Chapter Text
Sam was sitting cross-legged on the bed with his hands in his lap and his expression carefully formed into the expected confusion, not revealing the impatience he was feeling.
It had seemed like a good idea to stay back at the nursing home to set the scene for the other Sam’s exit, but now he was regretting it. The fact that this world was rife with demons that occasionally stormed towns and killed or possessed people meant that they were going to be a little more open-minded about a man waking up from a coma that had lasted over a decade and disappearing.
He’d wanted space though, selfishly wanting to avoid the moment Jessica was reunited with her Sam and the joy that would bring her. He’d known this moment would come almost from the moment he’d first seen her in the library. He’d known there was a way to fix her world and that it meant giving her up, and he’d thought he was prepared for that. He couldn’t have been more wrong. His heart was breaking at the thought of what was happening in the bunker and what it meant for him—that he was no longer the Sam that she wanted to be with.
He had his moment in the sun with her, and it had been magical, but it was over now. Things were as they should be, the other Sam was free and reunited with his family. He had lost her.
It hurt.
He knew he had to face it though, to get back to them for the final trial, as John was going to need protection and support. He was the only one that would know what John was going through as he’d been through it himself. He’d even known he was going to die because of it. When the blood had first spattered his hand, he’d known that the light he saw at the end of the tunnel was a false one, and he’d accepted it.
The word that had left him when Dean had told him he was going to die, the fear in his eyes and disbelief so intense it hurt Sam to see—‘So?’—hadn’t been the result of depression or desperation; it was proof of what he had already known. He was going to die, but it would be over then. The world would be safe. His debt would be paid at last. He would have atoned for all the times he’d let his brother and the world down. He would be done.
Dean’s words had reached him, though, and he’d stopped. John wouldn’t stop. Nothing would reach him the way it had Sam because he was saving the world for his family. He’d be doing what he had always tried to do for them—He would be a hero.
Sam wanted to be there to guide him through that.
“Johnnie, do you know where you are?” the doctor asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“It’s Sam.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My name,” Sam said. “I’m not a John Doe. My name is Sam Smith.”
The doctor scribbled a note on his clipboard and said, “It’s good to have a real name for you at last. I do need you to answer the question though. Do you know where you are?”
Sam shrugged. “A hospital?”
The doctor shook his head slowly. “No, but the assumption is an easy one to make. This is The Manor Park Nursing Home. And you have been here…”—he hesitated—”…a long time.”
Sam knew that already, but he had to play his part so he asked, “How long?”
“Over ten years.”
Sam schooled his face into the appropriate amount of shock and said, “What happened to me?”
“We’re not sure of the circumstances, but you were badly beaten and left in a church in Ilchester. You were found by some teenagers that were using the place as a hangout. You were taken to the hospital and treated there for months before you were moved here.” He lowered his clipboard and said, “We have no explanation for how you are awake, Sam. The damage done to your body was catastrophic, brain activity was minimal. There was no hope of recovery. The fact you are awake now, sitting up and talking, is nothing short of miraculous. The muscle wastage alone should make movement impossible.” He tapped his pen against his chin. “What happened to you, Sam?”
Sam shrugged. “No idea. I just woke up with that nurse on the floor. Is she okay?”
“Yes. She merely suffered a fainting spell. She’s being taken care of now. It’s you that we are concerned with. We have contacted a neurologist at the hospital, and he would like you to be transferred to him for further testing.”
Sam shook his head. “I can’t do that. Look, I get that I’m a miracle or whatever, but I don’t care. I have a life to get back to, people who need me.”
The doctor’s face became solemn. “The world is not the place you knew, Sam. So much has changed since you have been unconscious. There are great dangers out there now that you need to be aware of. There are… demons.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Demons?”
“Actual monsters,” the doctor said. “They came around the same time you were admitted here. I know this is a shock, but until you have been informed of the threat they pose, you should stay here where it’s safe. There are ways to detect them, and you need to learn them. I admit that we were concerned you might be one, too, but you passed the tests that we’ve learned of. You need to know those tests if you’re…”
Sam held up his hand. “I know about demons. I was a hunter. I don’t know how or why they’re in the open, but you’re not telling me anything I don’t know about already.”
