Title: Challenge 3 Voting
mummyluvr - January 19, 2007 12:18 AM (GMT)
Here are the entries for Challenge 3 in the order they were posted. You can vote for your favorite one in the poll above. Please vote for the work and not the author.
Voting will close Wednesday, February 7.
If you have any questions, feel free to send me a PM.
Crossroad Blues (2.08)
She walked into the room after acquiring a new host, a content smile playing across the beautiful girl’s features as the events of the night played over in her head again.
That hunter. He’d trapped her, tried to stay strong. He’d crumbled before her, his every last defense falling to pieces as she revealed the truth about his father and the deadly deal he’d made.
The words had left the man’s mouth. “You can bring him back?”
She’d gladly offered to put things right, make everything ok. Ten years on top. An added bonus.
She’d been so sure he would jump on it, broken as he was. She’d underestimated him.
He’d underestimated her.
The demon sat down at a table in Lloyd’s, eyeing the crowd, searching for anyone that would be willing to make a deal.
Yes, Dean Winchester had freed Evan Hudson from his contract, but in summoning her, he’d opened a can of worms. She was perfectly free to continue making deals, deals like the one she’d made earlier that night.
Dean Winchester had underestimated her, hadn’t chosen the right words, had left himself wide open for attack.
The beauty of it was, he would never know. Not until it was too late. And even then, ten years was practically a lifetime. She would be somewhere else by then, and the tormented man she’d tricked that night would be nothing but a memory to his brother.
And, of course, his father.
“You weren’t actually considering making that deal, were you?” Sam asked, eyes trained on his big brother, watching closely for any sort of reaction, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t find himself staring down yet another chink in the older man’s armor.
Dean leaned forward, flipping the radio station from Blues to Rock, his eyes never meeting his brother’s. Sam had his answer, another glaringly obvious example of the way guilt can break a person down completely until you don’t even know them anymore.
“Dean,” he said softly, “it wasn’t your fault. He did it to himself. He wanted to-”
“Just shut up.” The reply was so soft, Sam barely even heard it, but the raw anger in his brother’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“You told me once,” he attempted again, “that demons lie. Remember? Back in Pennsylvania? The phantom traveler? It said it knew about Jess, and you told me-”
“This is different, and you know it. So just shut up and let me drive.”
Sammy sighed. “Look, man. I know what it’s like to feel like someone’s death is your fault, but you wouldn’t let me take responsibility for Jess, and I’m not gonna let you keep beating yourself up over dad.”
“Jess didn’t die so you could live,” Dean said through clenched teeth, “she didn’t try to rip you apart inside and then come crawling back apologizing before telling you that…”
The younger man snapped his eyes to his brother’s suddenly stiff form. “What? Dean, what is it? Did… did he say something before…?”
Dean leaned forward again and cranked up the old radio’s volume, drowning out his brother’s potentially harmful question. Sam took the hint and leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes as big brother breathed a sigh of relief.
The old Impala sped down the rural road, headlights cutting through the darkness. From the shadows of the trees that lined both sides of the road, a figure stepped onto the abandoned street.
A sigh escaped the middle-aged man’s throat as he watched the car, a car that had once been his, speed off into the night. His dark eyes, haunted by the things he’d experienced since that night in the hospital all those months ago, scanned the road. Calloused hands were shoved into the pockets of a worn jacket as a single tear slipped down the face that had aged so much in the twenty-three years since the fire.
“Dean,” John Winchester whispered, setting off down the road after his sons, determined to finally make things right.
Ten years. That was like a lifetime.
A lifetime of loneliness, of sorrow, of regrets. Of secrets not kept.
When John Winchester had finally caught up with his boys, it had been too late. He’d been betrayed. His dying wish, a promise that had been made… Dean had broken his promise, he’d told Sam the truth. He hadn’t been able to look his father in the face.
Fortunately, he hadn’t had to.
Dean had been rounding the corner, heading back towards the room after making a quick food run, just in time to see John standing on the porch, waiting for his return.
Needless to say, the bag of greasy food hadn’t stayed in Dean’s hands long.
He’d seen Sam open the door, seen his father and brother hug, and those words had come rushing back into his mind. “Sam is clearly John’s favorite.”
Sam had never broken a promise. Sam had never made deals with demons to undo other, possibly more important, deals. Sam had never disobeyed his father’s wishes to the extent that Dean had since the man’s death.
So, Dean had run. He’d taken his car and left. He didn’t even try to think of how his father had come back until he was sure that they wouldn’t find him, sure that he wouldn’t have to look into his father’s eyes and see the betrayal clearly written there.
John had tried to call. He’d left a message saying that he understood, that he didn’t blame his oldest son for anything. He’d said the burden of that life-or-death secret had been too great.
He’d said the demon had been a trickster. It had made two deals that night without Dean even knowing. It had freed Evan, and released John from Hell.
Sighing, Dean sat back on the single motel bed, running an unsteady hand through his hair as he again heard a dog barking, the sound coming closer and closer all the time.
He knew that his father and brother were looking for him, trying to bring him out of his self-imposed exile, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of facing them. Sure, he wanted to see them, missed them like crazy, but he’d lied to Sam, betrayed his father.
As far as Dean was concerned, he deserved to be alone. They didn’t need him, John had made that all too clear back in Missouri.
“Demons lie.” True. But they didn’t lie to Dean.
Something just outside the room was snarling, and the door shook suddenly in its frame as the heavy body of one of Dean’s escorts to his new home rammed into the flimsy piece of wood.
Slowly, the hunter got to his feet, face devoid of all emotion, and marched to the door. It shook again, splintering a little at the edges. Accepting his fate, Dean reached out a steady hand and pulled open the door.
Ten years. It had taken them ten years to finally find him, and when they had, there hadn’t even been enough of him left to scoop into a Ziplock baggy.
Ten years, and a few scattered limbs and splotches of blood and tissue were all Sam and John Winchester could find. It just wasn’t right. It would never be right. Never again.
Ten years of searching, of calling, of begging him to come back and enjoy the family he’d always wanted, the family the Winchesters had become since John’s return.
Revenge had been put aside as the two men searched desperately, called constantly. They’d tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d been tricked. Dean had simply told them he’d been too weak, and that he’d told.
It had taken Sam and his father a while to figure out exactly what that meant. The first part was easy. He’d given in to temptation, albeit unknowingly, and felt just as guilty about it as he had once he’d put two and two together and started blaming himself for John’s death.
John was the one who had finally figured it out. Dean had told the secret, revealed his father’s dying words to the single person he had been told to hide them from.
Ten years, and John hadn’t been able to tell him in person that he wasn’t mad, that demons lie, and that he loved his oldest boy more than life itself.
Ten years, and all he had of his son was a bloody mess and a tarnished amulet.
Ten years, and he hadn’t been able to fix his son.
Ten years, and he finally saw his mistake.
Ten years too late.
Raven524 - January 19, 2007 09:32 AM (GMT)
Sam felt something crunch under his feet as he walked near the end of the bed. Bending down he picked up the object and sat back on his heals. He was holding a small engagement ring in his hand; the words of Ava flowed through his mind in a flash.
“In 8 weeks I’m going to be married…” as she showed him the ring on her hand.
Sam swallowed at the memory and whispered her name. “Ava”
Dean moved quickly towards Sam. “Come on, we need to get out of here before someone calls the cops.”
Sam still sat in a stupor, the horror of what he had done slowly sinking into his subconscious, he had sent her back. He had sent her back and now her fiancé was lying in a pool of blood, his throat slashed. He had sent her back and now she was missing and it was all his fault.
Dean could feel the guilt rolling off his brother. He knelt down beside Sam. “Come on Sammy…you know this wasn’t your fault. Now let’s get a move on. Make sure you wipe down anything you touched. We don’t need your face on the FBI’s most wanted list…mine is enough.”
Sam heard his brother, but he felt like he was under water. The reality of the situation was almost too much for him to take. He looked up and blinked as Dean grabbed him around the shoulders and gently nudged him towards the door. Sam stumbled from the house and headed towards the Impala. He climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Dean to arrive.
Dean quickly went through the house making sure that there was no sign of them being there. He shook his head at the man lying on the bed. He hoped that Ava didn’t have to watch or that she was the one who had actually done the cutting. He had to believe that not every person with abilities would turn dark side…he had to believe it to stay sane.
As Dean moved towards the car, he noticed Sam sitting in the passenger seat, his eyes staring straight forward. Dean shook his head; Sam hadn’t even dealt with learning that he was destined for some deep dark future and now this. Dean climbed into the car and started the engine without saying a word. What could he say?
Dean headed the car down the road and found a small hotel. Getting out, he quickly registered them and then drove the car around to the door. He watched as Sam exited the car and grabbed his bag. He waited as Dean opened the door and entered. Dean watched as Sam dropped his bag on the floor and headed for the bathroom, closing the door with a quiet click, signifying that he wanted to be alone.
Sam looked in the mirror at the haunted face that was his own. He had found out that his worst fears were true. He was destined to become some sort of monster, a soldier in a war and yet he had no idea how or when it would happen. As he ran water in the sink and splashed his face, he tried to figure out his next move. He had told Dean he wanted to face things head on and he had meant it. Hiding wasn’t an option and neither was running…but how could he fight something that he didn’t even understand.
Sam sat on the toilet seat and placed his head in his hands. He knew that Dean would be knocking on the door soon and that he would try to make things better. But he also knew that Dean couldn’t fix this. Dean couldn’t protect him from what was coming and in the end, Dean might end up getting himself killed. Sure enough, as predicted there was a loud knocking on the bathroom door.
“Hey Sammy…you know you’re not the only one who needs the facilities…come on out man!” Dean called through the door.
“Just a minute Dean…keep your pants on. I’ll be right out.” Sam stood and once again checked his face in the mirror. He hoped that he could hide the pain and despair from his brother…at least for a little while. Dean had let him share the load and he intended to help his brother with it…even if it killed him.
One Week Later….
Sam slammed the lid on the computer in frustration. He and Dean had been looking for Ava for a week now. The police had found the body and Ava was now listed as a missing person. But no one had heard anything from her. Sam drew a shaky hand through his hair as he sipped on the coffee in front of him. He hadn’t slept hardly at all and it was catching up with him. But each time he closed his eyes, the nightmares would begin, all ending the same when Ave appeared with yellow eyes to taunt him.
