Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: So much to say. First off, I would like to thank anyone who actually stuck with it this far to the end. This last chapter was very tricky to get out, considering that I had to rewrite the whole thing at least three times. I've also reduced this fic's rating, considering that it turned out to have pretty much none of the disturbing content that the first story had in it. Please R&R (and of course flames are more than welcome).
Chapter 10: Salvation
It had taken Sam a long time to purge himself of the pain from it all, but his sobs eventually grew weaker and his tears began to dry. He laid there a while longer, working up the drive to stand up and go. Charlie needed him, though, and that was all the encouragement he needed to push himself to his feet and get in the car. The boy in question had fallen asleep, his tiny face relaxed in the pure restful sleep of childhood. A smile flashed across Sam's face at the sight and he started the car and pulled out of the clearing and back down the old dirt road he had come in on.
His breakdown had done him a world of good, his mind a little more clear in the aftermath of it. There were so many things on his mind now, like his powers and the soul's claim that the Devil had let him out. It didn't really surprise him that his boss would be a dick like that, but he wondered what his reasoning was behind it. If Edgar was telling the truth, then it meant that the Devil let him out to pit him against Sam. The thought of it stirred the anger within him, uncoiling it like a waking viper. He quashed that line of thinking, not wanting to let himself get that worked up over it. As for his powers, Sam could only feel fear. In the church and before that, he just threw his abilities around without thought or concern. But now, he couldn't help but wonder if they signified something dark and awful. The question popped in his head; what if he took this great power and abused it? The thought of succumbing to that corruption frightened him deeply, reminding him of all the different times the Devil had tried to lead him astray. Tony had basically told him that it was okay to use these abilities, that it was going to be necessary for him to use them in the future. In fact, those powers proved vital to his and his friends' survival just last night. Today, though, he had thrown it around like a toy and almost reveled in the fear he had caused in Edgar.
Sam drove straight back home, physically exhausted but unable to rest. He needed to get Charlie home as soon as he could, his wellbeing superseding all else. After Charlie was situated, he could safely pass out. Until then, he would keep his eyes glued to the road and his hands glued to the wheel, forcing his mind to focus on the yellow and white lines ahead of him. Charlie slept the entire way; his ordeal must've exhausted him, as well. Sam knew that it was going to make the baby a nightmare to deal with later, but couldn't find it in him to keep him awake just then.
It was somewhere around mid-afternoon when Sam pulled into his parking garage. He parked his car and grabbed a sleeping Charlie from his seat. Taking the little boy with him, Sam trudged up to his apartment and entered. Everyone –minus Sam Winchester- was inside, sitting on the couch. They were about to rush him and pepper him with questions, but he held his finger up to his lips and pointed at Charlie. The four of them got the hint and kept their questions to themselves, their curiosity almost overwhelming. He quietly took Charlie to his room and dressed him in his little pajamas and put him to bed. When he was certain that Charlie was okay, Sam left the room and rejoined his friends.
"It's been taken care of," he said in answer to their unasked question.
"You're both alright?" asked Andi, the concern in her voice touching him deep inside.
Smiling genuinely, he nodded his head and said," yes, we're both alright."
"Oh, thank God." She rushed him and enveloped him in a crushing hug. "I was so worried about you; you were gone so long and I didn't know if something had happened to you and I was just so scared."
"Andi, I'm fine, just a little tired is all." He looked around and asked, "did Sam Winchester leave?"
"Yeah, he left this morning, saying he would be in the area for a couple more days," replied Sock.
"Good, I have a lot of things I want to talk to him about," said Sam. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key chain vessel. "Would one of you guys get this to Gladys?"
"That the vessel?" asked Sock.
"Yeah."
"No can do," said Ben.
"Why not?" asked Sam.
"All of Downtown Seattle's been shut down in light of what happened last night. There is no getting to the DMV, not any time soon."
"Oh," replied Sam, unsure of his feelings on that. "Well, we'll deal with it later then." Putting the vessel back in his pocket, he turned back to Andi, who was looking at him critically.
"You're exhausted," she claimed. "Come on, let's get you to bed after you take a shower."
"Okay," he said, letting her lead him by the hand to his bedroom.
