Fic: My Brothers' Keepers - Part Seven
Apr. 26th, 2009 06:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brighteyedjillTitle: My Brothers' Keepers - Part Seven
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jaune_chat and brighteyed_jill
Art: byxkelorosiamano is at her graphics community.
Pairings: Every combination of Nathan and Peter Petrelli and Sam and Dean Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warning: See Part One for full list
Spoilers: Supernatural--though 4x16. Heroes--vague ones for Season 2
Authors' notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sncross_bigbang. Beta and color correction by the high-flyin' redandglenda
Summary: Sam and Dean discover demons have been possessing people with special abilities that have nothing to do with magic. Peter draws a future that reunites him and Nathan with the Winchester brothers. Together they find out that specials--people whose powers come from an unusual inherited gene-- are being targeted for possession by a woman who is on the verge of breaking one of the sixty-six seals.
Nathan was in the shower when Dean got back to their mildew-infested hotel room. Which was a damn shame, because Dean felt gritty and smoky, and all he wanted was to stand under a hot spray and relax.
Hustling pool wasn't particularly hard, even in a backwater like this, but it did require Dean to be on his guard. There was always the danger of some pissed-off local and his friends deciding that they didn't like the way this out-of-towner was taking their money. Tonight, though, things had been blessedly quiet, and Dean had walked out with enough cash in his pocket to pay for a roof over their heads and food for the next few days. After that, they'd have to figure something out. It wasn't as if Dean was a stranger to money troubles, or to earning his own way.
--
"Dean, the bus is gonna be here in five minutes, and there's no more cereal," Sam complained.
"Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious." Dean rummaged through the shelves in the kitchen of the latest shit-hole apartment, and eventually came up with a mostly-empty jar of peanut butter. "Eat this." He tossed it to Sam.
Sam opened the jar, and looked up at him with mournful puppy eyes. "There's no bread," he pointed out.
"God gave you fingers, Sammy. Use 'em." Dean left the kitchen to lock himself in the bedroom. After a minute of building up his courage, he grabbed the phone by the bed and dialed the latest number his dad had given him.
"Rio Grande Plaza Motel," said the woman who picked up. "What can I do for you?"
"John Winchester's room, please," Dean said.
Dean let the phone ring and ring, although he knew that if his dad didn't pick up after four, he wasn't likely to.
Sam pounded on the door to the bedroom. "Are you coming or what?" he called. "Bus is coming down the street!"
"Fuck off, Sam. I can get to school on my own."
On the other side of the door, Sam sighed. "Okay." The phone was still ringing in Dean's ear when Sam said, meekly. "Do we have any lunch money?"
"Jesus." Dean slammed down the phone and went to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and pushed aside ammo boxes until he found the sock with the last of their money inside. He poured it all out into his hand: $4.59. He opened the door and shoved the money at Sam. "Don't let anyone beat you up and take this, okay?"
Sam pocked the money. "Are we...?" He looked up at Dean with worried eyes that didn't belong in a face so young. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine, shorty." Dean punched his brother on the shoulder. "I'll see you later."
Sam nodded, appeased, and trotted off to catch the bus. Dean went and sat back down on the bed. He pulled the yellow pages out of the drawer in the nightstand, flipped to the auto repair section, and dialed a listing at random.
"Myron's 66," said the man who answered the phone.
"Yeah, hi," Dean said. "Are you hiring?"
--
Dean seriously doubted that Nathan had much experience with being short of money: not with his family's background, and not with man-of-a-thousand-tricks Peter as a brother, either. It did make Dean wonder what the hell Nathan had been up to while Dean had been out all night busting his ass to keep a roof over their heads.
There weren't any books out--all the research had been packed into the car they'd left behind--but Dean saw paper lying out on the room's small table. He went and picked up the first sheet, which was covered in cramped, precise writing.
Dear Heidi,
Please don't throw this letter away. It's your choice whether you want to give it to the boys now, or when they're older, but please give it to them. I need them to remember something about their father. Please.
Dean paused for a second, thinking perhaps he shouldn’t read. Then the brutally straightforward curiosity that led him to delve into the lives of hundreds of families, to find out their secrets so he could save their lives, took over.
Dear Heidi,
Please don't throw this letter away. It's your choice whether you want to give it to the boys now, or when they're older, but please give it to them. I need them to remember something about their father. Please.
While I’ve been out here, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Let me tell you what I’ve learned as simply as I can; I never loved you or the boys enough. I can’t make it right after all this time, but I want the boys to know that I do love them, as I love you, even though I can’t ever be there to say it to them.
I wanted to write to them to explain what I’ve managed to learn about myself, people, and life out here. My legacy, even if that’s sounds pretentious. Heidi, read this letter, don’t read it, keep it until the boys get older, give it to them now, burn it, whatever you feel you need to do.
I wish things could have been better.
I love you,
Nathan
Dean blinked, and turned the letter over, and found another underneath, this one addressed to Simon and Monty. His sons. Peter had mentioned their names before, even if he'd never heard Nathan say word one about them. When John Winchester had left Dean and Sam’s lives, it had been after giving them a lifetime of skills and experience as hunters. He had left them with a car, a trunk full of weapons, a journal, and a mission. In the end, he'd ransomed Dean's life at the cost of his own. And yeah, the thought hadn't really crossed Dean's mind before, but Nathan was sort of a crappy father. Suddenly, when Dean thought of long, crappy weeks alone when John was out on a job, even knowing John was coming back, Nathan seemed like even more of an ass than before. Pressed by more than curiosity, Dean read on, skimming through parts of the letter, to see what Nathan thought was so important to leave his sons.
Dear Simon and Monty…
…one thing I’ve learned is to never get into a losing fight. I know I told you two that you never want to get into a fight (and I know your mother will tell you the same thing), but sometimes a fight comes to you, even if you never did anything wrong. Remember to look out for each other. Simon, protect your younger brother. Monty, watch Simon’s back, and make sure people are fighting fair. Some people won’t be honest, and they might try dirty tricks. Be careful and on your guard…
…There’s nothing more important than family. Trust each other, and don’t lie. I know this sounds strange, because I’m not here, but know I love you both very much. Your uncle, my brother Peter, needed my help very badly, and I have to keep helping him, just like you need to help each other…
…Be careful whom you trust with your biggest secrets. If you tell everyone, then it’s not a secret anymore. If it’s a secret that could hurt you, then the chances are that someone will hurt you with it. Make sure you trust someone before letting them in…
…Know that you can choose to do anything. Your destiny is only what you make of it, and no one can tell you how to choose your own path. You can always make a choice, no matter what anyone says about it…
Love,
Daddy
Dean flipped through the letter, pages and pages of it, in Nathan’s cramped script. A father’s legacy to his sons, all written in plain black and white. Dean and Sam, at least, had grown up with their dad and knew he loved them, even if he had been crap about showing it. They hadn’t had much of a choice about their lives, but at least they’d grown up as a family. Nathan’s kids had a choice, but didn’t have their dad. Dean didn’t know what he’d pick, if he’d been asked…
A hand snatched the letter from Dean. "That's not for you." Nathan stood dripping wet, clutching a towel around his waist, and favoring Dean with an epic bitchface that would have made Sam proud. "When did you get back?"