Sam jumped as the door opened but relaxed a moment later when he saw the familiar figure of his brother walk into the room. “Dude, you forgot to knock…I could have killed you!” Sam complained.
“You would need to be holding a gun for that Sammy…by the way where is your gun?” Dean’s eyebrow rose as he dropped the fast food bags on the table.
Sam pulled his hand from under the table and replaced the safety on the gun as he laid it on the table in front of him. “Lucky for you, I don’t shoot and ask questions later!”
Dean punched Sam in the shoulder. “I was counting on it Sammy…besides, I had my hands full of our lunch. So, any luck?”
Sam shook his head. “No, I thought I’d go down to the police station again and take a look at the reports. Maybe they have come up with something.”
“Sammy, Ash is keeping track of that for us. I checked with Ellen and so far nothing has shown up. She has some folks helping us search. We’re doing everything we can Sammy. Now I want you to eat this lunch and then you are going to take a nap.”
“Don’t Dean me…I know you haven’t slept more than a couple of hours during the past week…you’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up.”
Sam looked down and mumbled. “Maybe it would be better if I did.”
Dean’s eyebrow shot up. “What does that mean? Sammy…so help me God if you are thinking of doing anything stupid…I’ll beat your a**” Dean took a closer look at his brother concerned about Sam’s depression since Ava disappeared.
Sam just shook his head as he turned away from the food and headed to the bed. He plopped down on it and covered his eyes with his arm. “Nothing Dean…I didn’t mean anything…you’re right…I should try to get some sleep.”
Dean watched as Sam’s breathing evened out and hoped that this time the nightmares that had been plaguing his brother would let him sleep. He was worried about Sam, his brother wasn’t dealing with any of this well and he knew that no matter what he said, his brother would blame himself if anything happened to Ava.
Dean pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to Ellen.
“Hey Ellen, any word yet on Ava?”
“No Dean, but listen…you and Sam have to lay low for a bit…I was just going to call you. Ash heard that Gordon made bail…he could be heading in your direction and this time he might not be alone.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked looking at Sam as he lowered his voice.
“It means that after you talked to me, I had Ash do some digging. I thought we should know who we could count on and who may become an enemy. He gave me a couple of names…hunters who believe like Gordon that anything that isn’t normal should be killed.”
“Just freakin’ great. Sam won’t leave here until he finds Ava and this is probably the first place that Gordon and his friends will be looking.” Dean began to pace, pausing to look out the window. Suddenly he was feeling too exposed in the motel.
“I’m sorry Dean, for what it’s worth; I’ve got a few hunters looking for them. They’ll let me know as soon as they find them.”
“Thanks Ellen…let me know what you find out.” Dean hung up the phone and sat on the bed opposite Sam. He knew that he had to tell Sam, he had decided that there would be no more secrets…he needed Sam to trust him if he was going to keep him safe.
Dean sighed as he started to quietly pack their things. It was time to find a new location; they’d have to keep moving if they wanted to avoid being found. Dean looked at the sleeping form of his brother, for the first time in a while his brother’s face wasn’t showing pain or sorrow. He actually looked peaceful. Too bad, that it wouldn’t last long.
Two Weeks Later
Sam sat at a table and watched the rain falling outside the window. He sighed as he realized that they would be leaving again today to find another location. He was getting real tired of running. He had gone along with it to please Dean, but he knew that sooner or later if Gordon was looking for him…he would find him.
Dean had gone out to see if he could find any signs of Gordon in the area. So far none of the other hunters that Ellen had asked to search had found anything. When Sam had tried to go with, Dean had told him no and that he was to stay put; so Sam had stayed while Dean once again put himself at risk to keep him safe.
Sam was feeling trapped, his whole world turned upside down by the secret that his father had made Dean keep. He really wasn’t sure that it was worth going on…the only thing that kept him in the game right now was his need love for his brother Dean. Dean was the anchor that kept him from drifting. Sam just hoped that he was strong enough to hold on.
Dean slammed the car door as he got behind the wheel of his car. Yet another lead had fallen through. Gordon was no where to be found and yet Dean sensed he was close by. He had learned to trust his instincts and they were screaming at him that Gordon would make another try to get his little brother. He now understood why his father had kept him and Sam away from the hunter community. He must have known that there were hunters who would kill Sam. Dean put the car in gear and headed back to the hotel. It was time for them to move yet again.
He had been worried about leaving Sam behind. But he couldn’t risk having him walk around in public. A long range rifle could easily take his brother down and he knew that Gordon was an expert with one. “Damn it Dad…you should have told me more! How did you expect me to keep him safe when you never confided in me?”
As Dean pulled into the parking space in front of the hotel, his heart stopped. The door to their room was open. Reaching for his gun, he quickly moved to enter the room. The inside of the room was a mess. Sam had put up a good fight, but then he saw the blood on the floor.
“Sammy!” Dean cried as he searched the room, already knowing what he would find. Sam was gone and he hadn’t gone willingly.
Sam groaned as his body was thrown yet again against the side of the van. His mind flashed back to the hotel and the splintering of the door that signaled he was no longer alone. He had managed to get a shot off and hit one of the men in the leg before the others swarmed in. He had counted four men, all in ski masks. He had managed to get a few good hits in before the world went dark. He wasn’t sure what they had hit him with, but his head was pounding.
Sam blinked as the van came to a stop and the doors were opened. “Hi there Sammy…I bet you thought you were real smart calling the cops like that.”
“Well, it seemed like a good plan at the time Gordon…I guess I should have let Dean kill you when he had the chance.” Sam said defiantly as he was dragged from the van.
“Well, you see Sammy…it just goes to show how weak you really are. Your brother had the right idea, you kill the threat. Otherwise, it will come back and kill you. But then, according to him you don’t have it in you.” Gordon motioned for the men to bring Sam into the abandoned house.
Sam fought against the men holding him and almost broke free, but once again they managed to get him under control and drag him into the house. “You know Sammy; I was just going to kill you before. I was going to make it nice and quick on account of my respect for your father and brother. But then I found out that you have these visions…visions of the other freaks of nature and I thought to myself that maybe we could use that to our advantage.”
Sam continued to fight as the others in the room quickly tied him to the chair, making sure that the binding was tight. “Well if you found out about the visions Gordon, you know I can’t control them and even if I could…I wouldn’t help you.”
Sam’s head snapped back as Gordon hit him square in the face. Sam tasted blood from his cut lip and could feel the bruise beginning on his face. “Oh, I think you’ll help me. You see, your brother isn’t here to protect you and believe me; I have ways of getting information. You’ll either help me or you’ll die. Either way, I’m going to make sure that you freaks of nature don’t ever get to serve the demon.”
Gordon turned to the other men and pulled out a wad of cash from his pockets. “Here you go gentlemen. Thanks for helping me out.”
Sam watched as the men left. “Who were they? I’m surprised Gordon, you normally work alone.”
“Ah Sammy, I normally would have, but you see...thanks to you I’m now a wanted man. I can’t be seen in public. Now where were we…Oh yes! You were going to tell me about all your freaky friends.” Gordon punched Sam in the face again.
Sam groaned as the pain in his face exploded. Gordon had broken his nose. “I won’t tell you a thing Gordon…you can just go to hell!”
“Fine Sammy, I was hoping you would say that…you see I’ve got plenty of time to work on you and frankly, I really don’t care if you survive or not.”
Dean was frantic, Sam had been missing for two whole days and there still was no sign of either Gordon or his brother. Dean had gotten a listing of all the vacant properties in the area and had been checking each one. He knew that Gordon preferred to use abandoned homes. Unfortunately, there were over 40 homes in the area that would be the type of place that Gordon would enjoy using.
Dean’s phone rang as he pulled away from yet another abandoned house. “Hello Ellen, any news?”
“Well, yes maybe some good news. We’ve found the other hunters I told you about and they aren’t involved…so it looks like Gordon is acting on his own in this one.”
Dean sighed. “Yeah, that’s good…but has Ash been able to narrow this list down any for me? I’ve checked half the list and all I’ve managed to scare up is a few rats, some squatters and oh yeah, one was a crack house…that was real fun!”
“I’m sorry Dean, but if Gordon stayed in the area, he would be using one of those locations. Are you sure you don’t want me to send you some help?”
“No thanks, I’ll find him.”
“I know you will honey, but you let me know if you need anything else, you hear?”
Dean hung up the phone and pulled out the list. He turned the car around and headed for the next location. He only hoped he would get there in time.
Sam felt the cold water as it dripped down his face. He groaned as he opened his one good eye and glared at the man standing in front of him. “You know Sammy…I really don’t enjoy doing this. I’m not a killer.”
“Looks like you’re doing a pretty good imitation of one now Gordon…explain to me the difference between you and oh let’s say Hitler…he was big on ethnic cleansing. In fact, you would have been on his hit list as well.”
Sam groaned as Gordon punched him in the ribs, gasping at the pain that radiated through his body. He knew that the beatings had probably broken one or two ribs already and Gordon was now working on breaking some more.
“The difference is, Hitler killed humans…but you’re not human Sammy. You’re no better than the filthy things you used to hunt. Why else would you have wanted to spare those fangs? You spared them because they were like you…unnatural and evil to the core.”
Sam shook his head, his vision blurring as he felt Gordon pull his head back sharply. “You may not be a killer yet Sammy…but we all know that you can’t avoid your destiny. I’ve done my research on you. Your mama died, your girlfriend died and even your father died all to because you are attached to that damn demon. Well, no one else is going to die because of you Sammy. I’ll make sure of it!”
“You’re insane Gordon.” Sam said quietly, Gordon’s words coming too close to home for his own comfort. The truth was, he knew that as long as he lived, anyone around him was at risk. Maybe Gordon was right. Maybe he should let him kill him and be done with it. Then at least Dean would be spared.
As Sam started to drift back to unconsciousness he heard a soft sound behind Gordon. Sam tried to focus, but his eyes were refusing to obey him. He watched through the haze as a slender hand grabbed Gordon and threw him down onto the floor. A flash of auburn hair and Sam knew who he was looking at. “Ava…NO!”