"Sam," she said, her voice dropped to a whisper. "You look like you're running on empty, something that's been a recurring theme with you lately."
Looking down at the floor, unable to maintain eye contact with her, he said, "I know. I've just been so tired, but every time I close my eyes…" Sam choked off here, not up to going down that dark road, especially with all that he had on his mind currently.
"Oh honey," she said, reaching out to touch his face. He flinched initially, his mind in the past. She tried again and stroked his cheek lovingly, tilting his head back up to look at her. "I don't know what happened to you over there, when you went out East, but I know it's done nothing but weigh you down."
"It was a bad place; the things I saw there." He focused his gaze on her and said, "I can't talk about it, it hurts too much. I'm just so tired." And he was, his exhaustion went beyond the physical and the mental. He was emotionally drained and his spirit felt stretched thin, about to snap from the tension of it all.
"Here," she said, grabbing the hem of his shirt. "Let's get you undressed." She pulled his shirt up and he lifted his arms to allow her to remove it. Andi assisted him in removing his clothing and led him to the bathroom, where she had him sit down on the toilet as she started the water. The two of them went about this silently, just happy to be in each other's presence. Inside the shower, he hissed in pain at the stinging burn of his wounds being exposed to the hot water, but couldn't help but feel himself start to relax under the soothing heat of the water. Afterwards, she helped him towel off and redressed his bandages.
Andi led him over to his bed, where she had him lay down. He closed his eyes and felt her place a kiss on his temple, before pulling the covers over the two of them and holding him close. He fell into a deep dreamless sleep, feeling the comforting warmth of his girlfriend by his side.
Sam woke up to the beautiful sight of Andi's face. Her eyes were open and she was gazing fondly at him. "Morning," she said.
"Mornin'. How long have you been watchin' me?" he asked.
"Since I woke up about an hour ago," she replied.
Sam looked up at his alarm clock, seeing that it was just after ten. He looked over to Charlie's crib and asked, "has he been sleeping this whole time?"
"No, he woke up a few hours after you put him to bed yesterday and Sock and Ben took care of him for awhile. They got him back to bed by nine last night and grabbed him when I woke up an hour ago. They said they'd get his breakfast, because we didn't wanna wake you."
"Oh," he said, grateful that they would do that for him.
"Let's just lie here together for awhile," she said.
"Okay," he said, as she reached over and kissed him. Sam and Andi laid there in his bed, making love in the lazy haze of a morning that hadn't truly started yet. Afterward, they stayed in bed holding each other in post-coital satiation. At one point, he was looking outside, when he noticed something a little odd. "What happened to the window?" he asked.
"According to Sock and Ben, you happened to the window."
"Me?" he asked.
"Yeah, I don't know. You'll have to ask them."
"Whatever," he said, "I just wanna stay here with you right now." Sam threw himself over her and they started making out once more. The two of them had sex again, before getting up for the day. They got dressed in a comfortable silence, Sam transferring the contents of his old pants into his clean ones, and left the bedroom. Sock was playing with Charlie in the living room, while Ben was speaking to someone on the phone in rapidly spoken Spanish.
Sam and Andi got something for breakfast and sat down at the table, watching Sock and Charlie. The two of them were playing a game of peek-a-boo, which was eliciting great peals of laughter from the baby. It was good to see that the little boy was recovering from his experience so quickly, something he feared would be an issue. Sam only wished that he had that sort of resiliency; his mind would be the better off for it. He finished his cereal and set the bowl in the sink, walking off to the bathroom.
He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Flipping on the light switch, he cursed when the bulb burned out and the room stayed dark. Sam opened the door to try his personal bathroom and found that it led somewhere else instead. In place of his apartment hallway, he found himself entering a wide open field. It was the exact same field that the Devil whisked him away to when he was getting Sam's answer to his proposal to start paying him. Stepping out of the bathroom, the ground cold and wet under his bare feet, he briefly looked back to see there were no signs of a room being there at all, only more field with a forest set against a river on the far side. It was really a beautiful place, he was forced to admit. It was too bad that it was associated with the source of all evil.
"I must extend my deepest congratulations to you, Sammy," said the Devil from somewhere behind him. "You did it and you did it very well."
"It was a cluster fuck," countered Sam, "but you knew that from the get-go. Here's the vessel by the way," he said, extracting the key-chain from his pocket.