Dean shrugged. "While ago." He pulled a roll of twenties out of his pocket. "Got us some walking around money."
Nathan grabbed the other papers off the desk, shuffling them into a messy pile. "Doing what? Hooking?"
Dean's temper flared at that, and he knew just how to hit back. "No. My dad was around to teach me better."
Nathan whirled around, and Dean suspected the only reason that he didn't get punched was because Nathan would have had to drop either the papers or his towel. "You don't know a thing about it," Nathan said instead, soft and menacing. He took his papers back into the bathroom with him and slammed the door.
--
The door slammed, and Dean sat up with a start from the kitchen table where he'd been resting his eyes. He jumped up and ran to the front door of their little apartment.
John Winchester was standing in the front hallway, holding a duffel bag bulging with weapons. "Dean," he said evenly.
"Whoa," Dean said. John was filthy dirty, his hair matted with mud, with blood leaking sluggishly from several cuts along his arms. He looked exhausted. "What the hell happened?"
"Hunt didn't go so well," John said.
Dean picked up the duffel bag and followed his dad into the kitchen. "You should have let me come with."
"No!" John snapped. Then, more gently. "No. I don't want you to..." He shook his head. "Did you take care of Sammy?"
"Yes sir. He's asleep."
"Good," John said. He dropped into one of the rickety chairs at the kitchen table, and pushed out the neighboring chair for Dean. "Listen," he said seriously. Dean sat down, ready to do just that. "I need to know I can count on you."
"Dad, I'm almost old enough to drive, and--."
"With Sammy," John interrupted. "If anything happens to me, I need to know that you can take care of Sammy."
That was a silly question. "Of course. Don't I always take care of him?"
"Hunters die, Dean."
Now things were getting really absurd. "Not the good ones," Dean said. He knew, from all the things John had taught him, how to be careful. How to do the job right. "Not if you--."
"Bullshit," John said. Restlessly, he heaved himself out of the chair and went to the cabinet, unerringly reaching for the half-empty bottle of whisky on the top shelf. "Sometimes even if they do everything right." He pulled a shot glass out of the cabinet, poured himself a shot, slammed it back, and poured another to take back to the table along with the bottle. "Like if they trust the wrong man to watch their back." He raised his glass in a mock salute before downing it. "Hunters die." He scrubbed his hand across his mouth.
"Someone died," Dean said slowly. "Another hunter."
"He has a daughter. Had," John said. "She's got her mom, but..." He toyed with the empty glass, but didn't pour himself another. Then he set the glass down firmly and scooted his chair closer to Dean. "You've got to swear to me, Dean. If anything happens to me, you've got to be the man of the house, for you and Sammy both. You keep him safe. Promise me."
"I promise."
--
“So…” Dean offered, as Nathan finally came out of the bathroom, fully armored in his freshly-cleaned clothes. “You got pictures?” It was as much of an olive branch as Dean could offer right now.
Nathan’s jaw worked once, but Dean was fairly certain he wasn’t going to get punched. This time at least.
With defiant swiftness, Nathan took out his wallet, plucked out a picture, and handed it to Dean. It showed an elegant woman with dark hair and pale eyes, sitting behind two brown-haired little boys in suits. Nathan stood behind them all, hands on the woman’s shoulders, smiling.
Dean bit back his initial response that Nathan’s wife was hot, because that would get him punched.
“Nice family,” he offered finally.
“Yeah. They’re better off without me.”
Dean stared. “There’s nothing more important than family.”
“Well, we’re living proof of that, aren’t we?” Nathan said acerbically, taking the picture back.
Dean shut his mouth and looked away. Nathan had left them, and Dean didn’t even need to ask for details. It was for Peter, of course. It was the same reason Dean had made the deal at the crossroads for Sam and bought himself forty years in hell.
“Where’d you go this morning?” he asked instead. They'd spend the day regrouping, cleaning up, getting the last supplies for exorcisms, checking the newspapers for signs, and generally laying low before Dean had gone to get them some more money.
“Mass. It’s Sunday.”
“You went to church?” Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped into a church for anything unrelated to a job.
Nathan sighed, and looked westward, towards Lake End, as if trying to stare through the wall. “Dean, Peter let himself get possessed, and Sam’s faking being evil while stepping into what you told me was a demon pit. The least I can do is ask for a little extra help for them.”
“We’re helping fine out here,” Dean said defensively. They were more than pulling their weight, with everything they were doing to deflect Caroline’s agents, shut down her recruiting, and stonewall the Company. It bothered Dean, on a fairly deep level, that Nathan felt the need to beg for divine aid too. After working his ass off for the Lord since he’d gotten out of hell, Dean couldn't help but be jaded about praying.
“I know,” Nathan said. “Just call it an old habit.”
Dean could only shake his head.
+++++
The next evening, Peter was still avoiding Sam. Presumably, he was finding out what he could around the house while Sam occupied Caroline, but they hadn't had a chance to talk, so who knew what Peter might have uncovered. In the early evening, Sam had finally decided to go look for him, and maybe offer an olive branch. The house was mostly empty, so Sam ventured out onto the grounds.
Outside, cicadas chirped, and birds sang, but there was no Peter to be found. As he was headed back to the house, he heard someone call his name.
"Sam!"
He turned around to see Caroline waving at him across the yard. Of course. No hope of sneaking a talk with Peter, then.
"Come on, honey," she called. "They're building a bonfire down by the lake." She waited for Sam to catch up, and then took his arm.
"Why do we need a bonfire?" Sam asked. "It's got to be ninety degrees out here."
"It's not to keep us warm, silly," Caroline explained. "It's for the sacrifice."
"What sacrifice?" Sam asked warily. Despite the humidity in the air, he was starting to feel cold.
"We're doing a little bit of magic. It's to keep us safe. I'm sure you understand that there are those who might not like what we're doing." She leaned closer to Sam's ear. "Angels," she whispered.
"Yeah. I know," Sam said darkly. As little as he wanted to be here, he couldn't help but sympathize with wanting to stay off Castiel and Uriel's radar.
"And other things, too. We need to keep this place invisible. Safe for me, and you, and all of our friends. Oh Sam!" She threw her arms around his neck. "Now that you're here, I'm sure everything will be wonderful. Don't you want to see what we're doing?"
"Yes I do." He gave her hand a friendly squeeze. "Show me everything."
"Well," Caroline said demurely. "A girl can't give up all her secrets at once."
"Of course not. But maybe I have a few tricks you haven't seen before."
"I'm counting on it."
All of Caroline's companions were gathered at the edge of the little lake that spread out into swamp land across the edge of the estate and beyond.
Rourke and Aaron were tending a blazing fire. Tamara, Peter, and a few others Sam recognized but couldn't call by name sat around on logs or folding chairs a respectable distance from the flames.
"Come on, now." Caroline pulled him toward the fire. The others stood up as she approached. She drew Sam to the edge of the circle, directly across from the lake, and whispered, "You'll do fine. Just follow my lead." She turned to her gathered minions.
"Good evening, friends," she said. "I've called you all here to help us with a little spell I've discovered that will make us all a little safer. But before we can do that, there's something else we need to discuss." She slid her hand into Sam's, and then proceeded to meet the eyes of each of the gathered demons, one by one.