Ava never turned but pulled out the short knife and quickly slashed Gordon’s throat. As Gordon gasped his eyes moved to look at Sam in horror, the accusation in his eyes burning into Sam’s soul as he watched the man’s life force leak from his body and the light leave his eyes.
Sam struggled against his bonds, trying to get free. “Ava…why?”
Ava turned to Sam and blinked. “I had to save you Sam…just like before. He told me that I had to keep you safe. He has plans for you and I Sam, wonderful plans. But you aren’t ready yet. When the time is right, he’ll come for you and you will welcome him just like I have.”
“Ava, please fight this. You don’t have to kill anymore.” Sam begged.
“I don’t have a choice Sam…” Ava moved closer to him and knelt beside him. She looked up at him and for a second, Sam saw the pain in the depth of her eyes. It was like she was begging him to help her, to save her.
“Ava, cut me loose. I’ll help you!” Sam watched as Ava stood and sadly shook her head.
“No Sam, I’m sure that brother of yours will find you soon. Besides I have nothing to go to anymore.” Ava began to turn from Sam.
“Ava, the demon…he killed your fiancé…he’s evil. You need to fight him and I can help you. Please let me help you.”
Ava turned to Sam with a sad smile on her face. “Sam, my fiancé was dead before I first met you…I killed him…I had to…but don’t worry Sam. You and I are destined to be together again.”
Sam watched as Ava walked out the door into the night. As his body finally gave in to the blackness, he cried. He cried for the woman he had met and he cried for himself as he saw his future in her eyes.
It had been almost four days now since Sam had disappeared and Dean still had 10 houses left to search. He had barely slept or eaten during that time. As he pulled up to yet another house in another run down area of town, he began to feel the hopelessness of the situation. Sam was probably dead by now. Gordon was not a patient man and he was on the run. “Oh God Sammy, I’m so sorry.” Dean muttered as he let his head rest on the steering wheel for a moment.
Dean jumped as his cell phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID and almost dropped the phone. “SAMMY!”
Dean could barely hear his brother, he sounded really bad. “Sammy, can you tell me where you are?”
“House…don’t know where…Gordon…Ava…Dean…..” Dean heard something fall and a groan.
“Sammy, damn it can you get outside, can you see a number on the house?” Dean heard a muffled groan and what sounded like foot steps moving unsteadily along the floor. Just as he was about to give up he heard heavy breathing on the phone again.
“3625…number on door…Dean…Dean…please” The phone went dead before Dean could answer. Pulling out the list of addresses he ran his finger down until he found the number that Sam had found on the door. “Bingo! Ok, Sammy hold on I’m coming!”
Fifteen minutes later, Dean was cautiously opening the door on the old house. He moved quietly into the main room and stopped as he saw two bodies on the floor. Gordon was staring with his eyes wide open in terror, looking at the other body that was lying on the floor. “Oh God, Sammy!” Dean cried as he ran forward. He turned his brother over and gasped. Sam’s face was bruised almost beyond recognition. A quick review also showed that his brother probably had a few cracked ribs. Dean noticed that the chair in the room was broken and the ropes were lying on the floor near by. Sam must have broken the chair to get free. But that didn’t explain what had happened to Gordon.
“Ok Sam, you and I need to have a long talk, but first I need to get you out of here.” Dean picked Sam up and placed him across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He quickly placed Sam in the back seat of the car and then went back into the house to make sure that there was nothing to point to his brother. He took a final look at Gordon “I can’t say that I’m sorry to see you dead you sick bastard…I just wish that I could have been the one to do it.”
Three Weeks Later
Dean was woken from his sleep as he heard Sam tossing and moaning on the other bed. He quickly moved to his brother’s side. “Shhhh Sammy…it’s only a dream.”
“Dean…what? Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Sam said quietly as he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder. He had been dreaming about Ava again. He couldn’t get the picture of her killing Gordon out of his head.
“Look Sam, we are still looking for her ok, but you have to stop blaming yourself. She told you that she killed her husband before she came to see you. That means you didn’t send her back to the demon, he already had her.”
Sam sat up and groaned, his ribs reminding him that he still was not totally healed from his time with Gordon. “I know Dean, it’s just…I feel like it’s not too late to help her…I saw something in her eyes. She’s not totally gone yet Dean.”
Dean understood Sam’s need to save her and in truth he really hoped that she could be saved. Because then it would mean that Sam had a chance, a chance to escape whatever the dark destiny was that the demon had planned for him.
“Well, Sammy I never thought I’d say this…but I’m glad that the demon decided that you were still valuable to him. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now being a pain in my ass.”
Sam smiled softly and looked at Dean. “Thanks Dean.”
“You never give up on me do you?”
“I told you that Dad ordered me to save you…and that is one order I intend to obey” Dean said as he stood and yawned. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to get back to my own dream…she and I were just getting ready to try out the new hot tub when you so rudely interrupted us.” Dean ducked as the pillow sailed by his head.
Sam stood and started for the bathroom. He almost made it when he heard a soft voice in the dark following him. “I’ll always be there for you Sammy…I won’t let anything bad happened to you and that’s a promise.”
Sam smiled for the first time in days as he said quietly. “The same here bro’…the same here.”
scifi-karis - January 19, 2007 02:55 PM (GMT)
In My Time of Dying (season two)
A tag to In My Time of Dying - warning! Spoilers for season two!
“Time of death, 10:41 a.m.”
A flip of a switch, then silence.
Sam and Dean stared at the motionless body of their father.
“No,” Dean whispered. “No . . . no, no, no.” The protest was breathed over and over, barely heard by Sam, who staggered over to the hospital bed. Sam tentatively reached out and touched his father’s hand. It was cold. Lifeless. The tears that had been burning in Sam’s eyes finally spilled over.
How could this happen? John Winchester was the strongest man they knew, and here he lay, cold and unmoving.
The protest rose in Dean’s mind. This couldn’t be happening. How could his father dare leave him after the secret that had been passed? How could Dean hold this burden alone?
“Dad,” Sam whispered, his voice breaking. “Oh God.”
Dean pushed aside the clamor of denial in his mind, knowing he had to be there for Sammy. Sam couldn’t shoulder their father’s death alone. Slowly, Dean shuffled forward, never taking his eyes off of his father’s face, until he was standing next to Sam.
The mere presence of his older brother at his side was enough to make Sam want to collapse on the floor, sobbing in grief. Dean was the strong one, the pillar of steadiness in the family. Just knowing that his brother was there was enough for Sam to know that everything was going to be alright.
Dean was silent and unmoving, his eyes dry. The shock had not left him, but inside, he felt dead. He was an empty black hole, feeling nothing.
“Dean,” Sam began, then found he could not finish his thought. He raised a hand to his eyes, trying to hide the tears.
Slowly, Dean laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. It was the only gesture of affection he could muster.
The secret his father had told him burdened him, and he could feel anger burning inside of him, anger because his father had not warned him before. How could his father leave him now? How could he do this to him?
But he had to be there. He had to be there for Sammy.
And in that one moment, Dean grew up.
dean_an_sam_rock - January 20, 2007 11:22 AM (GMT)
Pilot - 1.01
A tag to the end of pilot - random thoughts/feelings.
The fiery orange haze lit the dark night brightly, the flickering of the flames casting a shadow over the faces of the small crowd of onlookers that had assembled to watch the tragedy. Firefighters calmly attended to the blaze, shooting hard jets of water at the burning apartment, smothering the heat, ending the spectacle, but too late for the young woman inside.
At the back of the crowd, Dean stood, his jaw line tight and set grimly, his eyes never leaving the blaze. He felt partly responsible for this; he had taken his brother away. After all those years of nothing, he’d come and expected Sam to join him. And being the loyal brother Sam is, he had. He’d questioned Dean, but had caved. And now his girlfriend was dead, killed by the evil that had claimed their mother. Sam didn’t deserve this.
Slowly Dean peeled his eyes away from the building, gradually walking over and joining his brother at the trunk of the impala. He watched in silence as Sam, quiet but determined, loaded a shotgun in preparation for the road ahead.
‘We have work to do.’
The shotgun clattered loudly as it landed in the trunk, Sam staring at it dully as he closed the lid on it. Dean looked helplessly at Sam as his brother struggled to contain his emotion.
He slowly looked up at Dean, his older brother, his mentor…his best friend, and his eyes shone with tears that welled fast in his eyes. Dean looked back sympathetically, pained at the expression his brother gave him, before their gaze broke, and Sam slid into the car. Dean, taking one last glance at the building, sat in the seat beside him, the rumble of the impala hitting the somber night as it roared into the distance.
Sam gazed out of the window; the few stars twinkling innocently above him, their light cheerful and illuminating like nothing was wrong. The outside world flew past; a blur, a mere distraction for Sam’s eyes as his mind raced on. Jess…his true love, gone. Her life claimed in an unnatural ball of fire that should never have come near her. He’d been a danger to her; he’d known he was a danger, yet it hadn’t been enough for him to do anything about it. This burden; this memory, to remain embedded in his mind, his soul, for eternity. He would never forget…
He sat in that car a broken man, a man whose world had been turned upside down after being so perfect. He had had everything…and now it was gone. His father was missing; his girlfriend and his mother dead...
His thoughts were interrupted by Dean, who had laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder.
‘I know this is probably a stupid question…but are you ok?’ Dean asked quietly, his eyes full of worry and concern.
And Sam realised, then, that he hadn’t lost everything. He had Dean. Though it was hard to have lost so much, he’d gained something he truly longed to have back again. His brother. That was the only thing that mattered; that Dean hadn’t left him.
He gave a small smile in return.
‘No…but I will be,’ he replied softly.
Dean accepted this, and the car lapsed back into silence as it shot on through the night. Everything would be ok.
It had to be.
burstynout - January 20, 2007 03:22 PM (GMT)
It doesn't change any endings, but does sort of hint at an alternate ending of some canon characters.
Pilot, Bloody Mary, Home, Asylum, Scarecrow, Faith, Hell House, and Croatoan specifically. Mostly season one, though I could have picked scenes from just about any episode to make the same point.
Warning: I can't ever kill 'em, but this might be interpreted as a death fic, and as I hate death fics that don't have warnings, I'm warning ya. But like I said, I don't kill anyone here.
