Adam's Revenge •~Supernatural~•

15. A Real Nightmare

•{SAM}•

•{}•

My fist was raised to strike my brother once again. I fought from within, trying to relinquish the hold Lucifer had on my actions knowing there was nothing I could do, nothing I could attempt to regain control. I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs -fight tooth and nail against the imposing presence that threatened to make my head explode. But my attempts were futile, and my fist came down once again and connected with Dean's face.

Dean's head snapped to the side, a bloody gash appearing just above his left eyebrow. Again, with all the will power I possessed, I fought against Lucifer's hold; again, it was useless. My fist was raised unwillingly once more as Dean's shaking hand came up and clasped my arm.

"I'm not gonna leave you," he rasped in a broken voice.

I knew I was dreaming -with a nagging feeling that I needed to wake up now- but his words still had the same impact on me as they did when he'd spoken them in real time that day in the cemetery.

I felt my fist clench, preparing to let fly another punch, despite my desperate attempts to force my hand to drop and to regain control.

Then, unexpectedly, the sun glinted off the side of the Impala in which Dean was leaning against. It drew my attention towards the interior of the car, and towards a toy army man that was stuck within an ashtray. Instantly, the memory of Dean and I stuffing the ashtrays and air vents with army men and Lego blocks when we were kids flooded my mind. Everything else seemed to cease to exist. A jolt shot through me as memories of the past five years flooded my head; all consisting of Dean and I on the road fighting the good fight, through thick and thin, together.

These memories served as sledgehammer that demolished Lucifer's unbreakable hold on my mind and body. I gasped as I was able to relax my fist of my own free will and stumble away from my bleeding brother. Even though I had command over my my actions once again, Lucifer's presence was still unbearable in my head. I could feel the devil fighting to get free, to regain control -anything- because in that moment he knew he was beat.

I took several shallow breaths while my heart raced and the scent of the dead grass of Stull Cemetery pervaded my nose. I remembered what I needed to do.

I looked back at my big brother. He was slumped on the ground now, his face cut and bleeding from the damage my knuckles caused.

Short of breath and fighting with everything I had to remain in control, the only words that I was able to say to him were, "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him." 

All these years, it had always been Dean saying things were going to be okay, and now it was my turn. I had to reassure my brother; I wanted to be there for him because he was always there for me when I needed him. The job had always fallen to him to pick up the destroyed pieces of our lives and put them back together. Now, that job has fallen to me. It was my turn to provide him with a sense of peace, because I knew that what was going to come after this was not going to be pleasant for either of us.

Through his swollen and bruised eyes, Dean gave me a look that I would always remember. It was a mixture of fear, sadness, and heartbreak. But underneath that was an emotion that I knew would accompany me into that dark pit with the devil in tow. It was the same expression Dean would give me when we finished a hunt together or when I managed to hustle a game of pool and come out with a couple hundred bucks. In each of these scenarios, my big brother always looked at me with pride. Only this time it was amplified by a thousand degrees.