"It's come to my attention that there is a traitor in our midst."
Sam fell very still. The world seemed to slide into slow motion. He looked first at Peter, who gave him a grim nod. Sam started to calculate the odds: how many of the possessed he could exorcise at once. How many Peter could take on his own. If he might have to kill any of the hosts, even after he'd exorcised the demons. What to do with Caroline. Whether he was about to die.
But Caroline was still talking. "I know that when I brought Sam Winchester into the fold, there were those of you who doubted my decision."
There were mutters of denial from the little crowd. "No, Caroline," and "We would never!" She held up a hand to shush them.
"One of you went so far as to go to our enemies, to those who want me dead, and tell them about our little family." She sounded genuinely hurt. Sam wondered if it would be better to act now, before she finished rallying her troops, or if Peter needed more time to prepare. Or if Peter was planning to go nuclear and kill them all, Sam included.
"Who is it?" Rourke shouted from the other side of the bonfire. "We'll kill them. Who, Caroline?"
"This person, who I thought was my friend, went to Lilith."
"Lilith?" From her spot in the circle, Tamara spoke up. She looked pale, even in the orange glow of the bonfire and the purple-tinged sunset. "Who would do such a thing?"
"Maybe someone who thinks Lilith might have a place for him in the new order of things. Isn't that right?" Caroline turned slowly to look at a tall, blond man on the near side of the bonfire. He was practically trembling. "Jonah?"
"I--I--I had to," he stammered.
"Sam," Caroline said softly. "Can you keep him with us?"
Almost before Sam had time to process the request, he saw smoke begin to escape from the man's mouth. Quickly, he flung out his hand. Though he'd never tried this before, he found that it was much like pulling a demon out of its body. Except the opposite.
Smoke flowed back into Jonah, and he was left blinking his black eyes and looking more than a little stunned.
"You won't be leaving so soon," Caroline said.
At once, Aaron and Tamara jumped at him, grabbing ahold of his arms. "Traitor!" Aaron shouted.
"Kill him!" Rourke called.
Caroline held up her hand again. "We don't want to just send him back to the pit," she said gently. "Where Lilith could easily call him again. But I think there's something you can do to redeem yourself, Jonah."
The others around the circle growled and grumbled at that.
"Please," Jonah sniveled. "Whatever you want."
Caroline turned to Sam with a wide smile on her face. "I read just the thing the other day. Peter darling?"
Peter picked up a book that had been sitting on a nearby stump, and trotted over to present it to Caroline. Sam carefully avoided eye contact with him. They'd come very close to their worst case scenario just now, and Sam wasn't convinced they were out of the woods yet. Anything they could do to avoid casting any suspicion on themselves until this blew over, they had to do.
Caroline opened her book and turned it to a page that looked vaguely familiar to Sam. Honestly, it was hard to tell, what with the alphabet being completely incomprehensible. He thought some of the characters on this page might have looked a little familiar.
"I told you that most of the spells that protect us are bound to the land," she began. She was speaking to Sam, but obviously these words were for the others' benefit as well, for they were listening raptly. "The ancient ways are very tied to the earth. But I've been thinking that if we could turn the water here to our will, things might be a little more secure. Of course, the problem with this spell is that it requires permanently binding a demon into the water itself."
"What?" Jonah said. "No, Caroline, please--." Tamara hit him in the face, and he piped down.
"Of course there's a certain trade-off," she explained. "The demon's really just a slave to the spell, not really sentient anymore. It's nothing I would ever do to one of my friends," she said, patting Sam on the arm. Perhaps it was just the deep shadows cast by the flickering bonfire, but it was the first time Sam had seen her look angry. She turned to look at Jonah. "But I don't like you anymore," she said. "You're not my friend."
"Please..." Jonah whined. Tamara hit him again.
"Sam." Caroline linked her arm through his and held up the book. "I'll perform the spell, but I need your help to draw his spirit out of the body and cast it into the water. You think you can do that?"
Sam looked over at Jonah, and accidentally caught a glimpse of Peter, who was standing off to the side, stone-faced. He turned back to Caroline. "I think so."
"Good man," she said brightly. She began to read from the book. After only a few words, the lake beyond the fire began to bubble. The demons standing closest to it edged away.
Sam reached out his hand toward Jonah, and concentrated on drawing out the demon. Jonah's body went stiff and still as Sam began to work his mojo. Aaron and Tamara let go of him and backed off, watching in horror and fascination.
Caroline kept reading, and Sam felt an energy, some sort of mystic force--definitely not anything that could be called divine, or even benign--reaching out from the water. He held on tight to the traitor demon, and concentrated on channeling him toward the water's energy.
That's when Jonah began screaming: a horrible, desperate noise that sounded as if he was being ripped limb from limb.
No demon Sam had exorcised had sounded like that. Sure, they shouted curses, they screamed their rage and frustration, but none had ever sounded quite so pained or downright terrified as this one. The other demons were shrinking away to the edges of the light, as if afraid to be swept up in Sam's wrath.
Sam felt a sudden giddy elation as he watched them shrink from him. He was powerful, after all. He was doing things were he hadn't known he was capable of, and the demons feared him. He began walking forward, backing Jonah toward the lake as he went. The demon's pained screaming continued as he was forced back into the shallow, brackish water.
Behind Sam, Caroline shouted the last words of the rite. The lake foamed into a fury. Jonah shrieked once more, and then was pulled under the waves. Immediately the lake went unnaturally still, like glass.
In the suddenly tranquil water of the lake, Sam caught a glimpse of his reflection. His eyes held a little fleck of yellow.
+++++
Caroline had been overjoyed at Sam's performance. She'd told him so, she'd toasted to him, and she'd mentioned it at frequent intervals as the evening wore on.
Caroline's friends, drunk with love of her, of each other, and perhaps relief at not having fallen victim to Sam, had begun to give in to the pleasures of the flesh.
Sam was standing at the edge of the lake, watching the last of the sun set, when he saw Peter sidle up to Caroline a little ways away. He drew closer to overhear them.
"I don't think Sam enjoys an audience, to be honest," he was saying sheepishly. "But I don't want to take away the hero of the hour."
"Oh Peter," Caroline said indulgently. "Someone's got to look out for our Sam." She turned, caught sight of him, and held out her hand to motion him over. "Peter said you two might want to take a walk." She reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You've certainly earned a little recreation. You were magnificent tonight, Sam." She gave him one more kiss before moving along.
Sam was surprised at how proud her praise made him feel. No one had ever praised him for these abilities, except perhaps Ruby, in her own backwards way. All he ever heard from Dean on this account was criticism, or admonitions to stop, or plain old bitching. It was nice that someone remembered his powers were actually useful.
Peter grabbed Sam's hand wordlessly and pulled him off down a trail into the bayou. They walked in silence until the sounds of laughter and talking faded behind them.
Peter finally dropped Sam's hand, but he kept walking, trusting him to follow. "Guess that's one of these poor bastards who won't go home to his family."
"What exactly did you want me to do?" Sam asked.
Peter kept walking in silence for a few more minutes, then asked, "Are you keeping it together?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean you're enjoying this a little too much."
"You think I enjoy letting Caroline paw me and watching them hurt people, and helping them with magic that does who-the-hell-knows?"