“You were a hunter?” A look of awe spread over his face, similar to the one the eye doctor had worn when she’d met him and Dean before.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “And if they’re in the open, it’s even more important that I get out of here.”
“Please… Just a few more days.”
“No can do,” Sam said. “I’ve got to go. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, I really am, but I can’t stay.”
He was grateful for what they had done for himself of this world. The fact he had been here instead of running around soulless was a huge relief, and he was glad for that version’s family that he’d been taken care of so well while he was unconscious.
The doctor sighed. “Very well. I will arrange for someone to bring you some clothes and shoes. As a hunter, there are arrangements that can be made for you, too. You will find travel and accommodation available as a mark of thanks for your kind.”
“Great,” Sam said. “Thanks.”
The doctor tucked his pen back into his pocket and rose to his feet. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, Sam.”
He turned and walked from the room, leaving Sam to breathe a sigh of relief. It had been easier for him to get out of the situation that he’d hoped, and he guessed that the fact he was a hunter had swung it for him.
He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the clothes to be brought. He was annoyed that he would have to leave his own clothes behind, concealed in the locker, and he knew they were going to question them when they found them, but he wanted to play his part until he was out of here. He would get out and then call Jack for a ride back to the bunker and the others.
The door opened and an orderly came in with a pile of clothes and a pair of rubber clogs in his arms. He gave Sam a strange assessing look and said, “It’s our very own miracle.”
Sam forced a smile and said, “Yeah, miracle, that’s me.”
“But you are,” the man said. “You’re going to open the world us to us all, Sam.”
Sam frowned. “I’m what.”
The man dropped the clothes down onto the end of the bed and withdrew a syringe from his pocket. Sam jumped to his feet and swung out a fist, but the man caught his arm and twisted it behind his back as he pulled the sheath from the needle with his teeth and jabbed it into Sam’s upper arm.
Sam struggled but the drugs he’d been dosed with were already working on him, making his muscle loose and unwilling to obey his brain’s commands.
“What are you doing?” he slurred.
The man pushed him down onto the bed and leaned over him, his grey eyes turning black. “I’m doing my job,” he said. “We’ve got big plans for you, Winchester.”
Sam’s blinked blearily as his legs were lifted and he was positioned on the bed in the pose the other Sam had been in when they’d arrived.
He fixed his wavering gaze on the man as he took a phone from his pocket and dialed. It was obviously answered after only a moment as he said, “It’s done,” and then hung up and tucked it back in his pocket.
There was the sound of the door clicking open and then a voice that chilled Sam’s heart spoke and his slow eyes moved to the woman that had entered. She was wearing the same meatsuit she had been all those years ago; the blonde hair and blue eyes painting a picture of innocence, though Sam knew she was one of the most dangerous and evil beings he’d ever encountered.
It was Lilith.
His lips moved, trying to form her name, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was call out in his mind and hope that it might be heard, “Jack, Lilith is here. Help me.”
Sam tried to move, but his body seemed held down by a heavy weight. He could barely move his head to follow her path towards the bed. She looked down at him and said, “Hello, Sam.”
Sam tried to speak, but his lips moved soundlessly, his tongue a useless weight behind his teeth.
“Hold the door,” she instructed the other demon. “We don’t want to be interrupted. It’s vital that no one sees this happening. He needs to merely relapse. If anyone sees, the hunters will hear about it, and two versions of Dean Winchester in one world will be a complication I don’t want to deal with. The story must maintain as long as it can, at least long enough for them to die.”
The other demon raised a hand and pointed it at the door, as Sam heard the click as it settled in its frame.
She looked around and sighed, “Angels. They always keep you waiting.”
Sam’s mind seemed sluggish and dull from the drugs he’d been given, her words reaching him but leaving no lasting meaning. He tried to force it to work, sure that there was a way to stop this if he could just think clearly, but they wouldn’t oblige.
There was a rustle and then another voice Sam knew and detested spoke, making his fear ratchet up another level. Zachariah.
“I wasn’t sure I believed it until I saw it,” he said. “But the differences are there. This one is a little more hardened in the features. The years he lived while our own abomination was sleeping have changed him.”
“Yes, he’s here,” Lilith said. “But he’s not so changed I won’t be able to bend him to my will. This version has already killed me once. It won’t take long to persuade him to do it again. And he’ll have more motivation than the other. He’ll have his brother’s suffering to end.”
