Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 35

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was standing in a circular room. It was familiar. Also familiar was the rubble on the floor. It was his wall, his mind, his memories.

“Very good,” came Chuck’s voice from behind him.

“I’m dreaming.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here? The other times I dreamed this I was by myself.” He stared at Chuck. “Are you God?”

Chuck slid his hands into his pants pockets. “Do you want me to be?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Is whether or not I’m God the thing that needs to be looked at right now?”

He opened his mouth to reply and shook his head. “I guess not. Why are you here,” he repeated.

“To impress upon you that Death had a real reason for telling you not to scratch at that wall. Unfortunately, he has no patience to explain himself when he ought to.” He stepped to one open door. “Follow me, Sam.”

All the doors along the hall were open this time except that one at the end that was always closed.

“The portion Death walled up was small really. A year or so. You see this as a circular room leading to hallways leading to doors and so on, but it’s more complicated than that. You chose this representation because you can understand it.”

Was that why his mind chose Chuck as the representation of this guide? Or chose him as the helpful hallucination? Because he was uncomplicated? He was, well, he was Chuck. Chuck was harmless and the real Chuck had been helpful in the past.

“The reality is different, even more of a maze and not as neatly put together as this little section.”

“It’s tidy.” He looked into the first door. Gwen and Christian were talking. Gwen was upset and off to one side, Samuel appeared bored, poking a finger at a computer keyboard.

“Your first few weeks with the Campbell family.” Chuck joined him, looking in.

“I remember. Christian was making fun of Gwen for a tactical maneuver she’d proposed. I supported her on it because it was logical, except, when we implemented it, people died. They got in the way.” He shook his head, correcting himself. “No, they got in my way. It upset Gwen. She was careful in her planning, excited to prove herself at last to Samuel, and I managed to sabotage it.”

“She proved herself later.”

“When she blindly followed him to her death.”

“She knew the job was dangerous. Gwen knew the risks. Hunting was her life. She made her choices, however tragic they may seem to you.”

“You mean free will.”

“All humans have it.” Chuck swept an arm out, inviting him to move further down the hallway. “The human mind is resilient. Many of these memories would have leaked out from behind the wall over the months with no problems except perhaps a bit of shame for how you’d behaved. The problem we need to address is down here.”

He knew where they were going and he didn’t want to go there.

Wet dark trails glistened down the door. He saw that it was open about an inch, rubble blocking it from moving further. There were still bricks stacked to one side, though they looked dusty.

“Notice the rest of the doors open inward towards the memories contained in the rooms. This one doesn’t. See the lock.”

He hadn’t seen the lock before, but there it was, the chain in place.

“Death put the wall up, but you did this Sam. You created it this way. It’s your mind and you did this because you knew. You understood even if you were merely a body walking around at the time. You prepared for what could happen if you got your soul back. Come on, Sam. What do you know and what would Death know? You’ve been thinking about it, preparing yourself to act, readying yourself for action. It’s time. You can’t remain ignorant anymore. Face your fears, see everything you haven’t been seeing and what you’ve been afraid to see.”

The truth was there and he let it wash over him and roll him under until he came out the other side of that wave. He understood the messages he’d been receiving from Chuck and the one Darla had given him from his mother. He also understood why Mary was frightened for him. “I’m still connected to Lucifer. My soul. He can escape through me.”

“Where does the door go? Think. Put the rest of the pieces together. Connection, Death, door. You need to wake up, Sam. Now is the time, before it really is too late.”

He stumbled from the hallway, pieces sliding into place almost effortlessly.

Sam woke. He laid still for awhile, thinking about it all and when he had what he thought was a complete picture, he made his way out into the main room. Dean was standing at the kitchenette counter making notes on a piece of paper. “Dean, do you have a minute?” This was going to be difficult to discuss. Dean wasn’t going to want to talk about it or consider what Sam had to tell him.