"I think you like the way they make you feel."
"They make me feel a little nauseous."
"That's not what it looks like from here."
"Well I'm sorry that I'm too demon messiah for you, but that's what I am, and that's the reason you're not getting eviscerated in some ancient ritual right now, and--"
"Ah!" Peter dropped to one knee, clutching his head.
"What?" Sam crouched down beside him in concern.
"It's the demon. It seems like the longer he's in my body, the easier it is for him to fight."
"Damn. We may have to speed up our timetable." Sam stood up and squinted back toward the edge of the lake, where he could still hear the sounds of the revelers. "If I go take one of Caroline's pals aside, I can use this new trick I've been learning. It's--."
"Sam, no." Peter lurched to his feet. "He wants me to kneel to you."
"Come again?"
"The demon. Vetis. He wants me to kneel down in worship. Doesn't that tell you anything?"
"That you should listen to me?" Sam grumbled.
"No. That a demon likes what you're doing."
"He's just messing with you, Peter. I'm doing what I have to do. I seem to remember you being on board with this plan."
"I didn't know it was going to be like this."
"Like what?"
"Listen," Peter said intently. He took Sam by the arm and leaned in close. "The more I use my abilities, the better I can control them. With you, it's the opposite. Every time you use your powers, you lose a bit more of yourself."
Sam's anger simmered closer to the surface. He clenched his fists at his sides and reminded himself that he shouldn't hit Peter. "I'm playing a role. If this is going to work, they have to believe I'm one of them."
"And it's just a bonus that you have a tribe of demons worshiping you."
"I didn't ask to be this way. My blood--"
"That's not what I'm talking about," Peter argued. "I can read minds, Sam. I know how Dean feels about these powers of yours, and I know that pisses you off."
"You have no right--."
"You like being in charge for once. Being the powerful one. A little out of control, a little violent. That's always been Dean, not you. You've always had to be the one to rein him in. But you don't have to be the prudent one anymore. Little brother's growing up. You've seen the wonders of the world, and you know you're strong enough to take them."
"You don't know what it's like, Peter. Don't pretend you do." Sam set off down the path, but Peter came trailing along behind him.
"I know what it's like to feel like you're a god. You want worshipers? You want people to bow to your every word?"
"I want you to stop lecturing me and let me handle this!"
Peter stopped in his tracks. A violent spasm ran from him, head to toe. Then Peter dropped to his knees right there and pressed his forehead to the damp moss.
"Stop fucking around," Sam snapped. "You made your point." He grabbed Peter's arm to pull him upright, and Peter went unresisting.
"Seriously, Peter, what--." Sam's admonishment died on his lips when the moonlight spilled onto Peter's face, revealing eyes that were solid black.
"Peter?" Sam said faintly.
"Peter's not driving any more," said the demon. He looked up at Sam through Peter's long, lovely lashes. "And you should be glad I did you that favor."
Sam grabbed him hard by the arm. "Listen. You had better hand the reins back right now. You saw what I did to Jonah? I can do worse."
The demon closed his eyes and shuddered in what seemed to be ecstasy. "Sam, you don't know what that does to me. Peter doesn't understand. He's holding you back. What has he been doing since you came here, anyway, hm? While you've been learning all you can from Caroline, he just wanders around. And then has the nerve to be critical of you when you do your job." The demon leaned into him, and he recalled with sudden, visceral intensity, Ruby doing the same thing with Peter's body.
Sam shoved him away. "Let Peter back out. Now."
The demon sank to his knees. "Is that what you want? Someone to keep you in line?" He shook his head. "Honestly, I'm disappointed. I thought you were someone who might be able to challenge Lilith. That's why Caroline called me, you know. I'm not Lilith's biggest fan. I believe in you, Sam Winchester. I believe that if anyone can oppose Lilith, it's you."
"I don't need your faith," Sam snapped.
"Of course, if you keep not using your powers..." He shrugged. "But tonight was such a great start. It's been so painful, not being able to act, having to watch poor little Peter mope about and harp at you. I can help you, Sam. I can! In this body, I have all of Peter's powers at my disposal. And I'm not as weak as he is." He slid closer to Sam, and pressed his head against Sam's leg. "He can't even use all his powers. My control is much better than his. I'm a better weapon, Sam, and I'm at your disposal."
"You're a demon," Sam said, pushing Peter off of him.
Peter fell to the ground, but he looked up at Sam from that position pleadingly. His wide eyes made him look like a lost child. "And you're the demon messiah, Sam. Who do you think your allies will be? Not people like Peter, I assure you. I know what he's thinking. One more little stunt like tonight, and he'll get in touch with Dean."
"Dean can't come here. We're not ready yet."
"Well, I know that," the demon said. He rose gracefully to his feet and sidled back up to Sam. "But you know Peter only sees in black and white. Funny, that. He doesn't seem to mind Dean's dark side."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam knew he shouldn't be listening to this, but he'd be lying if he said he'd never wondered what things were like between Peter and Dean.
"Oh, I've been trapped in here a couple days now," the demon said slowly. "I've learned some very interesting things about Peter and your brother. What Peter likes... What your brother likes... Dean's pretty dead-set against you using your natural talents, but he's not shy about letting out his own dark side. At least, not when he's with Peter."
"What are you talking about?"
The demon pressed into Sam again, rubbing against him like a cat, and Sam didn't have the presence of mind to protest. "Dean had a rough time in hell. He'd never tell you about it. He doesn't want to...upset you. But he uses Peter in a way he'd never use you."
The demon slid his hand down Sam's chest. "He needs to hurt someone. To give into those urges he feels. But he doesn't think you're strong enough to take it. Peter is, though. He's strong. Dean trusts him. Dean likes to use him."
Sam's hand was flying before he realized it. His backhand connected with a sharp crack that sent the demon falling to the ground. He turned back to Sam, licked the blood off Peter's lips, and smiled. "I see why you're mad. Dean and Peter are always taking the high ground against you. So judgmental of you, when you're just trying to win a war. Let me help you, Sam. I'll do what you say. I'll follow you. I could be so good for you."
Sam felt hollow. Demons lied, he knew that. But worse, demons told truths that hurt. He stepped forward and stretched his hand out toward the demon. He knew he couldn't exorcise it, not with the binding link in place, but he might be able to help Peter regain control. He reached for the demon, squeezing with all his power.
"No!" The demon writhed on the ground, moaning piteously. "Please, Sam. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me. Sam! Sam, no!"
Then with a sudden cry, Peter sat up. Sam crouched next to him. "Is it you?"
"Yeah." Peter's voice sounded strangely hoarse. He wouldn't look Sam in the eye. "It's me." He lurched ungracefully to his feet.
Sam caught him by the arm before he could pitch over into the swamp. "You got it under control?"
"Yeah," he said softly. "It won't happen again. Thanks."
Sam didn't let go. "Was he lying?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I deserve to know," Sam said sharply.
Peter shook his head. "I don't ask about you and Nathan. I don't talk to Nathan about it, either. Whatever he needs from you... It's none of my business. Just..." he wandered a couple steps away, down the path. "I warned you. Vetis thinks you're just great, Sam. I'd be worried about that if I were you." He walked away toward the house.