"What do you want me to do with that?" asked the Devil, sounding genuinely confused.
"Take it back to Hell with you," replied Sam, his voice thick with disdain for the vile creature standing before him. "Look, the DMV's shut down along with the rest of Seattle for the foreseeable future and I'm done carrying it around with me; you take it."
The Devil took the vessel without a word, slipping it into his jacket pocket before settling his discomforting gaze back on his bounty hunter. Sam, to his credit, just stared back at him.
"Oh, said Satan, "but getting back to the initial topic, You were completely awesome out there the other night. I mean, you caused, what? somewhere upwards of 3.6 billion dollars in damages to the city of Seattle with a grand total of twenty-three civilians dead and forty-two more injured."
"W,what?" asked Sam, suddenly feeling very sick.
Sensing his distress, the Devil responded with, "don't worry, I got rid of all evidence that you or any of your friends had anything to do with it, even that demon hunter buddy of yours."
"Twenty-three people died?" asked Sam, ignoring what his boss said. "Oh God, that's awful."
"Oh, calm down, hero, there was nothing you could've done to save them. Edgar Ross threw his power around like it was going out of style and innocent people fell victim to that irresponsibility. But enough about Edgar, let's talk about you. You've risen to a new level, Sammy, and I only feel the utmost respect for you."
"What are you talkin' about?" asked Sam, confused about why the Devil was saying these things.
" I'll be brief, seeing as how little time I have at the moment. You're powers have been exercised like a muscle and now you have them at your command. You've faced some of the worst things that this wretched world has to offer and you've come out on top, in spite of it. I can see it in your eyes; there's a confidence that's never been there before." The Devil pulled out a pack of smokes and took one out for himself, holding out the pack in an offering to Sam. He took one, letting Satan light it for him.
"You let Edgar out of Hell, didn't you?" asked Sam, his features perfectly schooled to reveal nothing of what he thought of that.
"I did," admitted The Devil, smoke drifting from his mouth and forming swirling patterns of grayish-white in the air.
"Why?"
"To test you, of course." Satan paused to take another drag. "I needed to make sure you were truly ready."
"Ready for what?" asked Sam, feeling something beyond curiosity for what was about to be said.
"For what's to come," Said Satan, before turning away and looking out over the expanse of land. While some part of Sam wanted to ask him what he meant by that, he was mostly just thankful that the Devil had seen fit to stop talking. The two of them finished their smokes in silence, before Sam was sent back to his bathroom.
A couple hours after the Devil dropped him back off at home, he was visited by a nervous-looking Sam Winchester. He invited him in and they sat down in the living room, Sam stopping by the kitchen to pour a couple mugs of coffee for the two of them. When they were both situated, Winchester asked, "you appear calm and happy enough, so am I to assume it all worked fine?"
"Well, I dont know if 'fine' is the word I would use, but yeah, I got him back safe and sound." Sam took a sip of his coffee.
"That's great, but what about that old dude I'm assuming was an escaped soul?"
"Back in Hell, right where he belongs."
Winchester appeared bothered at the mention of Edgar being in Hell, but his reason remained unclear and he schooled his features quickly to hide his feelings on the matter. "Good, I guess. But that wasn't my entire reason for coming by, of course. I looked into what we talked about the other day at the diner and I gathered some information, but I gotta tell you that what I uncovered bothers me a little."
Sam sighed in dawning comprehension and said, "alright then, lay it on me."
"Your boss," said Winchester, "the demon that has your soul, he's more than what you hinted at."
"Yes," he admitted, "I'm sorry for not telling you the whole story, but it's not an easy thing to fess up to."
"I get that and I'm not upset that you kept it to yourself. Honestly, if I were in your shoes, I would very well do the same thing. Listen, about this whole bounty hunter for Hell thing, I dug up some info on it and, while there was a whole slew of contradictory facts, there was one universal theme that stood out. Over the centuries, there have been hundreds and hundreds of bounty hunters such as yourself and they all were reported to have only one boss."
Sam took a sip of coffee, hoping that it might miraculously calm him down, as he waited for the bomb to drop.