“Yeah, sure. I’m all ears.” He set the paper aside.

When they were settled in chairs Sam said, “I need you to listen.”

“Lay it on me.”

“No, Dean, I mean you need to listen even though you’re not going to want to consider what I have to say.”

His gaze turned wary. “What’s this about?”

Sam said it as plainly as he could. “I think I’m still connected to Lucifer and the cage.”

Dean’s features tightened and Sam knew he had about five seconds before an outburst came. He even counted them. “No. No. You’re not connected. It’s this medicine screwing with you.”

“What if it’s true? If the Lucifer I was seeing was really --”

“No. Your mind is all scrambled. You can’t….” He got up and began to pace. “The apocalypse is over and done with and those two archangel dicks can mix it up for eternity. Castiel rescued your body and Death got your soul out. No. He’s not real, not anymore. He’s not there, Sam. It’s your mind. We did Darla’s method and nothing was left standing.”

Fear dripped from every word and Sam understood. He did. If Sam was still connected to the cage, it meant that there was a possibility Dean could lose him all over again. Dean wasn’t ready to fight that battle all over again. He might never be ready. “Why do you think it’s only my mind,” he persisted. “Why isn’t it possible --”

“Because Castiel pushed down the wall and scrambled those eggs. Why do you think it’s not? Look, sometimes….” He stopped pacing, hands held out. “Sometimes, it’s not a supernatural thing. Sometimes, Sammy, we, you and I, we really are just that screwed up.” Dean was hoping and praying that that was the case. Sam could see it as clear as day. “We’re screwed in the head and that’s not going to change.”

He licked his lips, suppressing a sigh. “Okay.”

“No more of this Lucifer could get out crap.”

“Dean --”

“No!”

Sam gave a slow nod. He didn’t want to do anything without Dean standing by and ready, but he would if he had to.

Dean turned his back.

Without replying, Sam stepped towards his room. He’d nearly closed his door all the way when he heard Dean’s voice. Thinking he was saying something more on the subject, he opened the door back up, but that wasn’t the case.

“Please, no. Not Lucifer again. Not…. I thought we got this cleared up. I thought when nothing was left standing that it was just in his head. But….” Dean’s words were soft, so much so that Sam realized he didn’t want Sam to hear. “God, no. Please. I can eventually handle the powers that are coming back, but not this. Keep the devil in his cage. Don’t let this happen. I can’t…”

Dean was praying, his head bowed and Sam saw Chuck standing at his side. He was half facing Dean, a hand resting on his back while he listened. Again, Sam wondered if he was seeing God; if his broken mind was allowing him to see what usually remained hidden. Or rather if God was allowing him to see in order to give him the hope they’d been missing for a very long time.

“I can’t lose Sam again. Not to Lucifer.”

Sam heard a strangled sob.

“I know, Dean,” Chuck replied, though it didn’t appear that Dean heard him. “I understand the pain you’re going through. I’m here. I’ve always been here. You think I’ve abandoned the world, abandoned you, but that’s far from the truth. I do listen, Dean. I do hear.”

Chuck’s head turned and he nodded once at Sam.

Sam eased the door shut and closed it without a sound. A few minutes later, the outer door slammed as Dean left. He picked up his pill bottle and studied it.

There was a knock on the outer door and he opened it, inviting his guest inside to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was too much.

The emotions that welled up when Sam mentioned Lucifer threatened to choke Dean. He’d thought they were done with Lucifer and the apocalypse, that it was all over for good, yet if this was true, it meant that they’d only delayed it. It couldn’t be true, so of course, it most likely was. That was the way their luck always ran.

This was the worst case scenario he’d considered off and on for a year now. It fit too well. The natural disasters, the current state of the world. It all fit with an apocalypse that was going to get right back on track and be unstoppable. The keys were gone, Michael in the cage.

No.

Panic began to whirl in his mind and he left the cabin, taking the path outside the circle of the main camp instead of the direct one. He didn’t want to chance running into anyone in his state. He was liable to snap at people.

