Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 82: Aftermath

[justinedelarge]

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 82: Aftermath
Author: justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest; events alluded to in Season 5 are moved up a number of years to take place before this story, rather than after.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-5
Word Count:3000
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.
Summary: The aftermath of the showdown with Azazel.
Master post of all chapters here

"Is it done?" John could not tear his eyes away from the body Azazel had inhabited for 16 years, for god knows how long before that. "Is he…"

"Yes." Bobby limped over and laid his hand on John's shoulder.

John closed his eyes, squeezing Bobby's hand. "You're sure?"

Bobby craned his neck to look at Reggie. "Check him out?" Reggie pulled his blade out and knelt next to the vessel Azazel had worn. He pried open one of his eyes and held his blade in front of it. Nothing happened.

Reggie shook his hand and put his blade away. "He's gone."

Dean stroked Sam's hair, smoothing it off his forehead, then pressed his lips to it.

Sam trembled. "It's over? It's really over?"

"Yeah, Sammy. It's over."

Reggie looked carefully the body before him, then swore. He pressed his fingers against his carotid artery. "Christ on a crutch." He waved to Juliane frantically. "He's alive."

John rose to his feet, graceful and lethal. Dean turned Sam in his arms, putting himself in the path of danger.

"No, not Azazel." Reggie looked up at Sam and Dean, shock tinged with awe flooding his features. "The man he possessed. He's alive."

John's mouth fell open. "That's… unheard of. Anything that kills the demon outright kills the host."

"Not those blades." Reggie looked at the boys with admiration. "Not what you two made them into."

The man coughed, blood at the corner of his mouth.

Juliane knelt next to him, pulling up his black shirt and checking his wounds. "They should be a lot worse." She shot a look at Reggie. "He must have healed himself some before the knives did whatever they did." Reggie handed her a bandanna from his back pocket and she pressed it against the deeper of the stab wounds.

"Hurts," the man whispered.

"I know. I'm sorry. We'll get you to a hospital. You're going to be ok." She tried to keep her hands steady, but her nerves betrayed her.

Reggie put his hand on the small of her back and rubbed in a slow circle, soothing her. He kept his eyes locked on the man.

"What's your name?" Juliane asked.

Reggie's moustache twitched. "He probably doesn't even remember that anymore."

"Nathaniel. My name is Nathaniel."

Reggie inhaled sharply, startled.

The man's eyes were wide, haunted. "I remember everything." He clutched at Juliane's hands. "He kept me awake. For all of it."

All eyes were on him, the horror of his revelation washing over them.

"I remember everything." It is said that when Marines make their first kill, they get the thousand-yard stare. This man had stared into the abyss, seen all the terrible things that crawled and screamed and howled within it, had been forced to cower inside his own body as one of the worst of the terrible crawling things used his flesh to commit atrocities. The distance of Nathaniel's stare was beyond measure.

---

After that, things moved quickly. Bobby helped Juliane keep pressure on Nathaniel's wounds. Reggie, John, Sam and Dean checked the party guests for signs of life while Danny searched their pockets for keys, since they would require more than one vehicle to transport those who needed it to the hospital, and everyone else back to the Sanctuary.

John did not look his sons in the eye.

Sam and Dean did not look their father in the eye, either. They simply moved from one person to the next, never more than six inches away from each other, checking them in turn.

Some of the possessed people did not survive, the animating demon being the only thing keeping their body alive. But seven of them were alive, barely conscious. The human woman in the closet was the eighth survivor.

"Dean. The basement." Sam's brow furrowed, remembering the faint sounds he'd heard when he first arrived.

Reggie read his expression and ran his hand through his hair. "Stay here." He gestured to John. "You come."

They walked down the stairs into the basement.

A few minutes later, they emerged, white and shaking.

"Is…" Sam began.

Reggie held out his hand, palm out. He crossed to an antique bar against the wall, opened a sealed bottle of whiskey and took a swig right out of the bottle. His hand shook so bad, the whiskey sloshed down his chin.

He held the bottle out to John. John shook his head no. "I… I can't." His voice was weak.

"This ain't about getting drunk. This is about steadying your nerves. Sometimes the whiskey is actually medicinal." He stuck the bottle into John's hand. "One drink. You need it. You can get back on the wagon right afterward."

John's hands shook as much as Reggie's. He held the bottle with two hands and brought it to his mouth like a baby drinking a bottle of milk. The burn of the whiskey going down made him shudder. He gave the bottle back to Reggie.

Reggie took a second slug, then fixed Sam and Dean with his piercing blue eyes. "Don't go down there. You swear on each other, right now, you won't go down there."

"I swear," they said in unison. Reggie handed them the bottle. "One drink each. Both of you."

Dean wiped the mouth of the bottle off and they each drank in turn. One generous swallow only.

Danny took the collected keys outside and pressed the button on the key fobs until a car's headlights flashed. They determined that Nathaniel and two men with slashes on their arms were the only ones who required hospital care, and that the rest could be brought into the Sanctuary for treatment of their minor injuries. The older men loaded the injured people into the SUV, and Danny got into the driver's seat.