Sam watched him go with a mixture of resentment and trepidation, then returned to the bonfire.
Next part
Previous part
Master Post
Authors:
jaune_chat and brighteyed_jillArt: by
xkelorosiamano is at her graphics community.Pairings: Every combination of Nathan and Peter Petrelli and Sam and Dean Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warning: See Part One for full list
Spoilers: Supernatural--though 4x16. Heroes--vague ones for Season 2
Authors' notes: Written for
sncross_bigbang. Beta and color correction by the high-flyin' redandglendaSummary: Sam and Dean discover demons have been possessing people with special abilities that have nothing to do with magic. Peter draws a future that reunites him and Nathan with the Winchester brothers. Together they find out that specials--people whose powers come from an unusual inherited gene-- are being targeted for possession by a woman who is on the verge of breaking one of the sixty-six seals.
Nathan was in the shower when Dean got back to their mildew-infested hotel room. Which was a damn shame, because Dean felt gritty and smoky, and all he wanted was to stand under a hot spray and relax.
Hustling pool wasn't particularly hard, even in a backwater like this, but it did require Dean to be on his guard. There was always the danger of some pissed-off local and his friends deciding that they didn't like the way this out-of-towner was taking their money. Tonight, though, things had been blessedly quiet, and Dean had walked out with enough cash in his pocket to pay for a roof over their heads and food for the next few days. After that, they'd have to figure something out. It wasn't as if Dean was a stranger to money troubles, or to earning his own way.
--
"Dean, the bus is gonna be here in five minutes, and there's no more cereal," Sam complained.
"Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious." Dean rummaged through the shelves in the kitchen of the latest shit-hole apartment, and eventually came up with a mostly-empty jar of peanut butter. "Eat this." He tossed it to Sam.
Sam opened the jar, and looked up at him with mournful puppy eyes. "There's no bread," he pointed out.
"God gave you fingers, Sammy. Use 'em." Dean left the kitchen to lock himself in the bedroom. After a minute of building up his courage, he grabbed the phone by the bed and dialed the latest number his dad had given him.
"Rio Grande Plaza Motel," said the woman who picked up. "What can I do for you?"
"John Winchester's room, please," Dean said.
Dean let the phone ring and ring, although he knew that if his dad didn't pick up after four, he wasn't likely to.
Sam pounded on the door to the bedroom. "Are you coming or what?" he called. "Bus is coming down the street!"
"Fuck off, Sam. I can get to school on my own."
On the other side of the door, Sam sighed. "Okay." The phone was still ringing in Dean's ear when Sam said, meekly. "Do we have any lunch money?"
"Jesus." Dean slammed down the phone and went to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and pushed aside ammo boxes until he found the sock with the last of their money inside. He poured it all out into his hand: $4.59. He opened the door and shoved the money at Sam. "Don't let anyone beat you up and take this, okay?"
Sam pocked the money. "Are we...?" He looked up at Dean with worried eyes that didn't belong in a face so young. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine, shorty." Dean punched his brother on the shoulder. "I'll see you later."
Sam nodded, appeased, and trotted off to catch the bus. Dean went and sat back down on the bed. He pulled the yellow pages out of the drawer in the nightstand, flipped to the auto repair section, and dialed a listing at random.
"Myron's 66," said the man who answered the phone.
"Yeah, hi," Dean said. "Are you hiring?"
--
Dean seriously doubted that Nathan had much experience with being short of money: not with his family's background, and not with man-of-a-thousand-tricks Peter as a brother, either. It did make Dean wonder what the hell Nathan had been up to while Dean had been out all night busting his ass to keep a roof over their heads.
There weren't any books out--all the research had been packed into the car they'd left behind--but Dean saw paper lying out on the room's small table. He went and picked up the first sheet, which was covered in cramped, precise writing.
Dear Heidi,
Please don't throw this letter away. It's your choice whether you want to give it to the boys now, or when they're older, but please give it to them. I need them to remember something about their father. Please.
Dean paused for a second, thinking perhaps he shouldn’t read. Then the brutally straightforward curiosity that led him to delve into the lives of hundreds of families, to find out their secrets so he could save their lives, took over.
Dear Heidi,
Please don't throw this letter away. It's your choice whether you want to give it to the boys now, or when they're older, but please give it to them. I need them to remember something about their father. Please.
While I’ve been out here, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Let me tell you what I’ve learned as simply as I can; I never loved you or the boys enough. I can’t make it right after all this time, but I want the boys to know that I do love them, as I love you, even though I can’t ever be there to say it to them.
I wanted to write to them to explain what I’ve managed to learn about myself, people, and life out here. My legacy, even if that’s sounds pretentious. Heidi, read this letter, don’t read it, keep it until the boys get older, give it to them now, burn it, whatever you feel you need to do.
I wish things could have been better.
I love you,
Nathan
Dean blinked, and turned the letter over, and found another underneath, this one addressed to Simon and Monty. His sons. Peter had mentioned their names before, even if he'd never heard Nathan say word one about them. When John Winchester had left Dean and Sam’s lives, it had been after giving them a lifetime of skills and experience as hunters. He had left them with a car, a trunk full of weapons, a journal, and a mission. In the end, he'd ransomed Dean's life at the cost of his own. And yeah, the thought hadn't really crossed Dean's mind before, but Nathan was sort of a crappy father. Suddenly, when Dean thought of long, crappy weeks alone when John was out on a job, even knowing John was coming back, Nathan seemed like even more of an ass than before. Pressed by more than curiosity, Dean read on, skimming through parts of the letter, to see what Nathan thought was so important to leave his sons.
Dear Simon and Monty…
…one thing I’ve learned is to never get into a losing fight. I know I told you two that you never want to get into a fight (and I know your mother will tell you the same thing), but sometimes a fight comes to you, even if you never did anything wrong. Remember to look out for each other. Simon, protect your younger brother. Monty, watch Simon’s back, and make sure people are fighting fair. Some people won’t be honest, and they might try dirty tricks. Be careful and on your guard…
…There’s nothing more important than family. Trust each other, and don’t lie. I know this sounds strange, because I’m not here, but know I love you both very much. Your uncle, my brother Peter, needed my help very badly, and I have to keep helping him, just like you need to help each other…
…Be careful whom you trust with your biggest secrets. If you tell everyone, then it’s not a secret anymore. If it’s a secret that could hurt you, then the chances are that someone will hurt you with it. Make sure you trust someone before letting them in…
…Know that you can choose to do anything. Your destiny is only what you make of it, and no one can tell you how to choose your own path. You can always make a choice, no matter what anyone says about it…
Love,
Daddy
Dean flipped through the letter, pages and pages of it, in Nathan’s cramped script. A father’s legacy to his sons, all written in plain black and white. Dean and Sam, at least, had grown up with their dad and knew he loved them, even if he had been crap about showing it. They hadn’t had much of a choice about their lives, but at least they’d grown up as a family. Nathan’s kids had a choice, but didn’t have their dad. Dean didn’t know what he’d pick, if he’d been asked…
A hand snatched the letter from Dean. "That's not for you." Nathan stood dripping wet, clutching a towel around his waist, and favoring Dean with an epic bitchface that would have made Sam proud. "When did you get back?"