Connected. How could Sam still be connected? The cage was closed, with the two archangels inside it. Didn’t the boundaries of the cage cut whatever bond Sam had had with Lucifer? Besides, wouldn’t Death have said something?

But he had, a tiny voice inside him piped up. He’d warned that Sam wasn’t to scratch the wall. He’d made it clear that something bad would happen. Dean had thought he’d been referring to the release of those hell memories, bad all by themselves, but what if Death had been referring to the bond between Sam and Lucifer? What if that was what he’d really walled up?

He shoved his hands into his front jeans pockets, staring down at the path as he walked. His thoughts turned in furious circles and he decided to talk to Sam in the morning, after having slept on it. If he was right and what Dean prayed wouldn’t happen was happening, then they’d figure out what to do together. They’d defeat Lucifer again, somehow, like they had the last time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo was right and yet she was wrong at the same time. It wasn’t that Lucifer had piggybacked at all.

As Jo spoke, it all came together for Castiel. The connection between a soul and an angel, or an archangel. It enabled angels to easily find their vessels and…talk to them. There was a connection because Sam had accepted Lucifer and him being back in the cage didn’t negate that bond. The bond was with the soul, not the body, which was why angels needed a live soul while demons didn’t.

He felt cold, understanding suddenly what he’d done when he’d knocked down the wall.

Death would have known about that and known that Lucifer could use Sam as a loophole. He’d brought Sam out knowing he also brought out a backdoor into the cage. He’d walled up that connection behind the wall along with Sam’s hell experiences and Castiel thought he may have done it out of some sliver of affection for Dean. Whatever kind of affection Death himself could have. It was obvious he liked Dean and found him amusing.

Castiel had made it possible for Lucifer to reach Sam and influence him. He was mortified that he hadn’t understood immediately. He should have grasped what had happened or would happen before he’d even pushed the wall down and he was fully responsible for Sam’s current state.

He headed to the cabin.

Sam answered the door. His gaze was thoughtful. “Castiel.”

“Yes.” He found that he wasn’t as surprised as he should have been that Sam knew him for himself. He was more relieved than anything. Maybe Sam, like everyone else, had known along. Perhaps Dean had really known all along as well and the only one Castiel had been fooling was himself.

The door was opened wide. “I think we need to talk.”

“We do.”

He stepped inside the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~

After considering the questions Sam had asked at his appointment, Morgan spent a few days doing research. When she was finished, she spent a relaxing early evening eating dinner with Dean and Jo. Dean cradled Beth to his chest with one arm and ate with his free hand. Jo kept leaning over to adjust the blanket or touch one small hand. Morgan was glad they were enjoying being parents.

As they ate, Dean interviewed her. It was the only word for the sort of questions he asked and the information he wanted. Schooling, experience. It was amusing, especially since she’d already started working in the camp. She’d taken care of scrapes, bumps, burns, Ellen’s leg, delivered Beth, and given several physicals. Not to mention she’d been cast occasionally in the role of therapist to a few people who’d wandered into the infirmary needing to talk to someone.

When Dean wound down, she asked, “Where’s Sam tonight?”

Dean handed Beth to Jo and leaned back in his chair. “In our cabin.” He sounded distracted. “I need to go get a piece of pie before it’s gone.”

He got his pie and Morgan decided she rather liked Dean when he wasn’t in leader mode. When he relaxed and teased Jo or just held his daughter in silence, she could see the similarities between him and Sam. She could see the man Jo was in love with. Morgan remained with them awhile longer, finally leaving them swinging in the swing on the porch. She stopped at the infirmary, picked up the notes she’d been making, and went to see Sam.

It was Jimmy who opened the door, he and Sam both seeming surprised to see her. They exchanged a long glance before Jimmy stepped back and let her in. They both looked different, focused and purpose driven. Whatever they’d been discussing had been intense. She could feel the tension in the air.