John stepped forward. "I'll go with you." Danny looked at Juliane for confirmation. She nodded her assent. "Dr. Newcomb is on duty at General tonight."

Danny breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." He glanced around, as if it was habit to see if anyone was looking, and kissed her, soft but quick, on the mouth. "Ok, we'll meet you back home."

Sam, Dean, Reggie and Bobby to the best of his ability helped Juliane get the five remaining survivors into the van and a blue sedan. Some had to be carried, Sam and Dean grabbing them by their ankles and shoulders and laying them out on the floor of the van. Others had regained enough consciousness to walk on their own with a guiding hand, confused but reassured that they were being given help. Juliane brought the woman to the car herself, covered in a warm coat from the closet, and the throw wrapped around her. She put her in the back seat with the other two, and they helped Bobby into the passenger seat and put his crutches in the trunk.

Juliane tossed the keys to the van to Dean. "I got the feeling you're usually the one who drives."

Despite everything, Sam had the resiliency of spirit to laugh at that comment. "Yeah, he never lets me behind the wheel."

"I taught you how to drive, what are you talking about?" Dean smacked Sam's shoulder lightly.

"And once I had it down, that was it."

Dean opened his mouth to banter some more—then closed it. He handed the keys to Sam. "You drive."

On the way back to the Sanctuary, they felt the whiskey start to work inside them. To their surprise, it didn't fill them with loose, giddy warmth. It solidified something inside them, made them feel sharper and more focused.

Reggie sat in the back of the van, keeping an eye on the barely conscious survivors.

"You ok, Sammy?" Dean asked softly.

Sam knew Dean wasn't stupid. He knew perfectly well Dean knew he was pretty far from ok, with their dad finding out they were together, them learning he had a secret son, AND them having just killed the demon who had murdered their mother and who had been grooming Sam for Hell service nearly his whole life. No, Sam wasn't ok, and neither was Dean. But that's not what he was really asking.

"Yeah. I'm ok." I'm so not ok, but I have you. I have you and that means I'm ok. "How are you feeling?"

Dean knew Sam wasn't unobservant. He knew perfectly well Sam knew he was battered and bleeding from being smashed into a mirror by a demon. But he knew Sam meant something deeper.

"I'll be alright." The smile he gave Sam conveyed what he was really saying. Not so beat up that I don't want you, Sam. The second we're alone.

~

By the time Danny and John had gotten Nathaniel and the other two safely into the trusted hands of Dr. Newcomb, Sam and Dean had helped Juliane and Reggie bring the five others into the Sanctuary. Bobby was settled rather reluctantly on the couch with his leg up and pain meds in him. The others tended to the wounds of the survivors, stitching up cuts and picking rock salt out of bleeding wounds and dressing them. Nobody spoke about what had happened, but Juliane was extra attentive to Sam and Dean, praising them for doing a good job with the medical care, touching them lightly whenever she could.

Juliane got the survivors settled into their rooms and gave them all sedatives to calm them and help them sleep. She put the tea kettle on and brought out mugs and a huge, plain white teapot which she filled with loose decaffeinated black tea. They sat in silence, overwhelmed and exhausted, until the tea kettle whistled, jolting them into full consciousness again.

"They didn't ask any questions." Sam noted.

Juliane shook her head. "They never do, at first. Most of the time, possessed people don't remember they were possessed. Unless the demon kept them awake. But for the first 24 hours or so after they get their bodies back, it's like some part of them knows something, and they're desperate not to remember any more. So most of them don't ask questions."

"Do you tell them?" Reggie asked.

"That depends on the person. Some people, no. They can't handle it. That sedative is pretty strong. They'll wake up feeling like they partied too hard, and we'll send them on their way with a story. Others, we tell. I just go by my gut feeling."

"You're not asking us questions," Dean interjected.

Juliane wiped her hands off on a cloth. "It's late. We've all been through…too much. Time enough for that tomorrow." Her face changed. "You are staying, right?"

Sam swallowed, suddenly wary. "We can? You… I mean. Dean said you, um, you knew."

"I've seen a hell of a lot stranger things. And I've never seen anything so…" She searched for the right word. "So pure. As what you two have. I'm going to say it out loud because you need to understand I'm not freaked out. It doesn't bother me that you two are brothers."

From the couch came a slightly slurred, "See? Taboo's not universal."

Juliane took Sam's hand, and reached out for Dean's, waiting for his permission. Dean let her take his hand.

"You two can stay here, as long as you like." She squeezed their hands. "If you want to, or if you don't have anywhere else to go, now that your dad knows."

"They have a home with me. Forever. If they want it." Bobby sat up. Reggie beamed at him.

Sam swayed on his feet, as though the offers were more than he could bear.