Zachariah nodded. “You’ll have his brother for your use, but not the one from this world. Dean Winchester must host Michael for the final battle, and Sam Winchester must host Lucifer. And we want the correct versions. Only those of this world must serve this world. Michael wants the doppelgangers killed as soon as their role is played.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Lilith said. “Well, I will as long as you angels play your part. You know what they are trying to do, don’t you?”
“Close the gates of Hell,” Zachariah said. “We know. Why do you think Michael is taking a secondary vessel? He will stop them. We would do it ourselves, but the Nephilim will pose a problem. Michael will be able to deal with him. And then he will have the news of another Sam Winchester in hell to be broken. He will be pleased.”
Lilith chuckled. “So you haven’t told him you’re working with me? Don’t you think he’ll be pleased by your initiative?”
Zachariah shifted from foot to foot. “I think he will be pleased when it’s done, eventually, but he is a purist at heart. He would never stoop to working with a demon. When he has killed the doppelgangers and ended those ridiculous trials, I will tell him.”
“You might want to send Raphael after the other versions, too,” Lilith said. “Hannah said the Nephilim is more powerful than anything she ever felt before, didn’t she?”
Despite his slow mind, Sam felt the impact of the words and he sucked in a weak breath of shock. Hannah was a spy.
“It’s not my place to recommend anything,” Zachariah said. “Michael will know what to do.”
Lilith shrugged. “Shall we do it then? I want to get started on this one.”
Zachariah shot her an annoyed look but was obviously going to obey as he approached the bed and looked down at Sam with his hateful eyes. “This is going to hurt,” he warned. “But I don’t think you’re in a position to put up a fight.”
Sam glared at him and then his eyes widened as Zachariah laid a hand over his sternum and he realized what was about to happen.
With his free hand, Zachariah clamped Sam’s jaws together so no more than a groan of pain could leave him as his other hand drove into Sam’s chest, his fingers groping for something that was centered beside Sam’s heart. Though Sam’s mind was slow and his agony almost totally overwhelming, he knew was what coming and he was terrified.
He felt Zachariah’s fingers clench something and then slowly pull out of him, leaving Sam feeling empty and oddly calm.
As Zachariah withdrew his hand, Sam’s vision was occluded by the light of his own soul clutched above him. He stared at it with a dispassionate eye, seeing it and knowing what it was but feeling nothing more than mild interest.
He knew what the feeling meant but had no capacity to care.
He was soulless again.
The light withdrew as Zachariah placed it in a jar and handed it to Lilith. She held it close to her chest and said, “Thank you, Zachariah.”
Zachariah’s lips pressed into a thin line. Apparently receiving thanks for working with a demon was distasteful to him, despite its necessity.
He reached for Sam’s temple and then stopped as a ringing came from the locker where Sam’s phone was tucked in the pocket of the jacket he’d been wearing.
Zachariah crossed the room and took it out and then smirked. “Dean. Perfect.” He connected the call and then spoke in a perfect imitation of Sam’s own voice, “Hey, Dean. How’s it going?” He listened for a moment then said. “Yeah, I’m on my way out now. No, don’t send anyone. I’m going to drive back.” His eyes settled on Sam and he winked. “I just need a little time. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He frowned and then said. “The third trial? Yeah, of course. Wait for me though. I want to be there for it. We have time, right?” He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, five days, I remember. I’ll be back long before she comes for us. I need to go. I’ll see you soon, Dean.” He ended the call and chuckled. “That’s the other Winchester distracted for a while and the trial delayed. Things are falling into place. He will have joined his brother in Hell and the trials will be stopped before he has a chance to realize what happened.”
“Perfect,” Lilith said. “You know what to do if you need me.”
“There’s only one thing we need from you,” Zachariah said. “And that’s your death.”
“It’ll happen,” Lilith said confidently. “Look at the state of his soul already. He’s suffered. He’ll be broken in no time.”
Zachariah nodded and pressed his fingers to Sam’s temple. “You can sleep now,” he said. “We have what we need from you.”
Sam felt sleep wash over him and his eyes fell closed. He understood what was happening, where his soul was going and why, but he didn’t care.
His soul was headed to Hell to be tortured and broken until he was willing to kill Lilith, but it didn’t matter.
Sam felt nothing.