Dean shrugged. "While ago." He pulled a roll of twenties out of his pocket. "Got us some walking around money."
Nathan grabbed the other papers off the desk, shuffling them into a messy pile. "Doing what? Hooking?"
Dean's temper flared at that, and he knew just how to hit back. "No. My dad was around to teach me better."
Nathan whirled around, and Dean suspected the only reason that he didn't get punched was because Nathan would have had to drop either the papers or his towel. "You don't know a thing about it," Nathan said instead, soft and menacing. He took his papers back into the bathroom with him and slammed the door.
--
The door slammed, and Dean sat up with a start from the kitchen table where he'd been resting his eyes. He jumped up and ran to the front door of their little apartment.
John Winchester was standing in the front hallway, holding a duffel bag bulging with weapons. "Dean," he said evenly.
"Whoa," Dean said. John was filthy dirty, his hair matted with mud, with blood leaking sluggishly from several cuts along his arms. He looked exhausted. "What the hell happened?"
"Hunt didn't go so well," John said.
Dean picked up the duffel bag and followed his dad into the kitchen. "You should have let me come with."
"No!" John snapped. Then, more gently. "No. I don't want you to..." He shook his head. "Did you take care of Sammy?"
"Yes sir. He's asleep."
"Good," John said. He dropped into one of the rickety chairs at the kitchen table, and pushed out the neighboring chair for Dean. "Listen," he said seriously. Dean sat down, ready to do just that. "I need to know I can count on you."
"Dad, I'm almost old enough to drive, and--."
"With Sammy," John interrupted. "If anything happens to me, I need to know that you can take care of Sammy."
That was a silly question. "Of course. Don't I always take care of him?"
"Hunters die, Dean."
Now things were getting really absurd. "Not the good ones," Dean said. He knew, from all the things John had taught him, how to be careful. How to do the job right. "Not if you--."
"Bullshit," John said. Restlessly, he heaved himself out of the chair and went to the cabinet, unerringly reaching for the half-empty bottle of whisky on the top shelf. "Sometimes even if they do everything right." He pulled a shot glass out of the cabinet, poured himself a shot, slammed it back, and poured another to take back to the table along with the bottle. "Like if they trust the wrong man to watch their back." He raised his glass in a mock salute before downing it. "Hunters die." He scrubbed his hand across his mouth.
"Someone died," Dean said slowly. "Another hunter."
"He has a daughter. Had," John said. "She's got her mom, but..." He toyed with the empty glass, but didn't pour himself another. Then he set the glass down firmly and scooted his chair closer to Dean. "You've got to swear to me, Dean. If anything happens to me, you've got to be the man of the house, for you and Sammy both. You keep him safe. Promise me."
"I promise."
--
“So…” Dean offered, as Nathan finally came out of the bathroom, fully armored in his freshly-cleaned clothes. “You got pictures?” It was as much of an olive branch as Dean could offer right now.
Nathan’s jaw worked once, but Dean was fairly certain he wasn’t going to get punched. This time at least.
With defiant swiftness, Nathan took out his wallet, plucked out a picture, and handed it to Dean. It showed an elegant woman with dark hair and pale eyes, sitting behind two brown-haired little boys in suits. Nathan stood behind them all, hands on the woman’s shoulders, smiling.
Dean bit back his initial response that Nathan’s wife was hot, because that would get him punched.
“Nice family,” he offered finally.
“Yeah. They’re better off without me.”
Dean stared. “There’s nothing more important than family.”
“Well, we’re living proof of that, aren’t we?” Nathan said acerbically, taking the picture back.
Dean shut his mouth and looked away. Nathan had left them, and Dean didn’t even need to ask for details. It was for Peter, of course. It was the same reason Dean had made the deal at the crossroads for Sam and bought himself forty years in hell.
“Where’d you go this morning?” he asked instead. They'd spend the day regrouping, cleaning up, getting the last supplies for exorcisms, checking the newspapers for signs, and generally laying low before Dean had gone to get them some more money.
“Mass. It’s Sunday.”
“You went to church?” Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped into a church for anything unrelated to a job.
Nathan sighed, and looked westward, towards Lake End, as if trying to stare through the wall. “Dean, Peter let himself get possessed, and Sam’s faking being evil while stepping into what you told me was a demon pit. The least I can do is ask for a little extra help for them.”
“We’re helping fine out here,” Dean said defensively. They were more than pulling their weight, with everything they were doing to deflect Caroline’s agents, shut down her recruiting, and stonewall the Company. It bothered Dean, on a fairly deep level, that Nathan felt the need to beg for divine aid too. After working his ass off for the Lord since he’d gotten out of hell, Dean couldn't help but be jaded about praying.
“I know,” Nathan said. “Just call it an old habit.”
Dean could only shake his head.
+++++
The next evening, Peter was still avoiding Sam. Presumably, he was finding out what he could around the house while Sam occupied Caroline, but they hadn't had a chance to talk, so who knew what Peter might have uncovered. In the early evening, Sam had finally decided to go look for him, and maybe offer an olive branch. The house was mostly empty, so Sam ventured out onto the grounds.
Outside, cicadas chirped, and birds sang, but there was no Peter to be found. As he was headed back to the house, he heard someone call his name.
"Sam!"
He turned around to see Caroline waving at him across the yard. Of course. No hope of sneaking a talk with Peter, then.
"Come on, honey," she called. "They're building a bonfire down by the lake." She waited for Sam to catch up, and then took his arm.
"Why do we need a bonfire?" Sam asked. "It's got to be ninety degrees out here."
"It's not to keep us warm, silly," Caroline explained. "It's for the sacrifice."
"What sacrifice?" Sam asked warily. Despite the humidity in the air, he was starting to feel cold.
"We're doing a little bit of magic. It's to keep us safe. I'm sure you understand that there are those who might not like what we're doing." She leaned closer to Sam's ear. "Angels," she whispered.
"Yeah. I know," Sam said darkly. As little as he wanted to be here, he couldn't help but sympathize with wanting to stay off Castiel and Uriel's radar.
"And other things, too. We need to keep this place invisible. Safe for me, and you, and all of our friends. Oh Sam!" She threw her arms around his neck. "Now that you're here, I'm sure everything will be wonderful. Don't you want to see what we're doing?"
"Yes I do." He gave her hand a friendly squeeze. "Show me everything."
"Well," Caroline said demurely. "A girl can't give up all her secrets at once."
"Of course not. But maybe I have a few tricks you haven't seen before."
"I'm counting on it."
All of Caroline's companions were gathered at the edge of the little lake that spread out into swamp land across the edge of the estate and beyond.
Rourke and Aaron were tending a blazing fire. Tamara, Peter, and a few others Sam recognized but couldn't call by name sat around on logs or folding chairs a respectable distance from the flames.
"Come on, now." Caroline pulled him toward the fire. The others stood up as she approached. She drew Sam to the edge of the circle, directly across from the lake, and whispered, "You'll do fine. Just follow my lead." She turned to her gathered minions.
"Good evening, friends," she said. "I've called you all here to help us with a little spell I've discovered that will make us all a little safer. But before we can do that, there's something else we need to discuss." She slid her hand into Sam's, and then proceeded to meet the eyes of each of the gathered demons, one by one.
"It's come to my attention that there is a traitor in our midst."