"Come here, Sam." Dean guided him to the other couch. Juliane poured mugs of tea, and brought them out. Sam took a sip, the warmth of the gesture restoring him as much as the liquid did. "Thank you." He smiled at her, then focused on Bobby. "You too. I… I figured…"

"What, you'd be left to fend for yourself, homeless or squatting in houses when you couldn't cadge a motel room for the night? No way in hell."

Juliane handed a mug of tea to Bobby. "Splash of whiskey?"

"You do know how to take care of a hunter, don't ya?" He let her pour in a generous glug of whiskey. Sam and Dean declined the offer. Reggie accepted.

"I hope you'll stay here a while, though." She sat on the couch, a spot of color forming on her cheeks. "I mean, I'll be honest. I could use the help with these new people. And once, what's his name, Nathaniel is released, we'll want him here for a while. He'll probably be one of our long-term care guests. Just…his mind, you know? Can you even imagine." She was quiet for a long moment. "And he may know things that could help. I'm sure he does. And your leg…" She waved at Bobby. "That's going to take at least a week before you can drive comfortably. Plus, your car needs fixing."

Bobby gave Dean a sly look. "That one could have that beast up and purring again in two days."

Dean sat up straighter, a smile playing across his face, basking in the praise of his mechanical abilities.

"And I'd kind of like you guys to stick around just because." Juliane looked at her mug of tea studiously, her long black eyelashes dark against her pale skin.

"We like you too." Sam bumped her shoulder lightly with his.

Sounds of footsteps down the long hallway. Danny and John entered the room.

Dean's mouth tightened. Sam's fingers clenched his mug hard enough to drive the color from his knuckles.

"Come on in. Have a seat." Juliane looked John in the eye and gestured toward an empty chair. "We need to talk."

Danny approached and quickly filled her in on Nathaniel's condition. "He's stable now. Dr. Newcomb will call us tomorrow with an update. He and the others are in the secure room."

"Good." She poured tea for Danny and John, adding whiskey to both. She handed the mug to John. "Thank you for helping Danny." Her mouth was hard, like the words were difficult to utter. "But as soon as you're done with that, you have to leave."

John's head jerked in shock. "What?"

"You lied to get in here. You came here under false pretenses. You tricked us, and violated the Sanctuary. You're not welcome here anymore. Not ever again." Her voice was calm and measured, but the expression on her face brooked no argument.

"But it's… do you know what time it is? Where am I going to find a motel that's open? And it's freezing out there. I can't just sleep in my car."

"That's not our concern. Your actions have repercussions. Not all of them are pleasant."

Sam put his hand on her arm. "Wait."

She looked at him steadily.

"You can't turn him out in the cold." Sam wouldn't look at John. His voice was soft, broken.

"He can't stay. He—"

"He broke the code of the Sanctuary, so he can't stay in the Sanctuary. But what about a regular room?"

Juliane thought, and quickly came to a decision. "That would be alright. But only since you asked." She shot John a dark look.

John looked at Sam, looked him in the eye for the first time since it had all gone down. The wealth of emotion that crackled through the air between them was immense, too many to name.

John glanced at Dean, then his eyes flickered back to Sam—and he looked away. "Best everyone gets some sleep." He drained his mug in a series of quick swallows, and set it down on a coaster on the coffee table. "We have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah we do," Dean muttered.

"Tomorrow, though, ok? We sleep late, late as we need to, and we'll talk tomorrow. Ok?"

"Yeah. Ok."

"I'll move him to a regular room." Danny rose to his feet.

John stood up, wiping his hands on his thighs. He did not look at Sam and Dean, but his voice was not hard or angry when he said, "'Night, boys." It was soft, even warm, like it always was.

It broke Sam's heart. Watching his father walk away from them without a backward glance, the sound of the father they had known still ringing in their ears, knowing that father was lost to them forever. If he ever existed at all.

Dean saw it, felt it, ached with Sam, for Sam. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

Sam blinked slowly, huge dark circles under his eyes. "It's been a really long day."

Reggie helped Bobby to their apartment, and Dean walked Sam back to theirs.

---

When Dean opened the door, Sam stopped dead, staring at the debris littering the kitchen and living room, signs of Dean's reaction when he learned Sam had left.

"Oh god. Dean." Sam visibly deflated. "I'm sorry." He stared at the smashed dishes and cups, the shards of ceramic and glass everywhere.

Dean took Sam's hand, rubbing the meaty part at the base of Sam's thumb. "Too tired to make it up to me, Sammy?"

The desperate hopefulness on his face blasted away Sam's fatigue. "Let me take care of you first. Clean you up. Then…if you still want to."

Dean's green eyes met Sam's hazel ones. "I'll still want to." His voice shook. "If you want to." His eyes dropped.

Sam knew what he was remembering.

"Dean. What you did. For me. For us. I love you even more."

"You aren't…disgusted?"

"No. Not with you. Never with you."

Dean shuddered, relief washing through him. "Sammy. I need you."

"Shh. Ok. Just let me get the glass out of your skin first."

Dean let Sam take his hand and pull him into the bathroom to take care of him.

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