What Lucid Dreams May Come
Sam kisses her like she’ll dissolve; with his eyes closed, as if in a dream. He can only feel her, smell her, taste her, but he knows she is there. She is real. He wraps himself around her, keeps her solid, keeps her real, though he can’t see her, and he lets himself hope that once they’re asleep, she’ll still be this – soft, and warm, and sparking under his fingertips like static on cold stainless steel.
He lets himself believe that she’ll stay that way forever, never brokenbleedingtwistedburning above him.
Never the way he sees her when he dreams.
He’s tired, though, and so is she. Sleep comes, and with it dreams. And this time, Dean comes, too.
Sam knows that Constance jumped to her death off this very bridge. So when the ghost-driven Impala coasts to a stop, and he has time to catch his breath, the fact that Dean isn’t right there beside him causes his heart to leap into his throat. It’s a long way down.
Sam swallows hard against the icy fist that’s gripped him in its talons, adjusts his grasp tentatively, and hauls himself up. He closes his eyes, afraid what he’ll find when he opens them, because he can’t see Dean brokenbleedingmangleddying below him. He won’t. He pushes that thought as far from him as possible because he needs his brother to be okay. When he closes his eyes and calls out, “Dean,” he believes Dean can answer.
And Dean does. He might smell like a toilet, but smelly is okay, better than okay. It’s as real as skinned knees, and stomach flu, and stitches without anesthetic; all the things he needs Dean for. And Dean, sitting beside him, right where Sam needs him to be, that’s Dean exactly the way Sam sees him when he closes his eyes to sleep. That’s the Dean he’s dreamed about since he was six months old.
Where else would he be?
When Jess isn’t home, Sam worries, but he eats the chocolate chip cookies, tastes Jess in his mouth, and lies back on the bed to see what dreams will come.
Dean comes again. Sam needs him, because Jess is brokenbleedingtwistedburning above him, just like she always is in his dreams. Dean saves him, just the way Dean always does, the way Sam knows he always will.
The belief is Sam’s, and the need is mutual. They’re both broken, and neither has anywhere to be but together, for now.
They bleed together, before the mirror breaks. Sam believes he killed Jess, and Dean doesn’t. Mary doesn’t care. She doesn’t see grey. It’s what Sam believes that matters, what Sam believes that draws her out.
Sam has a hard time believing that Dean’s eyes bleed, too. But this isn’t the Dean that Sam remembers. This is the one he broke. Sam believes there are some things they keep for themselves, including just what it is that’s broken.
So they bleed together in silence, brothers in blood, because that’s what brothers do. Neither has a hard time believing that.
Dean’s nowhere around when the demon in their old house catches Sam. He’s nowhere around when the electrical cord snakes around Sam’s neck and tries to wring the life out of him, without mercy. Sam needs him so badly just then, but Dean isn’t there.
And so, the life drains from him, like sand through an hourglass, taking with it the light, until all Sam knows is darkness. It’s deeper than sleep, his last breath a dream, and Dean comes.
Sam needs him. Where else would he be?
Missouri threatens to beat him with a spoon, and Mary seems surprised to see him there, maybe a little sad, but Sam is glad Dean is with him, taking Missouri’s abuse and suffering Mary’s sleight, when he sees his mother, really sees her, for the first and last time that he will ever remember before she’s cryingsighingburninggone.
This is home. This is where families belong. Their family began and ended here; a brother became a father here, and a sibling became a hero-slash-martyr in the hour of its demise. Where else would Dean be?
When Sam pulls the trigger and Dean flies away from him, then writhes, and moans, and pleads, Sam doesn’t see the irony.
After he steals the car and heads back to Burkittsville to rescue Dean from the danger he just knows that Dean is in, Sam realizes that in a matter of days, he has twice condemned his brother for being exactly what Sam already knows he is.
Loyal, trusting, and true. Dean is all these things to a fault. Sam knows this and expects it. Nothing is new except Sam’s desire for Dean to be more. Sam wants to believe that Dean can be more. He’ll have to fix that.
Yeah, he needs to fix Dean's ass, just as soon as he saves it. But Dean's gonna take awhile to fix. Sam's okay with that.
Dean’s lying too still in the water by the time Sam gallops down the stairs, three at a time, and dives to his side, oblivious of the freezing liquid and stench of burnt flesh and death that surrounds him. Dean looks dead. And Sam knows he should be, judging by the discharged taser clenched in his brother’s fist and the power that Sam knows that weapon once held.
But Sam’s Dean is never dead. That’s not how Sam needs him. He needs his Dean here, and real, and now, so when he presses his fingers to the clammy skin of Dean’s neck, Sam finds a pulse. There is no other option. Of course Dean is still here. Where else would he be?
Dean tells Sam he can’t fix it. But Sam doesn’t believe that. Not for one minute. He doesn’t believe Dean can die. Not Sam’s Dean. Sam’s Dean is always there for Sam, and that’s just the way it is. So, when he lies back on his bed for a second, surrounded by books, and printouts, and medical reports, he dreams of a cure, and the phone rings.
And Sam isn’t surprised that the cure works. Because Dean is always there when Sam needs him. And Jess is always brokenbleedingtwistedburning.
Sam prefers his dreams of Dean.
Sam almost finds the truth in Texas. He gets close enough to question his own reality.
“How many of the things we hunt are only real because people believe they are?”
He never asks, “How many of the hunters…?” Because, well, he might be heart-on-his-sleeve wearing dude, Mr. Chick Flick Moments himself, but that doesn’t mean he treads on eggshells when he can walk around them. Especially when his whole world is painted on them in shades of Dean.
Instead, giddy with laughter from days of pranks, and play, and being brothers, brothers just like they once were, the way Sam remembers them, he lets the thought pass.
And they go on, roadtripping brothers, passing the same landmarks a hundred times, skirting the same issues. Dean almost dies, almost breaks, never leaves, and Sam isn’t surprised at all, because Dean belongs with him. Where else would he be?
When the demon virus taints him, Sam wants Dean to escape, doesn’t want him marred, and evil, and angry. So he tells Dean to live, to go on without Sam.
“Maybe I don’t want to,” Dean says.
What he doesn’t say is, “I can’t.” He doesn’t say that he can’t be Dean without Sam. He doesn’t have to, because Dean believes it. Deep down somewhere, Sam believes that, too.
If they believe it, it must be true. After all, Bloody Mary didn’t see grey areas, and neither do Sam and Dean. Their daddy didn't raise them that way.
This is better, because if they see only black-and-white, they cannot look into the grey blanket of the fog and see that they disappear in the mist.
Sam has dreams, and sometimes they come true. Dean had dreams once, and they all included Sam.
Now they dream together.
Not all of Sam’s dreams are nightmares. His dreams include Dean, too. He just doesn’t know it yet. And he won’t.
Until they are fixed, they are too broken to see Dean anywhere but where Sam needs him to be. Until Dean is fixed, Sam can’t let him go. Until Dean is more, they will only see the black-and-white - the natural, alive, and warm; the supernatural, dead, and cold.
Dreams are black-and-white.
Tulpas are grey, but they wear Dean-colored masks. Sam sees them. His keeps him safe.
A/N: This is a blatant rip off of the video game, Final Fantasy X. This is Dean=Tidus.
A/N2: I apologize to anyone who read this and didn't get that Dean is Sam's tulpa. I don't like to pull punches when I write, which means, sometimes people get TKO'd by my logic. Again, I apologize.
sp1321 - January 20, 2007 04:42 PM (GMT)
Tag for Hunted…Season 2
“ What happened to the girl it was possessing?” Dean asked.
“She didn’t make it” Gordon replied
“Well you’re a sonofabitch”
- - - -
Gordon got up from where he was sitting and walked over to Dean (who was tied down to the chair. Ropes around his bare wrists and his ankles). “You know I still owe you a good beating for what you did to me awhile back there boy.” Gordon smiled as he punched Dean in the ribs. Dean was sure at least one cracked but he didn’t show he was in any pain. Gordon laughed again then punched Dean in the face. Blood was now spilling out of Dean’s broken nose and running down over his lips and chin. “You know kid your not half the man your daddy was. He would have killed Sam himself, instead of keeping the little freak safe.” Gordon threw another punch and hit Dean in the throat. Dean gasped for breath.
“You know Gordy your really lucky I’m tied to this chair right now. Cuz you and I both now in a fair fight between you and me, I’m not the one who gets his ass kicked.” Dean rasped.
Gordon pulled out his hunting knife and stabbed it into Dean’s shoulder. The knife went in just above his right collarbone, and stuck into the back of the chair. Pinning dean to it. “Well were not fighting fair are we Dean” Gordon smiled as Dean trying to calm his rapid breathing. “You know kid I’m think Sam doesn’t really care about you, he should be hear by now.”
“shows how much you now jacka**” Sam said as he cocked the gun and had it pointed at the back of Gordon’s head. “Drop the gun now or I will blow your brains all over this place”
“Now, now Sam you and I both know you can’t pull that trigger” Gordon smiled as he dropped his rifle. But before Sam could react Gordon struck out at Sam, sending Sam’s pistol across the room towards Dean.
Dean was fighting hard against the ropes that had his wrists tied down to the chair. He watched helpless as Gordon sent punches at Sam’s face. Dean pulled and pulled he couldn’t let Gordon hurt Sam. With all the force dean had, he pushed his two thumbs into the chair rails. After a few agonizing seconds he dislocated both and was able to slid his blooded wrists free of the ropes. That’s when he saw it Gordon had kicked Sam square in the chest sending Sam threw a wall. Dean grabbed the hunting knife with left hand and pulled sending pain throughout his shoulder and dislocated thumb. When he pulled it free he cut the ropes around his ankles and grabbed Sam’s gun that was lying beside him. Then he saw Gordon, he had a small knife raised in the air and was preparing to stab Sam in the throat. Dean didn’t even hesitate a shot rang out and Gordon fell beside Sam a bullet hole threw his skull. Dean took off over to Sam’s side. Sam was already getting up when Dean got to him. “Sammy you ok” Dean asked seeing the cut on Sam’s cheek.