Sam fell very still. The world seemed to slide into slow motion. He looked first at Peter, who gave him a grim nod. Sam started to calculate the odds: how many of the possessed he could exorcise at once. How many Peter could take on his own. If he might have to kill any of the hosts, even after he'd exorcised the demons. What to do with Caroline. Whether he was about to die.
But Caroline was still talking. "I know that when I brought Sam Winchester into the fold, there were those of you who doubted my decision."
There were mutters of denial from the little crowd. "No, Caroline," and "We would never!" She held up a hand to shush them.
"One of you went so far as to go to our enemies, to those who want me dead, and tell them about our little family." She sounded genuinely hurt. Sam wondered if it would be better to act now, before she finished rallying her troops, or if Peter needed more time to prepare. Or if Peter was planning to go nuclear and kill them all, Sam included.
"Who is it?" Rourke shouted from the other side of the bonfire. "We'll kill them. Who, Caroline?"
"This person, who I thought was my friend, went to Lilith."
"Lilith?" From her spot in the circle, Tamara spoke up. She looked pale, even in the orange glow of the bonfire and the purple-tinged sunset. "Who would do such a thing?"
"Maybe someone who thinks Lilith might have a place for him in the new order of things. Isn't that right?" Caroline turned slowly to look at a tall, blond man on the near side of the bonfire. He was practically trembling. "Jonah?"
"I--I--I had to," he stammered.
"Sam," Caroline said softly. "Can you keep him with us?"
Almost before Sam had time to process the request, he saw smoke begin to escape from the man's mouth. Quickly, he flung out his hand. Though he'd never tried this before, he found that it was much like pulling a demon out of its body. Except the opposite.
Smoke flowed back into Jonah, and he was left blinking his black eyes and looking more than a little stunned.
"You won't be leaving so soon," Caroline said.
At once, Aaron and Tamara jumped at him, grabbing ahold of his arms. "Traitor!" Aaron shouted.
"Kill him!" Rourke called.
Caroline held up her hand again. "We don't want to just send him back to the pit," she said gently. "Where Lilith could easily call him again. But I think there's something you can do to redeem yourself, Jonah."
The others around the circle growled and grumbled at that.
"Please," Jonah sniveled. "Whatever you want."
Caroline turned to Sam with a wide smile on her face. "I read just the thing the other day. Peter darling?"
Peter picked up a book that had been sitting on a nearby stump, and trotted over to present it to Caroline. Sam carefully avoided eye contact with him. They'd come very close to their worst case scenario just now, and Sam wasn't convinced they were out of the woods yet. Anything they could do to avoid casting any suspicion on themselves until this blew over, they had to do.
Caroline opened her book and turned it to a page that looked vaguely familiar to Sam. Honestly, it was hard to tell, what with the alphabet being completely incomprehensible. He thought some of the characters on this page might have looked a little familiar.
"I told you that most of the spells that protect us are bound to the land," she began. She was speaking to Sam, but obviously these words were for the others' benefit as well, for they were listening raptly. "The ancient ways are very tied to the earth. But I've been thinking that if we could turn the water here to our will, things might be a little more secure. Of course, the problem with this spell is that it requires permanently binding a demon into the water itself."
"What?" Jonah said. "No, Caroline, please--." Tamara hit him in the face, and he piped down.
"Of course there's a certain trade-off," she explained. "The demon's really just a slave to the spell, not really sentient anymore. It's nothing I would ever do to one of my friends," she said, patting Sam on the arm. Perhaps it was just the deep shadows cast by the flickering bonfire, but it was the first time Sam had seen her look angry. She turned to look at Jonah. "But I don't like you anymore," she said. "You're not my friend."
"Please..." Jonah whined. Tamara hit him again.
"Sam." Caroline linked her arm through his and held up the book. "I'll perform the spell, but I need your help to draw his spirit out of the body and cast it into the water. You think you can do that?"
Sam looked over at Jonah, and accidentally caught a glimpse of Peter, who was standing off to the side, stone-faced. He turned back to Caroline. "I think so."
"Good man," she said brightly. She began to read from the book. After only a few words, the lake beyond the fire began to bubble. The demons standing closest to it edged away.
Sam reached out his hand toward Jonah, and concentrated on drawing out the demon. Jonah's body went stiff and still as Sam began to work his mojo. Aaron and Tamara let go of him and backed off, watching in horror and fascination.
Caroline kept reading, and Sam felt an energy, some sort of mystic force--definitely not anything that could be called divine, or even benign--reaching out from the water. He held on tight to the traitor demon, and concentrated on channeling him toward the water's energy.
That's when Jonah began screaming: a horrible, desperate noise that sounded as if he was being ripped limb from limb.
No demon Sam had exorcised had sounded like that. Sure, they shouted curses, they screamed their rage and frustration, but none had ever sounded quite so pained or downright terrified as this one. The other demons were shrinking away to the edges of the light, as if afraid to be swept up in Sam's wrath.
Sam felt a sudden giddy elation as he watched them shrink from him. He was powerful, after all. He was doing things were he hadn't known he was capable of, and the demons feared him. He began walking forward, backing Jonah toward the lake as he went. The demon's pained screaming continued as he was forced back into the shallow, brackish water.
Behind Sam, Caroline shouted the last words of the rite. The lake foamed into a fury. Jonah shrieked once more, and then was pulled under the waves. Immediately the lake went unnaturally still, like glass.
In the suddenly tranquil water of the lake, Sam caught a glimpse of his reflection. His eyes held a little fleck of yellow.
+++++
Caroline had been overjoyed at Sam's performance. She'd told him so, she'd toasted to him, and she'd mentioned it at frequent intervals as the evening wore on.
Caroline's friends, drunk with love of her, of each other, and perhaps relief at not having fallen victim to Sam, had begun to give in to the pleasures of the flesh.
Sam was standing at the edge of the lake, watching the last of the sun set, when he saw Peter sidle up to Caroline a little ways away. He drew closer to overhear them.
"I don't think Sam enjoys an audience, to be honest," he was saying sheepishly. "But I don't want to take away the hero of the hour."
"Oh Peter," Caroline said indulgently. "Someone's got to look out for our Sam." She turned, caught sight of him, and held out her hand to motion him over. "Peter said you two might want to take a walk." She reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You've certainly earned a little recreation. You were magnificent tonight, Sam." She gave him one more kiss before moving along.
Sam was surprised at how proud her praise made him feel. No one had ever praised him for these abilities, except perhaps Ruby, in her own backwards way. All he ever heard from Dean on this account was criticism, or admonitions to stop, or plain old bitching. It was nice that someone remembered his powers were actually useful.
Peter grabbed Sam's hand wordlessly and pulled him off down a trail into the bayou. They walked in silence until the sounds of laughter and talking faded behind them.
Peter finally dropped Sam's hand, but he kept walking, trusting him to follow. "Guess that's one of these poor bastards who won't go home to his family."
"What exactly did you want me to do?" Sam asked.
Peter kept walking in silence for a few more minutes, then asked, "Are you keeping it together?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean you're enjoying this a little too much."
"You think I enjoy letting Caroline paw me and watching them hurt people, and helping them with magic that does who-the-hell-knows?"
"I think you like the way they make you feel."