Winchester leaned forward, dropping his voice a few decibels. "When I first found this information, I didn't believe it, not a word of it. But, there were so many sources that confirmed this, that I was forced to change my mind on the matter. Your kind of bounty hunters, sometimes inaccurately called reapers, all have been reported to work for the Devil. Most have only dealt with lower-level underlings, but their real boss has always been Lucifer. Your parents sold your soul to Satan, didn't they?"
He couldn't bring himself to look Sam Winchester in the face, opting to nod his head in confirmation as he stared at the coffee in his hands. "Yeah," he said at last, "they did."
"Something you should know," continued Winchester, "is that there has never been a case that I found where the person forced to do his bidding has ever been able to get out of it. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he said, "I figured as much, to be honest with you."
A heavy silence fell between, the weight of their conversation hanging low in the air. Both Sams drank their coffee, each feeling extremely awkward for their own reasons. It was eventually Sam Oliver that broke the silence by asking about his brother, Dean. It was apparently not the subject to bring up, as Winchester visibly tensed up at the mention of his brother's name.
"He's gone," said Winchester, his voice indicating quite clearly that he wasn't going to elaborate any more than that.
"I,I'm sorry," responded Sam, stuttering a little on his own words. "I just assumed that since you were alive and the police report..." He trailed off trying to put his words together effectively and just decided to give up.
Winchester looked like he had something else he wanted to say, but seemed uncertain as to how to say it. After a minute of building up the courage, he finally said, "there's more that I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh?" asked Sam, encouraging him to spit it out.
"When we got back here the other night, when you discovered your son was missing, something happened. You displayed some unusual abilities and shattered all the windows in your apartment."
"Oh," he said in response, feeling particularly dumb for not being able to say anything more to that.
"It's just that I know that it must make you feel like some sort of freak, but I just wanted you to know that it doesn't make you a monster, or anything like that," finished Winchester lamely.
Another awkward silence followed his words, before the two of them managed to find somewhat more neutral topics to discuss and Sam Winchester left with a promise to keep in touch from time to time, especially if he found anything of his father's that pertained to Sam.
It was approaching early evening and Sam was sitting in the living room, Charlie playing happily on the floor in front of him. He was keeping his attention focused on the baby and reading the newspaper. It was pretty much filled entirely with stuff about what had happened in downtown Seattle the other night. All he could feel about the events of that night was a deep crushing guilt. Sure, it was Edgar who was ultimately responsible for those deaths, but Sam most definitely had his share of culpability when it came to that. He hadn't even been thinking of the innocent bystanders at the time. Maybe if he had given it some thought, he could have done something different that would have reduced the number of lives lost that night. Shaking his mind clear of that self-doubt, he folded up the newspaper and set it aside.
He spotted Charlie staring at a spider crawling innocently across the carpet, absolutely fascinated by the tiny creature and its journey through the living room. The baby reached out with his pudgy little arms, his fragile tiny hands stretched out to touch it. Sam was about to get up and gently stop Charlie from eating the bug or doing whatever he was going to do with it, when a foot came down, stomping the spider to death. Poor Charlie started crying in response, both scared of the sudden action and the loss of his object of interest.
"Sock," exclaimed Sam, "that was uncalled for; you made him cry."
"Oh sorry," Said Sock, disinterestedly. He scraped the spider's remains off the sole of his shoe, leaving its mangled body on the carpet.
After Sock walked off, Sam got up and retrieved a paper towel from the kitchen, taking it back with him to pick up the dead bug. Charlie was reaching out to touch it, forcing Sam to say, "Oh no, don't touch that, little buddy, it's icky." Sam rushed over to stop him from doing that, when the most amazing thing happened. Charlie's fingers brushed the crushed husk of the spider and a bright blue spark jumped from the tips and into the lifeless body. What happened next, floored Sam completely. The spider's body came back in on itself, reforming back into its original self. It started crawling away again, going about its journey to the far wall, while Charlie clapped his hands and giggled in glee.
-fin
A/N2: Anyone who actually stuck with this story from the first one, might be a little peeved at me for not resolving some of the things that were left unresolved then (i.e. the video tape and the medallion). I honestly tried to integrate them in, but they didn't fit in this story. I will resolve them in the last story, I swear. And I also swear that I am not one of the writers for Lost. Thank you all.