Sam was now standing and looking at Dean. “Are you kidding I’m not the one who looks like he got hit with a truck. How the hell did you get free you were tied down and I’m guessing that knife had you pinned to the chair” Sam said as he looked at dean’s many injuries. When Dean brought his left hand up to wipe the blood from his nose Sam noticed his thumb was dislocated. Sam grabbed both of Dean’s wrists and tried to inspect, but dean hissed in pain.
“Damn Sammy watch it. Come on you can baby me when we get out of here.” Sam let go and they made there way out to the Impala. Dean went to get in the drivers seat when Sam grabbed the back of his shirt.
“You can’t drive with two dislocated thumbs, Dean you idiot” Dean turned and looked at Sam.
“Fine hurry up and put them back in so we can leave” Sam grabbed the right one first and pulled. Then quickly did the second. “Sonofa” Dean cursed as he tried to push down the pain.
“Dean why don’t you let me drive I mean your really hurt”
“No way Sam I saw you go threw that wall and hit your head no way your driving my car”
20 minutes later Sam and Dean arrived at a motel. Sam helped stitch up dean’s shoulder, clean his wrists, and reset his nose.
“Dean I’m really sorry man”
“For what” dean asked and slowly slid a t-shirt back on, wincing at the pain it caused.
“For getting you hurt man. It was all my fault, Gordon catching you and beating the crap out you. Not to mention I know you dislocated your thumbs to get the ropes off. Then had to pull that big ass knife out by yourself. Its just…”
Dean cut him off “Sam, yeah I did those things to save you, my choice, and dude in case you forgot I tied Gordy up and let him sit there for 4 days. I pretty sure he just wanted a little revenge. Now listen and listen good Sammy none of this was your fault.”
Dean cut him off again “Sam end of story man I beat the shit out Gordy, he repaid the favor. Has to piss his dead ass off I got that last laugh though.” Dean smirked and Sam shock his head. “Oh and Sam if you ever run away from me again, I promise you I will kick your freaky ass.”
Gave it a try............Don't really like it much but hey can't get better if you never write......
killermis - January 21, 2007 05:07 AM (GMT)
Thought I would give it a try... Additional Scene not alternate ending..
Playthings Season 2
“As long as I’m around nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”
Sam chuckled to himself as he remembered his brothers promise. He watched as the ambulance took the body away. He hadn’t been able to save that man from dying. If he couldn’t save a stranger, how the hell was he supposed to save himself? Sam rose out of his chair and trudged his way to the mini bar. He grabbed the large bottle of tequila and took a giant swig.
He couldn’t save himself. He was gonna turn into a killer, just like Max had, just like Andy and his twin had. What was his name again? Sam couldn’t remember, so he took another swig. Sam was useless. And cursed. And the people he loved would always suffer. Then again, who was left for him to hurt?
“Dean.” Sam answered his thoughts. Dean, he had to save Dean. He had to fight hard, and change his destiny so he could protect his brother, so he could save him, as Dean had always done for Sam.
He couldn’t save Dean anymore than he could save Ava. Or Jessica, or their father, or their mother. Or Max, Or Andy’s twin. God what was his name? Anyway, they all had died just as the man being taken away now. Sam took another drink.
Dean would have to save himself from Sam. Sam knew his brother could easily escape from him if he ever became a monster. But what about everyone else? All the people he would hurt, all the pain he would cause. All the blood that would spill.
“Dean’s gonna have to stop me.” Sam said bringing the bottle to his lips again. Their father was right, Dean would have to kill Sam if he ever turned.
“I hope you can keep your promise.” Sam said. “Because if we both know what your gonna have to do.” At this point the bottle fell out of his hand, and Sam stared out the window in a daze. He knew what his brother would have to do, he just hoped his brother did.
cry_wolf - January 21, 2007 09:39 AM (GMT)
Additional Scene to Hunted...Season 2.
Carly’s head fell to her chest and bobbed weakly as blood flowed from the cut on her forehead. Her chestnut brown hair was matted down with the crimson liquid and her slender arms were black and blue from the beatings she had received. “Why?” she asked in a mere whisper, unable to really say anything more.
A tall man emerged from the shadows and slowly approached the poor girl that was bound to the chair. He knelt down in front of her and gently stroked her face. “Why Carly? Is the concept that hard to understand?” he taunted.
She released a soft sob and avoiding looking the man in the eyes. She didn’t respond but her inquisitive mind was begging to know the answer.
He let the moonlight shining from the window bounce off his hunting knife. “You’re just like all the others. You’re a menace to society. You’re a killer Carly. Hell, even your freakin name means powerful.”
“I’m…not…a killer!” she shouted and her body trembled in result of the sharp outburst.
“Oh sweetheart, you might not be one now…but you will be. You and all of the other children just like you.” The stranger chuckled a little. “Destiny’s a bitch, ain’t she?”
“Go to Hell,” she hissed as she struggled to steady her head.
“You first babe.”
There was a beat of cold silence.
“How’d you find me?”
“Let’s just say, you use the right tools, and the demons get to talking.”
“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.” He gripped the butt of the knife tightly before slamming it against her face and in result, snapping her neck.
Carly’s head fell to her chest once again, but this time it didn’t rise.
The man grinned and patted her shoulder. “Looks like the Demon’s just lost another one of his players.” And with that, he left and was lost in the shadows of the night once again.
He exited the house and saw the grey 1972 Chevrolet Chevelle parked in front of the porch. On the hood of the classic beauty was a woman with shoulder length blonde hair. She was dressed in jeans and a tight black tank top with a worn leather jacket over her shoulders that gave even the weakest person a badass look. But something about this girl was different. Her aura just screamed guilt and naivety. She raised her head slowly as she heard footsteps. “You lied to me,” she muttered.
“I did no such thing. You misunderstood me. Not my problem.”
She clenched her hand into a fist and slammed it down onto her hood. “Gordon, you b*stard! You lied to me!” She pointed to the house. “Is that what you do when you ‘just want to have a talk’ with someone?! I heard that girl screaming.”
“Jo, they’re fair game. They aren’t on our side. They’re traitors…each and every one of them…including this Carly chick…Scott…and even Sam, which by the way, I must thank you for helping me find him.”
Jo shook her head. “I didn’t help you so you could have a chance to beat him and carve him like a damn pumpkin! I thought you wanted to talk to these people, not torture them. If I knew that ahead of time, I wouldn’t have-”
Gordon walked over to Jo and stood in front of her, leaning his bloodstained hands on either side of her. “Wouldn’t have what? Wouldn’t have led Carly straight into my grasp? Wouldn’t have gone against your will and contacted the Roadhouse? You wouldn’t have asked Ash where you could find Sam because you needed to ‘see him’?” He smiled and shook his head. “Cuz it’s a little too late for any regrets Sweetcheeks.”
Jo brought her foot up and kicked Gordon in the chest, making him stumble backward. “You a*shole.”
“Oh come on Jo. You want revenge anyway…I can tell. You want revenge for what happened to your daddy.” Gordon crossed his arms over his chest as he stood a few feet from the car. “Granted, I understand where you’re coming from. Your father was a good man. So was Sam and Dean’s dad. I’m just sorry it had to end like that.”
Jo hopped off the Chevelle and stormed over to Gordon, wielding her own hunter’s knife. In fact, it was the knife her father gave her. The same one she had shown Dean, the same one with the initials on the blade, the same one that meant the world to her. “Don’t you dare talk about him. Don’t you even say his name,” she snarled as she placed the tip of the knife to his throat.
“Easy there tiger…I thought we were on the same team,” Gordon said as he slowly raised his hands, seeming to admit defeat.
Jo locked her eyes with Gordon’s. “Key word being were. It’s over Gordon. I’m calling the cops.”
Gordon gripped Jo’s wrist with one hand and her neck with the other. “Sorry. Can’t let you do that.” He squeezed her throat tighter, closing her airway. She fought against his hold until he slammed her head down onto the cool metal of the car.
Jo’s body suddenly fell limp as she drifted into unconsciousness and he let her fall from his hands. Gordon looked down at her and shook his head. “I’m doing all of mankind a favor and this is how I’m repaid?” He picked the fragile blonde up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He scanned the area around him, checking for any witnesses and began to carry Jo into the house.
A few hours later…
Jo awakened and found herself tied to a chair within a drafty, dark basement. She turned her face in effort to look around but a drop of a cold liquid landed onto her forehead and streamed down her cheek. She squinted her eyes and saw that the drop was coming from the leaking pipe above her. Great.
She struggled against her binds just as the door leading to her freedom opened slowly and the morning light from the outside hit her face. Jo watched as Gordon descended down the stairs, a sniper rifle in hand. “What are you planning on doing with that?” she asked, her voice shaking with fear.
Gordon gently wiped the drop of water from her cheek before he began to check the ropes that were restraining her. “Don’t worry. It’s not for you.”
“Then what’s it for?” Something told Jo she already knew the answer.
“I’ve got a hunt,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.
“Oh yeah? And what...or who exactly are you hunting?”
Gordon chuckled and headed back up the stairs. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Just sit tight.” He flashed Jo a crooked smile and shut the door closed behind him. He headed outside of the house and walked over to his dew-covered car. He popped open the trunk and took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air. In the corner of his eye he caught a glance of the trash bag he had placed Carly’s body inside of a few hours ago. Don’t worry Carly, I’m about to axe off another one of your fellow soldiers.
Gordon held up the rifle in his hand and checked the ammunition. He let an evil smirk creep onto his face as an empty shell fell to the ground, sending memories of his last kill into his mind. He threw the gun into the trunk of his car and shut the door closed. “Say bye bye Sammy Winchester.”
demon hunter - January 22, 2007 05:52 AM (GMT)
“You think dad was disappointed in you?”
“Was, is, always will be.” Sam had thought this many times, standing here, in the cold without his jacket, to finally say it out loud. I am a disappointment, he made it clear everyday.
He didn’t say that out loud, but he had thought it everyday, every minute, he saw in his father’s face. He heard it when his father let out a loud sigh, the look in his eyes…..they spoke volumes, he was the son who never did anything right. He didn’t want to hunt; he didn’t want to hustle some poor slob out of his hard earned money. But most of all he didn’t want to be anything like his father.
He wanted to go to school, to have friends, and debate issues with like-minded people, but that wasn’t the Winchester way.