“You have a minute,” she asked, approaching Sam.

He closed the notebook he had open. She’d seen a brief glimpse of a sketch of what looked like a door before it was closed. “Sure.”

“I did some research after the other day.” She laid several pages down in front of him.

Sam glanced at them. “And?”

“I’m a GP, so I’m not an expert in your medication or what’s available, but I think you do still have several options. A few aren’t viable given your history of seizures. There are some, though, that could work well for you. This current medication is working, yet it’s a hindrance to your quality of life. Months have proven that. I’d like to try to get an outside opinion. The internet is up right now and I do have a few colleagues I can try to contact if you like.”

“Maybe you should wait a couple weeks,” Jimmy suggested.

It was the same thing Sam had said that day and Morgan wondered if she was missing something. “Why? What’s in two weeks?”

“Nothing,” Sam said far too quickly, shuffling the pages and stacking them together. “I just need to think about it first.” He held the pages out.

She took them. “The internet service isn’t stable, Sam. I really should go ahead and send a message out while we can. It could be awhile to hear back and then longer to actually find new pills for you. May be two weeks or longer anyway. I can --”

“No. Thank you. I want to think about it.”

He was hiding something, but damned if she knew what it was. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve lasted these months, I can go awhile longer. I’ll decide. I promise.”

“I honestly think we should take advantage of the internet capability right now.”

“I understand, Morgan. I need to weigh it all and decide if doing this is going to change things for the better in the end. I have to think of the risks.”

This? Somehow, she didn’t think he was referring to switching medications. “We won’t know how a new medication will affect you until you try it. Of course we can speculate based on your reaction to past medications, but….” She sighed. “I’m not going to convince you, am I?”

“No.”

“You’re as hard-headed and stubborn as Jo says your brother is once you’ve made up your mind, aren’t you?”

His lips quirked the slightest bit in a smile. “Pretty much.”

Jimmy pulled out a chair and sat. “I believe they both prefer the phrase ‘strong willed’ to describe it and they both have ‘it’ in spades. Trust me on that.”

“Well then, let me know as soon as you decide what to do.”

“You’ll know.” Sam said it with a certainty that meant he’d already done all the weighing and thinking he was going to. He had some sort of action in mind and Morgan had the feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

“Don’t do anything stupid or reckless or would mess with your health,” she warned.

“I’ll make an informed decision,” he assured her. “Believe me, Morgan, I won’t act until I’m sure it’s the right thing.”

Jimmy crossed his arms. “Stubbornness.”

“Strong will,” Morgan corrected. “Okay. I’ll leave you to your thinking then.” Whirling, she left. She was out of the cabin and down the steps when Sam caught her arm and tugged her to stop.

“Morgan, wait. Don’t be mad. It’s a big step and I want to make sure it’s right.”

She let him pull her closer. “I’m not mad, Sam, but I get the feeling you’re going to do something that’s dangerous and I can’t approve of that.”

“Sometimes in order to get better, you have to get worse.”

“You mean withdrawal symptoms?”

“I mean facing your demon head on.”

He was trying to tell her something and it was frustrating to realize that she didn’t know him well enough to decode his words. “Be careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks here.”

“I’ll be careful and only take the necessary ones.” His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Look, I plan to get better so I can get to know you. I want to have something with you that’s deeper than physical and I have to face the mental and spiritual before that can happen.” Leaning down, he gave her a kiss that curled her toes before he released her and returned to the cabin.

She stood still for a moment, trying to decide if she should go back up there, bang on the door and demand answers, or let it go, trusting him to tell her later. He kept telling her he’d tell her later, even promising. As much as she wanted answers now, she should trust him to do that. However, she made a promise to herself to that if she noticed any reckless behavior, she’d take it to Dean immediately.

“Damn it,” Morgan whispered and chose the latter option. She’d wait.