Some Nights

Remember Me

caution: contains spanking; trigger warning: death, grief, self harm.

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"I tried EVERYTHING. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right?! You were rotting in hell for months...for months and I couldn't stop it. So, I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right?..Dean, I'm sorry."

-Lazarus Rising  4x01

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Dean was in Hell.

Sam Winchester pushed down the grief as he lit the match, dropping it into the sacred bowl, not even flinching as a burst of red flame lit up the deserted basement. Sam set the bowl in the center of the devil's trap, stepping back. He waited a moment, watching the flames flicker hungrily along the edge of the bowl. It was almost as if you could feel the evil waiting to enter the room. This would be the time when Dean would look across from the other side of the sigil, and raise his eyebrows, asking him in only a way Sam understood if he was ready or not. Sam's eyes went to the other side of the room, but as he expected, he was completely alone.

Ready or not.

He raised both of his arms over his head, and dropped to his knees, bowing his head. He could feel the blood trickling down his arms, to his face, running down to his face, and beyond. The spell had been buried, by Bobby Singer's doing. Sam couldn't blame the older man, if the situation would've been reversed, Sam would've made sure any and all spells were out of the way. 

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 Grief made people do crazy things. 

That's what Bobby had whispered to Ellen, two weeks ago after the funeral. They had all convened to Bobby's house, a straggle of hunters who knew John back in the day, and Ellen and Jo, who had stayed after, helping Bobby clean up. Sam had pretended to fall asleep on the couch, if only to avoid the prying glances, and whispers that followed him. Being a part of the hunter family meant that gossip happened, and Sam was aware that his being alive wasn't a natural thing, and the very reason why Dean was gone now. It was too much to bear so Sam found himself on the couch, his face tucked into the cushion, fighting back tears when Bobby and Ellen came into the room.

"Poor soul." Ellen sighed. Sam fought back more tears at her kind tone, feeling her drape the wool blanket over him, her fingers lingering on his hair before stepping away. "Do you know how he's doing?"

"Probably the same as we all are doing." Bobby sounded rough, and he spoke slowly as if he were trying to hold something back. "I'll keep an eye on him. He'll be ok."

"Maybe he can come stay with me and Jo." Ellen offered quietly. "It might be hard for him to stay here with all these memories just floating around."

"I know what you mean, but I can't make that decision for him. Right now, I just want make it to tomorrow, hell, I just want to make it through the next hour."

"One step at a time." Ellen's voice was kind. There was some shuffling, and Sam assumed she was hugging Bobby. Sure enough, her next words were muffled as if pressed against his shoulder. "You are the best thing he has right now." 

"I don't know about that. You were right about memories." Sam felt uncomfortable as he felt Bobby's eyes land on him, pausing for a long moment, as if weighing what he was about to say very carefully. "I've been hiding some of the books in the library. Don't want the kid to see, or get any ideas."

"What books?" Ellen prompted, her voice low.

"Anything thing that has someone raising people from the dead. It's what got us into this mess in the first place."