“I remember that fight…..” Dean wished he could forget it, he wished he could forget the moment his father kicked his little brother out, and his brother had said goodbye forever.
Four years had passed, four years and no one called, four agonizing years, of fear, of despair, of wondering if he will ever come back. Dean often lied on his bed, awake, starring at his phone, with his finger on the send button. He would cheerfully say “Hey Sammy; how’s college?”
But, he never did, he knew Sam wanted nothing to do with him, he knew Sam would just hang-up or maybe he wouldn’t even pick-up the phone. His brother made his mind up, he chose school, an education, a career, and strangers over his family. His mind would always go to that point, he choice strangers over his family; and than Dean closed the phone.
He gripped the phone, his anger boiling inside of him, as it always did. His face was stoic, no one would ever know what kind of torment he went through every night, the fear he held inside of him that one day the police will call, there had been an accident, or your brother has been killed. The call never came but night after night he lied on his bed waiting for that call.
Sam smiled as he neared the post box, he lifted the lid and popped the letter inside, he took a deep breath in as he looked around the small town, the sun shone brightly and the air was hot and humid. From a distance he could see a car and his smile drifted away, he slipped his hands into his pocket, looking down, he knew he would eventually have to tell them. He just sent his confirmation, a full ride, if mom could see this; I know she would be proud; at least one of my parents would be proud of me.
“Hey geek-boy, get in I don’t have all day.” Dean called out to him. He walked to the car and got in.
The ride home had been quiet, he wanted to tell Dean he was going to school, he wasn’t leaving, he would never leave his family, and he loved them. Cherished every moment he had with them. He knew with their line of work, the next goodbye might be forever. It scared him to the core, he felt it every time they left for a hunt, bruised, beaten, bloody, and stitched-up. He knew what was out there, what was out there terrified him, what was out there could and would kill any of them. He was only eighteen years old; he was supposed to be getting ready for college. He was supposed to worry more about getting laid than what was under his bed.
Dean noticed the silence, he glanced over at his brother a few times, Sam said nothing, he had been quiet the whole ride back, he had something on his mind, what was it? He has been quiet the past few weeks, there definitely was something on his mind, he hoped it wouldn’t be big, he hoped there wouldn’t be another huge fight, but there would be, always was one. He hoped it would end soon, the fighting, the bickering. The occasional grabbing of the shirt collar, the show of macho bravado they both brought forth.
Sometimes he hated them, he loved them more, but sometimes he just wanted to kick both of their butts, to yell, scream, plead, and beg. Do whatever it took for them to stop fighting and just talk to one another…..to listen.
Sam walked through the door. His father was sitting on the couch eyes to the left, as Sam walked towards him he looked-up at his son. The look in his eyes it told Sam he once again was a disappointment, he failed, he knew his father knew.
“When where you going to tell me Sam?” His voice was quiet he had never used that tone. Sam’s stomach knotted-up.
“Tell you? Tell you what dad? Sam?” Dean could feel the fight beginning; he always knew when they would come. He felt it in every inch of his body. The hairs on the back of his neck stood-up, his stomach knotted-up, the small amount of sweat on his upper lip. He swallowed hard, anticipating Sam’s response, mapping out the fight, the insults and the accusations, he hoped it wouldn’t be a big one, he hoped it would end.
“Tell you about what?” Sam played dumb, maybe it was about something else, he would tell him over the phone, over the phone! How pathetic is that? Am I that afraid of my dad? Am I really that much of a coward?
“Don’t play dumb with me boy.” John bellowed, he wasn’t in the mood, he should have known, the signs where there, they where there for years. He should have known Sam would leave eventually, but he tried his best not to think of it, it hurt too much, and it scared him even more….he just wanted his son, his sons, by his side, it was safe, it was comforting, for them but mostly for himself.
“You know what I am talking about.” He slammed Sam’s college course calendar on the table.
Sam swallowed hard. “I was going to tell you today, when I got home.” He lowered his gaze not wanting to face either man, to see the disappointment and betrayal in their eyes.
John stood-up “You’re not going.” John’s words left no room for arguments, but Sam wasn’t done he was going and no one was going to stand in his way.
“I’m not going? Who the hell do you think you are? You get to decide my future, my life? You think I’m going to live in a hell-hole motel for the rest of my life.” The angry words came out of him like they had a life of their own. He had wanted to say it so many times but was too scared to speak the truth, to say to his father, to look him in the eyes and tell him he hated being here.
John froze; his son’s words stabbed through him, he stared into his son’s eyes wondering who this person was in front of him. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be with him, his father, his only living parent. Did his son hate him this much?
“Who the hell do I think I am?” John echoed his son’s burning words, moving closer “I am your father….” He roared, moving closer “I choose what is best for my children….that’s my job.”
“We are not children anymore, we are adults, we can choose our own lives. We don’t need you.” I need you dad, just not to make my decisions.
“You don’t need me, you don’t need me, who the hell do you think you are speaking to boy?” He doesn’t need me, I need him.
“Please guys, calm down, you don’t mean any of this.” Dean pleaded, he was begging, he would do whatever it took to stop this fight.
“I am not a boy, I am a man, an adult, but you just want to control me, if I leave I won’t be your puppet anymore.” You don’t want or need me around so why do you care?
“A man?” John snorted “Your no man, a man faces his problems he doesn’t run away. You’re still a boy, and your staying here, no arguments. You’re. Not. Going.”
“I’m going....” Sam said definitely.
“After everything I have done for you, you are just going to run off”
“What you have done for me? What have you done for me? Given me a home? A life? You’ve give me nothing.” He screamed as he catapulted the coffee table, Dean quickly moved to avoid it.
“You ungrateful little brat, I gave you nothing…” John charged towards Sam and slapped him hard, leaving a thin red mark from his wedding ring.
“I’ve given you everything…” Dean pulled John away, please stop.
Sam charged towards them the only thing between them was Dean, sandwiched between his dad and his little brother.
“Please stop….” He could feel the tears building-up in his eyes, they where going to kill each other if he didn’t stop this.
“There is nothing to be ungrateful for. You gave us nothing, we have nothing, all we have is run-down motel, and scraps of food not even the dogs would touch.”
“Stop it.” Dean screamed pulling the two men apart.
They all stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to make his move.
“Go to your room, boy.” John ordered, this was make or break, Sam was going to listen, whether he like it or not.
“No.” Sam’s single defiant word echoed through the small motel room. Dean could feel his heart pound mercilessly against his chest, he watched both men waiting for the storm to come.
John moved closer “I said go to your room….boy.” He moved closer, Dean’s heart stopped it was becoming difficult to breath.
Sam could feel his father’s hot breath on him, the anger boiling inside of his eyes, the disappointment….he didn’t want the useless son, he had the perfect one, what did he want with this failure.
“C’mon Sammy, go to your room, cool off.” Again Dean was begging, since when is he reduced to begging?
“No.” Sam could feel the hot tears building inside of his eyes, he couldn’t cry, it wasn’t the Winchester way to cry, like a little girl, to run away like a frightened child. It wasn’t the Winchester way to back-off.
John saw the determination in his son he wasn’t going to let-up anytime soon, he made his mind-up and so did John.
“Fine. If you want to leave, leave.” The two boys stood there in stupor, their father had given-in, he never gave-in.
A small smile escaped Sam’s lips, he was going….”But…” But…but what?
“If you leave, never come back. I mean it Samuel…” Samuel? He never calls me Samuel. “You go, you better stay gone.”
He won’t leave us, he won’t leave us, he can’t leave us…me. I love you.
“Dad, please no.” Dean’s words where lost on the two men as just stood there starring at each other.
Please don’t go Sammy, I need you, please stay....I love you.
He doesn’t mean that…does he? You don’t mean it dad, please take it back. Tell me you are proud of me, that you love me….I love you.
“You want me gone, I am gone.” Sam spat and turned around to go to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Dean finally let-out a breath he turned towards his father who was wiping his cheek hiding his shame, the pain.
Ten minutes later Sam stormed out of the motel room and out of their lives. John quickly moved behind him and slammed the door.
Sam and Dean starred at the door Dean walked towards it and put his hand on the doorknob and the other on the door with his forehead leaning lightly against it. Little did he know his baby brother was on the other side mirroring his big brother’s silent goodbye.
Every night John starred at the old picture of his youngest, it was crumpled and worn. His thumb lightly rubbed Sam’s face, it was begging to ware, he kissed it. It was a ritual, his silent good night to a son he would never see again. He turned his head to see Dean staring at his phone with his thumb hovering over the send button, he prayed every night Dean would press it, but he never did.
Sam climbed into his warm bed in his cramped dorm room and reached for the picture he stole from Dean before he left. The only thing that tied him to his family, a family he would never see again.
“Dad was proud of you….”
Tigress - January 22, 2007 11:42 PM (GMT)
What would have happened if Dean had styed out of the sewers and met Sam at Rebecca's like he promised?
Alternate Ending – Skin
“You know me Sammy…I just can’t wait.”
Dean slammed down the lid of his car then paused. He knew Sam would be pissed if he went into the sewers alone, and after Sam allowed himself to be arrested to give him time to escape, Dean decided to wait for his brother at Rebecca’s, just like he had said.
Sam knocked on Becky’s door and waited, praying that Dean did the smart thing for once in his life and waited for backup.
Becky opened the door and looked at Sam.
“You have a lot of explaining to do mister. Like why your brother told me this crazy story about monsters and then attacked me.”
“Can we not do this out here? Please let me come in and explain everything. Like starting off with how that wasn’t my brother who attacked you.”
Becky stood aside to let Sam in, wanting an explanation. As Sam passed her, she gave an evil smile.
Dean neared the house that Rebecca’s parents owned. He looked around carefully, making sire that there were no cops about to catch him. Luckily, they seemed to have moved off for the most part and he could sneak over a fence into the back garden. As he neared the house, he saw Sam sitting on the sofa, whilst Becky was getting a beer out of the fridge.
Smiling to himself, Dean moved to the back door into the kitchen and opened it, just as he saw Becky slam Sammy’s empty beer bottle across the back of his head, sending him spiralling into a world of darkness.
“Becky?” Dean asked, shock taking over his body completely and freezing it to the spot. Then his hunter/brother reflexes kicked in and he raised his gun, aiming at what he hoped was the shapeshifter. But he had been a fraction of a second too late.