"They make me feel a little nauseous."
"That's not what it looks like from here."
"Well I'm sorry that I'm too demon messiah for you, but that's what I am, and that's the reason you're not getting eviscerated in some ancient ritual right now, and--"
"Ah!" Peter dropped to one knee, clutching his head.
"What?" Sam crouched down beside him in concern.
"It's the demon. It seems like the longer he's in my body, the easier it is for him to fight."
"Damn. We may have to speed up our timetable." Sam stood up and squinted back toward the edge of the lake, where he could still hear the sounds of the revelers. "If I go take one of Caroline's pals aside, I can use this new trick I've been learning. It's--."
"Sam, no." Peter lurched to his feet. "He wants me to kneel to you."
"Come again?"
"The demon. Vetis. He wants me to kneel down in worship. Doesn't that tell you anything?"
"That you should listen to me?" Sam grumbled.
"No. That a demon likes what you're doing."
"He's just messing with you, Peter. I'm doing what I have to do. I seem to remember you being on board with this plan."
"I didn't know it was going to be like this."
"Like what?"
"Listen," Peter said intently. He took Sam by the arm and leaned in close. "The more I use my abilities, the better I can control them. With you, it's the opposite. Every time you use your powers, you lose a bit more of yourself."
Sam's anger simmered closer to the surface. He clenched his fists at his sides and reminded himself that he shouldn't hit Peter. "I'm playing a role. If this is going to work, they have to believe I'm one of them."
"And it's just a bonus that you have a tribe of demons worshiping you."
"I didn't ask to be this way. My blood--"
"That's not what I'm talking about," Peter argued. "I can read minds, Sam. I know how Dean feels about these powers of yours, and I know that pisses you off."
"You have no right--."
"You like being in charge for once. Being the powerful one. A little out of control, a little violent. That's always been Dean, not you. You've always had to be the one to rein him in. But you don't have to be the prudent one anymore. Little brother's growing up. You've seen the wonders of the world, and you know you're strong enough to take them."
"You don't know what it's like, Peter. Don't pretend you do." Sam set off down the path, but Peter came trailing along behind him.
"I know what it's like to feel like you're a god. You want worshipers? You want people to bow to your every word?"
"I want you to stop lecturing me and let me handle this!"
Peter stopped in his tracks. A violent spasm ran from him, head to toe. Then Peter dropped to his knees right there and pressed his forehead to the damp moss.
"Stop fucking around," Sam snapped. "You made your point." He grabbed Peter's arm to pull him upright, and Peter went unresisting.
"Seriously, Peter, what--." Sam's admonishment died on his lips when the moonlight spilled onto Peter's face, revealing eyes that were solid black.
"Peter?" Sam said faintly.
"Peter's not driving any more," said the demon. He looked up at Sam through Peter's long, lovely lashes. "And you should be glad I did you that favor."
Sam grabbed him hard by the arm. "Listen. You had better hand the reins back right now. You saw what I did to Jonah? I can do worse."
The demon closed his eyes and shuddered in what seemed to be ecstasy. "Sam, you don't know what that does to me. Peter doesn't understand. He's holding you back. What has he been doing since you came here, anyway, hm? While you've been learning all you can from Caroline, he just wanders around. And then has the nerve to be critical of you when you do your job." The demon leaned into him, and he recalled with sudden, visceral intensity, Ruby doing the same thing with Peter's body.
Sam shoved him away. "Let Peter back out. Now."
The demon sank to his knees. "Is that what you want? Someone to keep you in line?" He shook his head. "Honestly, I'm disappointed. I thought you were someone who might be able to challenge Lilith. That's why Caroline called me, you know. I'm not Lilith's biggest fan. I believe in you, Sam Winchester. I believe that if anyone can oppose Lilith, it's you."
"I don't need your faith," Sam snapped.
"Of course, if you keep not using your powers..." He shrugged. "But tonight was such a great start. It's been so painful, not being able to act, having to watch poor little Peter mope about and harp at you. I can help you, Sam. I can! In this body, I have all of Peter's powers at my disposal. And I'm not as weak as he is." He slid closer to Sam, and pressed his head against Sam's leg. "He can't even use all his powers. My control is much better than his. I'm a better weapon, Sam, and I'm at your disposal."
"You're a demon," Sam said, pushing Peter off of him.
Peter fell to the ground, but he looked up at Sam from that position pleadingly. His wide eyes made him look like a lost child. "And you're the demon messiah, Sam. Who do you think your allies will be? Not people like Peter, I assure you. I know what he's thinking. One more little stunt like tonight, and he'll get in touch with Dean."
"Dean can't come here. We're not ready yet."
"Well, I know that," the demon said. He rose gracefully to his feet and sidled back up to Sam. "But you know Peter only sees in black and white. Funny, that. He doesn't seem to mind Dean's dark side."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam knew he shouldn't be listening to this, but he'd be lying if he said he'd never wondered what things were like between Peter and Dean.
"Oh, I've been trapped in here a couple days now," the demon said slowly. "I've learned some very interesting things about Peter and your brother. What Peter likes... What your brother likes... Dean's pretty dead-set against you using your natural talents, but he's not shy about letting out his own dark side. At least, not when he's with Peter."
"What are you talking about?"
The demon pressed into Sam again, rubbing against him like a cat, and Sam didn't have the presence of mind to protest. "Dean had a rough time in hell. He'd never tell you about it. He doesn't want to...upset you. But he uses Peter in a way he'd never use you."
The demon slid his hand down Sam's chest. "He needs to hurt someone. To give into those urges he feels. But he doesn't think you're strong enough to take it. Peter is, though. He's strong. Dean trusts him. Dean likes to use him."
Sam's hand was flying before he realized it. His backhand connected with a sharp crack that sent the demon falling to the ground. He turned back to Sam, licked the blood off Peter's lips, and smiled. "I see why you're mad. Dean and Peter are always taking the high ground against you. So judgmental of you, when you're just trying to win a war. Let me help you, Sam. I'll do what you say. I'll follow you. I could be so good for you."
Sam felt hollow. Demons lied, he knew that. But worse, demons told truths that hurt. He stepped forward and stretched his hand out toward the demon. He knew he couldn't exorcise it, not with the binding link in place, but he might be able to help Peter regain control. He reached for the demon, squeezing with all his power.
"No!" The demon writhed on the ground, moaning piteously. "Please, Sam. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me. Sam! Sam, no!"
Then with a sudden cry, Peter sat up. Sam crouched next to him. "Is it you?"
"Yeah." Peter's voice sounded strangely hoarse. He wouldn't look Sam in the eye. "It's me." He lurched ungracefully to his feet.
Sam caught him by the arm before he could pitch over into the swamp. "You got it under control?"
"Yeah," he said softly. "It won't happen again. Thanks."
Sam didn't let go. "Was he lying?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I deserve to know," Sam said sharply.
Peter shook his head. "I don't ask about you and Nathan. I don't talk to Nathan about it, either. Whatever he needs from you... It's none of my business. Just..." he wandered a couple steps away, down the path. "I warned you. Vetis thinks you're just great, Sam. I'd be worried about that if I were you." He walked away toward the house.
Sam watched him go with a mixture of resentment and trepidation, then returned to the bonfire.
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