…

 

And then Sam pulled him to his feet and supported him in what he assumed was the direction of the door, and a thought occurred to him that cleared his mind as surely as a bucket of ice water.

 

Drake…

 

XXX

 

Dean was about to leave Drake's apartment again—he stopped there to check in once every hour before taking his map and going back out to search each building he'd circled on it, since it was the only option he had left—when his cell sounded a ring tone that made his heart stop before beginning to pound against his ribs.

 

He had the phone out of his pocket and pressed to his ear before anyone else seemed to realize it was ringing. There were several things he wanted to do—scream, yell, cry—but in deference to the others, he managed to keep his voice low, though deadly.

 

“Sammy, you'd better have one hell of a story to tell me.”

 

“You'll be on the edge of your seat. And it's Sam,” Sam replied, sounding completely worn out.

 

“Whatever. Where—”

 

“On the way there. We're taking a cab. JJ's with me. He's fine, and Dean, I think he remembers. Everything.”

 

That gave Dean pause, and a thousand questions exploded in his head, but right then he was too angry to ask them.

 

“Just…hurry up and get back here.”

 

He heard Sam chuckle tiredly as he hung up, and then he was immediately set upon by six very loud people.

 

Zombie-like, he fought his way over to the couch and dropped onto it, rubbing a hand over his face and leaning back, closing his eyes and resting his legs on the coffee table.

 

But they wouldn't go away, and so he said without opening his eyes, “They're fine. They're on their way here. I don't know what happened yet. Now leave me alone so I can concentrate on not killing my brother as soon as I see him.”

 

He heard them murmuring back and forth. Then two people joined him on the couch, the rest retreated to other parts of the room, and the waiting began.

 

He lost track of time, so it could have been a minute or an hour before he heard footsteps out in the hall. He was on his feet by the time the door opened, and then JJ came in, trailed by Sam.

 

Dean's anger drained away as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling that fluttered his stomach. He'd thought he was prepared enough not to embarrass himself upon seeing Sam, thought he'd be able to react with the usual sarcasm.

 

But apparently, having one's kid brother kidnapped by a deeply evil demon subverted normal behavior, because Dean found his body unresponsive when he told it to calm down.

 

He managed to establish that Sam was unhurt at he walked toward him, and when he got there he pulled Sam into a long, tight hug.

 

Sam stiffened in surprise, patting him awkwardly on the back. “Uh…Dean? Aren't you…pissed at me?”

 

“You have no idea, man,” Dean murmured into Sam's jacket. His arms tightened for a moment and then he pushed Sam away. “You, Sammy, are an idiot,” he growled, and Sam smiled at him before going to collapse on the couch, where Derek immediately grabbed him in a sideways embrace before moving to sit on the floor, making room for Dean to sit next to his brother.

 

Meantime, everyone else—except Nikki, who just sat looking thoughtful, and Derek, who was talking quietly to Sam—was staring at JJ, standing over near the door, looking puzzled.

 

“Stop staring at me, you guys!” he whined. “I'm not a baboon in a zoo! If I was, I'd throw food at you, see?”

 

Drake fell open at this blatant JJ-ism, and he stared.

 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. JJ got his memory back,” Dean said carelessly, and grunted when Sam's hand cracked across the back of his head.

 

The expected bedlam did not erupt. Instead, everyone just kept staring for several long moments.

 

Then, quite suddenly, Drake broke the stillness by launching himself across the room and grabbing JJ in an embrace so tight his eyes actually popped out before pulling him into a kiss that made the onlookers blush and avert their eyes.

 

It soon became clear that the two were not going to be separating any time soon, nor did they seem too interested in anyone else. So, after waiting for what he felt was an acceptable length of time, he turned to Sam and interrupted whatever conversation he and Derek were having.

 

“So talk, Sammy.”

 

XXX

 

Several hours later, the Winchester brothers finally made it back to their motel room, after spending a great deal of time going over the story again and again, trying to analyze the YED's reason for letting them go, and how JJ's memories had come back so suddenly. They'd finally decided not to question the first part, and that Sam's meddling had probably flipped a few extra switches in JJ's mind to bring the memories back, and then Sam, Dean, Derek, Nikki, Diana, Ryo, and Dee departed, leaving Drake and JJ alone to make out.

 

By now, both Dean and Sam were pretty much done, and it was in a daze that they showered and changed and fell into their beds. There would be much to talk about tomorrow, but now wasn't the time for words.

 

Sam was almost asleep by the time he pulled the covers up, but there was still something important he had to say.

 

“Dean?” he asked sleepily.

 

He heard shifting in the other bed, and knew Dean had turned over to look at him. “Yeah?”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“You're an idiot, Sammy,” Dean replied, with warm affection this time. “Now get some sleep.”

 

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Author's Note: Well, that was much easier than I thought it would be, though the ending feels a bit rushed. I am sorry for the overall drawn-out-ness of the chapter, and for the fact that I sort of abandoned logic. All of these things I should probably fix before posting, but right now I just want to update, and then sleep, because it's like two-thirty in the morning.

 

Anyways, the epilogue should be up soon, and it'll maybe explain things a little more. Thanks for sticking with me! (No, seriously, it was very big of you guys...)