‘Becky’ had ducked down behind the sofa. As Dean aimed at her, she bought up the bottle and placed the jagged edge on Sam’s throat. Now, Dean had to pause, because Sam and the sofa were now in his line of fire, and with Sam unconscious, Dean didn’t dare run the risk of him getting hurt. He reluctantly lowered his gun.
As Sam began to rouse from the darkness, he felt his arms pulled in front of him. His wrists were held together with ropes, and there was a presence hovering over him, supporting the weight of his arms.
As he opened his eyes, Sam looked up at Dean and for a moment, he thought his brother was there to rescue him. But when he flung his wrists don onto his lap without untying them, Sam knew this was the shifter in disguise.
“What are you gonna to do to me?” Sam asked to ‘Dean’s’ retreating back.
“I’m not going to do anything. Dean will though.”
“They’ll never catch him,” Sam said with an air of confidence.
“Who said anything about them catching him?”
Sam looked at the shifter with puzzlement as he took out a knife form the block and walked over to the store cupboard and opened the door. He lifted the real Dean to his feet and dragged him in so that Sam could see his brother for the first time.
Dean had his hands tied behind his back and a gag across his mouth, preventing him from saying anything or calling out for help. Sam couldn’t believe that Dean had been captured as well as him, and his heart fell when he realised that there was no rescue coming from his protector brother.
“It doesn’t matter though,” the shifter continued, holding the sharp knife at Dean’s throat. “Murder in the first…of his own brother. He’ll be hunted the rest of his life.”
At this, Dean tried struggling against his captor, but the shifter was too strong and simply forced him away to another room in the house.
“Where are you taking him? WHERE ARE YOU TAKING HIM?!” Sam shouted, but he received no reply except the struggling noises of Dean being pushed further away.
Sam took this moment to think up a plan for escape, but try as he might, nothing came to him. At least…nothing that could get both him and Dean out of there alive. And where was Becky? His thoughts went out to his friend.
“What did you do with Becky?!” Sam demanded as the shifter retuned alone.
“I told you Sam, you really don’t want to know. You worry about Dean and Becky, when you should be worrying about yourself.”
“I must say, I will be sorry to loose this skin. Your brother’s got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do.”
Sam was now lying on his back with his hands still tied across his chest. His feet were also bound, but if he lifted his head he could see his brother’s shoes under the table where Dean sat, tied to the chair by the bookcase.
The shifter-Dean poured himself a whiskey and walked around the pool table, avoiding standing on his prisoner. He raised his glass and said “Cheers”, lifting it to both Sam and Dean. The look of fury in Dean’s eyes as the shifter constantly kept himself between the brothers could have made the sun think twice about rising in the morning.
The shifter just smiled at him and turned to his bag of goodies. He took out the kitchen knife from earlier, preferring fatal stab wounds to the rope for hanging or strangulation. He looked down at Sam and grinned, plunging the knife into the rim of the pool table then turning back to his bag.
Sam saw this as possibly his only hope of freeing himself and his brother. He looked around quickly to see if there was anything he could use. When he realised there was nothing, he knew what he had to do.
Taking a deep breath, Sam lifted his legs and kicked ‘Dean’ in the left hip, sending him crashing to the floor away from the table. Sam got himself up and used the blade to cut his hands free. Removing the blade and quickly cutting the ropes that bound his feet, Sam barely had time to stand up as the shapeshifter advanced on him. They began to fight, Sam using the knife to try and slash at ‘Dean’s’ face. But he deflected the move and managed to toss him over, dislodging the taller man’s grip on the blade.
As Sam and the impersonator fought, all Dean could do was sit there and watch. His feet remained bound to the legs of the chair and his hands tied uselessly behind his back. He wished that he could just stick out his leg and trip the shifter up, even if only for a second, so that Sam could get an advantage.
But unfortunately as the fight neared his position, Sam took a hard elbow to his head and a knee to his ribs. The shifter then delivered a powerful blow to Sam’s stomach, pushing him back into the shelves and collapsing onto the floor. The wood and books fell down on top of him and he collapsed onto the floor, winded and struggling for energy as his body began to fail him.
Now was Dean’s chance. The shapeshifter was reaching for a cue stick. If Dean could grab him and hold him just for a second…
‘Dean’ saw this move coming and manipulated his body so that it bent, just out of Dean’s reach which infuriated him to no end. He picked up the stick and turned to Sam, who was using the table to pull himself up to his feet.
“Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass.”
Dean mumbled something incoherent at that remark, but he could do nothing to help as the fake ‘Dean’ attacked his brother with the pool stick. Luckily, Sam still had his reflexes, and he managed to spin along the table, away from the weapon and the ‘man’ wielding it.
Sam used his long legs to get a good kick into the fake Dean’s stomach, but that did little to keep him away. He kept coming and soon they were locked in an arm battle. Sam had managed to position himself between his brother and their captor, but this was short-lived, as the shifter charged Sam and knocked him over the sofa and onto the coffee table, causing that to give way under the weight of both men.
With two punches to the face, Sam was out of strength to keep fighting. He felt the hands of the shifter closing around his neck, cutting off his air supply. He felt them squeeze his airway closed. Felt the burning begin in his chest from the lack of oxygen. Sam thought this was it. He knew he was about to pass out from the way his oxygen-starved lungs heaved in his chest.
But then the pressure was gone. The shifter had let go and was no longer sitting on top of him. Instead, he was standing at Sam’s feet, looking over his victim. He turned to Dean and Sam could do nothing but lie there.
“You see boys, I need to get out of town…tonight. Start afresh. But to do that, I don’t need the cops looking for a killer. So you Dean have provided me with a way out of this.”
The shifter moved toward Dean and got right in his face.
“Take one condolence from all this Dean. At least you’ll be reunited with your mother very soon. And if you’re lucky, Sam might even be there to…unless you end up down there.”
Raising himself up to his full height, the shifter turned on Sam who was lying prone on the floor, barely conscious. He approached him with the knife in hand.
Sam knew what was coming but couldn’t fight against it…his body was just to badly damaged. He tried to find Dean, wanting his brother…his true brother to be his final sight. But unfortunately the shifter-Dean wasn’t that forgiving. He straddled Sam, holding him down and preventing him from backing away.
“You’re going to look at me boy. I’m your brother.”
“Go to hell” Sam croaked out.
‘Dean’ smiled sadistically. “You first.”
He drew the knife across Sam’s neck, deep enough to catch all the vital veins and arteries. Then he dropped the knife and held Sam’s head so that he could only look up into the eyes of his killer as his precious blood left his body. Unfortunately, the eyes of his killer were an all-to-familiar yet strangely unknown hazel.
From his position on the chair, Dean could only watch as a pool of blood quickly surrounded Sam’s neck and head. He saw Sam go limp and knew that Sam’s, and his lives were over.
He screamed behind his gag as tears spilled from his eyes and down his cheeks. He called his brother’s name, but got no response. Though he tried to get away, to have revenge on his brother’s killer, it was no use.
The shapeshifter got up off of Sam’s body and turned to Dean, holding out his hands that had become covered in blood. Dean cried but looked up as the shifter drew near.
He wiped his hands across Dean’s jacket, almost making the elder Winchester hurl at the move. They locked eyes and Dean saw no remorse or guilt in the shifter’s eyes. They were blank, void of emotion, dead.
Dean’s world went white, then dark as his double punched him hard across his face.
Rebecca was found three months later, after a team of engineers doing maintenance work discovered the shapeshifter’s lair. She was dead, having died of starvation and her body had begun to decompose, but not before the rats had had their fill.
The police finally caught up with Dean Winchester, but not before he had apparently committed suicide by slashing his wrists in a motel on the outskirts of town.
The bodies of Sam and Dean Winchester were claimed by a family friend, Pastor Jim, and taken back to Lawrence, Kansas, to be buried beside their mother, brothers together.
Who would have ever thought that Dean actually doing what he promised could get him and his brother killed?
Sam-Girl - January 23, 2007 08:01 PM (GMT)
Season 2 spoilers for Everybody Loves A Clown
Additional Scene of Everybody Loves A Clown
Dean had a way of handling his pain with John’s death. He smashes the back of the Impala with a crowbar. He kept hitting and hitting it till his hands were red. He let go of it and his pain was little let go.
Sam went back inside to handle his pain alone without Dean or Bobby. His father was dead and he felt guilty that he never had a good relationship with him. He knew it was little too late to patch things up with him.
Dean watched what he have done and started working to put his life back together. He knew fixing the Impala would help just a little. He started to pull the dent of the car from what done.
~ 2 weeks later ~
Sam watched his brother working on his car and knew that was only thing he cared about at the moment. The car was special to him. A possessed demon crashed his car by running into it with eighteen-wheeler. The morning he woke up and saw outside. Dean was finished with the car.
Dean was proud of what he has done. He couldn’t smile. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled but he didn’t care. The Impala is back in black. She was shiny with wax, the color never looked so well and the seats never look so awesome. His baby was back with him. He was proud of her.
Sam walked outside to see how Dean was doing. “Hey Dean.” Dean saw Sam standing there. He was cleaning the rims. “Hey Sam.” He put the towel over his shoulder and looked at him.
“The car is looking good.” Sam smiles to wonder if Dean was all right. “Yeah, she is. The only thing to do is take her for a spin. “ Dean gets up and dusts his jeans off. “Yeah.” Sam looks at the car.
Dean grabs the keys from the table. “Well, she is ready to go.” He smiles when he is holding the keys. “I am going to take a shower.” He rubs his eyes. He goes inside to take a shower.
Sam just stands there while looking the car. He remember the last time the car was that bright before his father told him you need to let go of him. He remembers Chicago and the Daeva. He sure remembers the demon-possessed trucker crashing into the Impala. Dean was really angry with that when he saw the car.
Dean comes out with clean clothes on and a jacket on. “Bobby found us a hunt. Two heads are chopped off and cows have been mutilated.
Sam smiles at Dean. “So you think there is a hunt.” Dean shakes his head yes. “Yeah, maybe some kind satanic cult or something likes that.” He gets in the car and starts the car up. “Ah. That is my baby.” He chuckles.
