Denial is a River in Egypt
Rating: PG-13 (for mature-ish themes, including implied incest)
Episode-centric for Defending Your Life (Ssn 7, Ep. 4); Osiris judges Sam’s heart, and Jo has a talk with Dean.
Denial is a River in Egypt
Dean refused his last witness, and Osiris declared his fate.
“I find you, Dean Winchester, guilty in your heart. I sentence you to die.” Pausing, he looked at Dean with no hint of pity or remorse. “I suggest you get your affairs in order quickly.”
He banged his staff against the raised wooden platform, and Dean hung his head. The doomed man turned and began to walk away. Sam made to follow him, but the Egyptian god stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“A moment in private, if you don’t mind,” he asked.
Sam snarled, “Why? So you can sentence me to death, too?”
Osiris gave Sam an unreadable look. “No…”
Sam looked at Dean. Dean stared at Sam blankly. Sam shrugged back. “Sure,” he said to the god, “Just don’t let whoever kill my brother in the meantime.”
Osiris lifted on slim shoulder. “So be it.” He walked into the dark corner of the old apple orchard barn, and Sam followed him.
Cast in shadow, Osiris began, “I took the opportunity to delve into your heart, Sam.”
Sam stood his ground. “And?”
“And,” Osiris continued, “while I did not find much, if any, guilt—“ he raised an eyebrow sharply at the taller man at that, but continued before Sam could interject, “What I did find was, shall I say, disturbing?”
“Ah,” Sam answered. He crossed his arms. He had a pretty good idea what Osiris was talking about.
Osiris clucked at him. “Really, Sam. Your own brother?”
“Not like I can help it,” Sam muttered, arms raising higher on his chest.
“And what a brother at that!” The god said, sweeping his arm in the air. “Filled with undue guilt and burden! Not to mention alcohol.” Osiris paused. “Although, I admit, he’s quite a looker.”
Osiris looked toward the empty doorway Dean had disappeared through. “He’s probably a living hell to be with. What with his inability to express emotion of any kind, always hiding behind his little jokes and masks and utter denial of everything that means anything…”
“He’s not that bad,” Sam interrupted, but even to him it sounded weak in his ears. He looked down at his feet.
Osiris looked back to the taller man. “I’m sure you can do much better than him, Sam.”
Sam thought, and silence stretched between them. After a moment, Sam looked up. “No, I don’t think I can.” He uncrossed his arms.
Osiris stared Sam down. Sam was half-tempted to take a step back, thinking the Egyptian god was going to take a swing at him, or hex him, or something when the god broke into a shit-eating grin. Slapping Sam on the shoulder, he laughed, “That’s the spirit!”
Flabbergasted, Sam sputtered, “Wai—what? I thought?”
“Just testing you,” Osiris chuckled. “I heard from the grapevine what kind of boys you two hunters are, and I wanted to see for myself.” He leaned in, a devilish glint in his eye, and whispered, “You two would make a fine couple.”
Sam glared. “Except you sentenced my brother to death.”
Osiris scoffed. “Details. I’m sure you’ll work something out.” He stood tall, and straightened his robes. “Well, you should be off, before your guilt-stricken brother decides to do the deed himself.” He waved his hand at Sam in dismissal. Knowing a good exit when he saw one, Sam turned tail and hurried after Dean.
When Sam learned about the ram’s horn, he left Dean with the weapons cache and hoped for the best. Dean had been slow in showing an interest in his own protection, but eventually he grabbed a rock salt filled shotgun and Sam had to be okay with that. He couldn’t stay to protect his idiot brother and stab Osiris at the same time, so Sam chose Osiris.
And he left.
Nearly as soon as he was gone, Dean called out softly, “You can come out now.”
Jo appeared. He was half expecting Amy, but then again, he wasn’t convinced that monsters had souls. (Or, at least, souls that could ghost. Sort of like dogs, but less loveable and cute).
They played their little game, circling each other, Jo apologizing for what Osiris was compelling her to do, and Dean saying it didn’t really matter. He had accepted his death. Had accepted it for a while now.
And they bantered, nudging each other into some type of final action. “You can’t admit you had a giant crush on me,” Dean said.
“Shut up,” Jo said. “Like I could ever compete with Sam.”
Dean’s brain screeched to a halt. “Wait. What?”
Jo blinked, pausing in her pacing the line of salt that kept her away from Dean. “Um, oops?” she offered.
Glaring, Dean growled, “What do you mean, ‘compete with Sam’?”
Jo laughed, but it showed her nervousness. “Everything’s clearer when you’re dead, you know?” She shrugged. “Just that you two… kinda obvious this side of life.”
“Obvious?” Dean spat, anger bringing out a flush of life in his eyes. “Obvious how?”
“Oh come on,” Jo said. “Like you two aren’t the most epically ill-fated lovers in the history of EVER. You make Romeo and Juliet look like a couple of kindergarteners playing house.”
“You, we just, wait.” Dean sputtered, “Lovers? What the hell—“
“You and Sam. Together.” Jo crossed her ghostly arms. “Geez, we’d all be a lot happier if you two would just start boinking and get it over with already.”
“B-boinking?” Was Dean’s masterful reply.
“It’s time, Dean,” Jo said, and flickered over to the stove. She turned the gas up as high as it could go, and waited for the noxious chemicals to permeate the room.
Dean barely took notice. “T-Time?” Dean asked, trying to catch up. “Time to boink Sam?”
Jo sighed. “Time for you to die.” She concentrated her unearthly presence on the window and broke the glass. An unnaturally strong breeze swept through the room and blew the line of salt apart.
Luckily, before Jo’s ghost had time to light Dean’s own lighter, igniting the gas into a fiery ball of death, sure to wipe out not only Dean but anyone else on their hotel floor, Sam stabbed Osiris with the horn. Jo’s compulsion was gone, and she dropped the lighter. She put a hand up to Dean’s cheek and smiled.
“Go get him, tiger.” And vanished.
Dean stared about the room in confusion.
“What the hell?”
The car trip back to Bobby’s was long and quiet. Somewhere around the second hour, Dean glanced at Sam. “Anything about that back there strike you as odd?” he asked.
Sam looked at his brother. About ten different responses filtered through his consciousness, but he settled on the safe bet.
“Nope. Not at all.
“Okay,” Dean said, turning back to the road. “Just checking.”
And they continued on in silence.