Sam gets in the car and he looks at Dean. “What?” Dean questions Sam. “Nothing.” Dean looks back in front of him. He turns up the volume of the radio and is playing ACDC – Back In Black He drives off really fast and dust covering the tire marks of the Impala.
hermitme - January 25, 2007 04:54 PM (GMT)
Asylum Tag Season 1
Because Asylum is the Hamlet of Supernatural and everyone should get a shot at it, (no pun intended)
Dean walked into the motel room, dropped his bag onto the bed closest to the door and headed for the bathroom, shutting out conversations, and angry brother while shutting in his own anger, feelings of betrayal and pain, both physical and mental. Gingerly taking off his t-shirt he examined the bruises on his chest, salt bits still embedded in some areas, small craters of sting surrounded by purplish bruises and dried blood.
Dean remembered the look on Sam’s face just before his younger brother pulled the trigger, he remembered the explosion of pain, the hard landing, then a too brief period of relief before consciousness reclaimed him, heart pounding rapidly, a feeling of panic bringing nausea and fear. Sam’s face above him was livid, the kind of anger that didn’t show in frowns and snarls, but in cold rage. Yup, things had gone from bad to worse and Dean had been on the wrong end of the madness.
The damage to his chest didn’t compare to the throat closing pain of Sam’s words though. Dean recalled the expressions spoken in blind rage, thoughts his brother always felt but never gave voice to, till now, till the insanity of a delusional doctor’s touch brought them forth.
Dean knew Sam didn’t really like him, but didn’t realize the extent of the hatred till Sam pulled the trigger. But it really wasn’t him, thought Dean, the ache in his chest reminding him of the pain he saw in his brother’s eyes as he watched Sam struggle with the anger in himself. He had noted the bright shine in his younger sibling’s eyes, and the expressions on Sam’s face as he fought for control, before the blind rage took over again. It wasn’t really him. And Dean knew this was true, because Dean loved his brother and because Dean could forgive his brother, just like he had so many times in the past, just like Sam had forgiven him so many times in the past.
Taking out the first-aid kit, the older Winchester began ministering his bruises, pulling out the salt, tending to the physical pain while slowly burying the mental ones. By the time he had finished, his mind was blank, his thoughts were on tomorrow and the anger and frustration were buried deep, along with the rest of the resentment and pain from the past 22 years, because this is what made Dean able to get up every day, to face the horrors that were his life and to be able to function. No need for Oprah moments, or Dr. Phil therapy. Dean Winchester’s ways and means of dealing with life worked just fine.
By the time he was out of the shower, Dean was calm. Walking out of the bathroom, he gave his brother a shallow smirk, “bathroom’s yours”, he said, his voice soft and easy. By the time Sam took his shower and came out of the bathroom, Dean was asleep. Another day survived in the life of the Winchesters.
Sam walked behind his brother into the motel room, watched as Dean shut him off completely without a word. The sound of the bathroom door closing might as well have been a slap. Throat tightening, he could feel the remorse working his way around his mind, slamming into the walls of his memory as the feel of the trigger replayed over and over.
The younger Winchester remembered the arrogant feeling as he watched his brother thrown back by the force of the rock salt. When he looked down at Dean’s prone form he felt powerful, haughty and so very mad. He remembered trading the shotgun for the pistol Dean had given him, the vacant look in his brother’s eyes when he pulled the trigger of the empty gun, his own surprise and wrath that the weapon was unloaded, and bitter rage as he kept pulling the trigger again and again.
A chocked cry escaped him as his actions came flooding back to him, and he quickly stifled it, glancing quickly at the bathroom door, relieved when he heard the shower running and realized that Dean hadn’t heard him.
Staring unseeingly at the brown, dirty carpet, Sam’s memories were unforgiving. The words he recalled uttering to his brother quickened his heart and brought shame to his cheeks. Yeah, those feelings had been there, for a couple of months now. The feeling of desperation at not being able to find their dad, of ire at the way Dean would just do what their father wanted, without question, without even thinking there could be another way, a different alternative. Couldn’t his brother even try to have a mind of his own? Did he really have to be so damn robotic when it came to their dad? Sam felt his anger brewing again. Why couldn’t his brother see that they weren’t soldiers, they were two young guys who had a right to live and choose their own path.
Sighing in disappointment, Sam realized that Dean wouldn’t change. He didn’t know why his brother was the way he was, but he should. It must be somewhere in the past, if he bothered to explore it. However, Sam didn’t want to explore it, he wanted it gone, and he almost had that in Stanford, with Jessica. A new life, a new identity, yeah still Sam Winchester, but not Sam Winchester the hunter. He had managed to put his family and life behind him, thinking they would stay behind him. Well, that didn’t work so well now did it?
The opening of the bathroom door brought him to his feet, a small crease marring his brow as he waited to see what Dean would do. But Dean did nothing, just gave him that empty grin, and offered the bathroom.
Sam entered the small room, still warm and steamy from Dean’s shower. He noted the bloody bandages, swallowed his guilt and got ready for his own washing.
The warm water soothed his muscles, and calmed his mind for a bit. He knew Dean wouldn’t talk about it, and by tomorrow morning he’d act like nothing happened. His brother would bury this like he buried the hundreds of other hurts during his life. Wounds brought on by both Sam and John. And Sam and his father had let him, because that was Dean, he took the injuries, buried them and never spoke of them, and because John and Sam had felt the guilt, they turned their heads from the look in Dean’s eyes and allowed the oldest child to swallow the bitter pill.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Sam got out of the shower, dried himself and walked out of the bathroom with every intention of talking this out, of making amends, of not allowing Dean to bury this pain. But Dean was asleep when he stepped back into the bedroom.
Shaking his head Sam headed for his own bed. They would talk about it tomorrow, Sam would make sure of that. He would tie Dean down if he had to, but they would talk. Dean wasn’t going to carry this with him, and neither was Sam. With that resolve made Sam slept.
The ringing of the phone the next morning and Dad’s conversation wiped Sam’s intentions away. A new day of anger and frustration, another opportunity to converse gone, and another injury left buried. Such was the life of a Winchester.
deathsingsasong - January 27, 2007 05:41 AM (GMT)
SPOILERS FOR: Nightmare, Simon Said, In My Time of Dying (sort of) and Hunted.
WARNING: This is extremely AU. And, well, I’ve never written a death fiction before, but, this is one. Just letting you know, break out the tissues.
Sam can’t believe it. The whole time, it has been Max killing, Max making him see all these death visions. He can’t believe he has stumbled across another psychic. He needs to talk to him, convince him that what he’s doing won’t change anything. It won’t help him. He needs to make him see.
Sam can’t believe it. When Dean reaches over an pulls out a handgun. A handgun, to kill Max, to kill a human being. Max can change, Sam is sure. He just needs to make the young man understand.
Sam can’t believe it. Dean, shot to the head, on the floor, gone. No. No. The heavy cabinet on the door moves, releasing him. He races up the stairs. He needs to show Max that this won’t solve anything.
Dean couldn’t believe it. Sammy actually got through to that deranged psychopath, Max. Hell, he thought the little bastard was gonna shoot him with his own gun, then Sammy burst in, and with that soothing voice Sam uses so often, he convinced Max to put the gun down, to let his stepmother go, to let the pain go. He made him comprehend.
Sam can’t believe it. The visions, they show another psychic, like him and Max. Another person with abilities, using them to kill. Max, he’d been able to stop him, save him from himself. They hadn’t spoken for a while though. Max is doing well, he got enough money for college, even is getting married. But he has killed, his own uncle, his own father.
Sam can’t believe it. Andy, the one who could “Obi-Wan” you if he feels like it, isn’t killing anyone. For the first time, Sam feels a shred of hope, there’s a spark of a chance that maybe, he won’t become a killer too.
Sam can’t believe it. Andy shoots Anson, he kills him. Granted, Dean is on the ledge side, his gun pressed to his own neck, finger tightening on the trigger. True, Tracy is edging ever closer to plummeting to her death. Still, Andy, Sam’s newfound hope, has proved to be just like the others, a killer.
Dean couldn’t believe it. Sam’s words, they came true. They’re being pushed, pushed to hurt, to kill. Pushed to go “Dark side”. He remembered the promise he made to his Dad. No, Sam wouldn’t get to that point. Not Sam. Sammy would not, could not kill.
Sam can’t believe it. Another psychic, Ava, sweet, caring Ava. A girl who risks everything to save another human life. She kills. She kills her fiancé. She’s been pushed, pushed to the breaking point. The list just keeps getting longer, Max, Anson, Andy, Scott (well, almost), Ava. How long would Sam last, before he slips and falls into darkness? He clings on, fighting, praying that he’ll be able to change his destiny. His only reassurance is Max. Max has changed. He has fought the darkness, and has come out on top. Maybe Sam could battle fate too.
Sam can’t believe it. Breaking News in some town in Massachusetts, where Max lives, lived. “Local man, Max Miller, murders wife and unborn child before committing suicide. It seems that the man had recently been attending therapy and many of his friends have said that Miller had been rambling about a yellow-eyed man telling him to do horrible things before the incident occurred.” No. This can’t be. Max is gone, pushed, like the others. Pushed like he will be one day. Sam can’t battle fate anymore; it’s over.
Dean can’t believe it. Walking into the motel room that morning, having just gone out to get some coffee for him and Sammy. He knows something’s wrong the instant he steps through the door. Then he sees him. Sees his little brother on the floor, blood trickling from a gunshot wound to the head. A gun in his little brother’s hands. There’s a envelope next to Sam. Addressed to him. Dean doesn’t read its contents, he already knows what it says. He takes the gun from Sammy’s hand, cringing at the cold flesh of his brother, once so warm, so alive. He hears sirens in the distance, someone must have reported the gunshot. He looks at the bedside alarm clock, 10:40 AM. He opens the chamber of the gun, and silently thanks Sammy for knowing to load the weapon with two bullets. One for himself, and one for older brother.
At 10:41 AM, another frantic 911 call is made by a customer at a small motel, reporting a second gunshot in the nearby room.
grkgrl88 - February 5, 2007 09:49 PM (GMT)
Just a reminder that voting closes Wednesday.
grkgrl88 - February 7, 2007 09:47 PM (GMT)
Voting is now closed. Winners will be up soon.