gavemea_45: (brothers: watching dean)
(After this.)

"Lilith was the final seal. I killed her, and I set Lucifer free."
"Yeah. You chose a demon over your own brother—and look what happened."
"I would give anything—anything—to take it all back."
"I know you would, Sammy. And I know how sorry you are. But I just don't know if I can trust you."
"Maybe it's best we just go our separate ways."
"I think you're right."


"You know who I am."
"...Lucifer."
"Thanks to you, I walk the earth. Now, I want to give you a gift."
"Go back to hell. I don't want anything from you."
"That's not how this works. You're the one, Sam. You're my vessel."
"No. No. That'll never happen."
"I'm sorry, but it will. I will find you. And when I do, you will let me in. I'm sure of it."




Sam stands frozen, staring at the empty place where Lucifer's apparition had vanished for what feels like eternity. When the paralysis finally breaks, he moves fast, diving for his phone.

He paces the floor as it rings, unable to stand still - then yanks the phone away from his ear as Dean's voice snarls,

"Damn it, Cas, I need to sleep!"

"Dean, it's me," Sam says, quietly. "Not Cas."

"Sam?" Half a beat. "You got any friggin' clue what time it is?"

"Um, it's--" He looks around for a clock.

"Quarter past four," Dean supplies. He sighs. "So why are you calling?"

Sam's hand tightens on the phone.

"I'm-- it's important."

Succinctly, Sam explains what happened, all of it. When he's finished, there's a short silence.

"So you're his vessel? Lucifer's wearin' you to the prom?"

"That's what he said," Sam tells him. He's not aware of the bleakness in his eyes, the faint hope in his voice.

"Just when you said you were out, too. Guess you're gonna get sucked right back in, huh, Sammy?"

Disbelief paints his words. "That's it? That's all you've got to say?"

"I guess I'm a little numb to earth-shattering revelations at this point," Dean informs him.

Sam scrubs his free hand over his face. "So what are we gonna do about it?"

"What, you're just gonna walk back in and we're gonna be the dynamic duo again?"

He feels the impact of Dean's words as though he's just taken a hard right to the jaw.

"Dean, it doesn't have to be like--"

"Look, Sam, it doesn't matter what we do. We're the, uh, the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know what, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways. Stay separate. You hearin' me? Stay away."

"No, Dean-- don't, listen to me, don't do this, we can--"

"Bye, Sam."

The silence when the call disconnects is somehow worse than anything he's ever heard. Then again, it's nothing more than he deserves.


Three days later, his phone rings. Dean gets right to the point, giving him a location and a time to meet.

His brother's already waiting at the bridge when Sam arrives.

"Here." Dean pulls out Ruby's knife as Sam approaches, and Sam can feel his own jaw drop and his eyes widen as his brother holds it out to him, handle first.

"If you're serious and you want back in...you should hang on to this. I'm sure you're rusty."

Sam takes it. It's easier to look at the blade than to meet Dean's eyes.

"Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm...whatever I need to be, I guess," Dean says. "Point is, I was wrong."

He does look up, at that, searching Dean's face. "What made you change your mind?"

"Long story." Dean sighs. "Maybe we are each other's weakness, I don't know. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other. They're sure gonna try. But the thing is -- we're all we've got. We keep each other human."

Sam swallows hard. "Thank you. Really, Dean. Thanks. I -- I won't let you down."

His brother nods. "I know you won't."
gavemea_45: (brothers - mulder and scully)
THE ROAD SO FAR


November 2, 1983
Lawrence, Kansas

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can!"

22 years later....
"Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."
"I swore I was done hunting, Dean. For good."
"Sam, I can't do this alone."



"This was Dad's book. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. Saving people, hunting things - the family business."

"We got work to do."



"We've got to face it, Dean. There's something wrong with me."
"There's always an answer, Sam. You just gotta--we just gotta keep moving till we find it."
"We could ask someone. What about at that bar?"

"It's good to see you boys. It's been a long time."
"Dad? -- look out!"



"Is there anybody here with particular interest or expertise in dealing with prehistoric predators of, oh, creatures somewhat larger, meaner, and tougher than a twentieth-century white rhino? Say, in a heavily populated, not-especially-mobile, modern urban setting?"
"We're pretty good at going after shit that can eat us for breakfast. That count?"

"I shouldn't be too long. It's only a possessed catfish."
"Yeah, and a love spell. Eat perfume, Sasquatch."


I see a bad moon rising
I see trouble on the way
Don't go out tonight
'Cause it's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise...


"You out here to prove somethin', college boy?"
"Just how long are you planning to keep this up, Dean?"



"You killed your friend. To open a gate to hell."

"Your dad-- John was like family once."
"Who the hell are you?"



"Might want to be careful going through doors like that, dude. You never know if something cute and fluffy's gonna be on the other side."

"Now, now, Samuel. So messy."



"What about Coyote?"
"She tried to feed us to a Nahual in Vegas, remember?"


Look out now, here she comes -
she's the devil with a blue dress on


"What the fuck did you do--"

"You're not getting Sammy. You're not getting my brother!"



"I'm a freak, and everyone around me dies."

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world



"Seriously, man, do you even have the slightest clue where we are?"
"Yeah, but I'm guessing you don't."

"Had you going, though. Didn't I? I'm the undisputed heavyweight champ."
"You just killed them. All of them! Ava, what happened to you?
"You have no idea - the switches that just flip in your brain--"
"Sam! Sam, look out! SAM!"



Standin' at the crossroad
I tried to flag a ride
Didn't nobody seem to know me
everybody pass me by
Mmm, the sun goin' down, boy
dark gon' catch me here


--from the gates of hell, o Lord, deliver my soul--


the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
the ceremony of innocence is drowned...



"Tell me the truth, Dean! How long do you get?"
"One year. I got one year."

"The name's Ruby. I want to help you, Sam. That's what I'm here for. To help you."
"I can help you save your brother."



"The offer still stands, Sam. I hope you think long and hard about what's important to you."

(star light, star bright)


"Tell you what, Verity. When I'm ready to 'discuss' it, I'll come find you. How's that?"
"Pick a crossroads, any crossroads, and give me a call, Sam. I'll look forward to it."

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?"



"I need you to help me open a gate to hell."

carry on my wayward son
there'll be peace when you are done
lay your weary head to rest
don't you cry no more



"Anna? We're not going to hurt you. We're here to help."

"Why, Dean?"
"Because, Sam, they gave him a choice. Kill me, or kill you."



"We can't afford for me to do the right thing."
"Try selling me some shit that's actually true, for once. It'd make a nice change."
"If you're not going to believe me, Dean, what's the point of trying?"

"It's not as simple as 'turning back,' Michael, it's really not. Someone has to stop Lilith."
"Remember what you used to know about God and his angels, Sam. And think."
"Wait. You mean you want me to pray to you?"



"Let me out of here, Dean!"
"Not a chance, Sammy. You're gonna stay here until you dry out."
"You can't do this! Killing Lilith is what matters, don't you get that?"
"Oh, Lilith's gonna die. Bobby and I will kill her. But not with you."

"Dean, it's not what you think."
"Look what she did to you!"
"Come with us, Dean. We'll do this together."
"That sounds great. As long as it's you and me. Not Ruby."
"Dean, I can't. I need her to help me kill Lilith."



"Castiel, what --"
"You don't understand, Dean. Lilith is the final seal. She dies, and the end begins."
"Get me to Sam, Cas. We can stop this before it's too late."
"If I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed."
"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it."


--And I saw a star fallen from heaven unto the earth--
(How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!)
--And unto him was given the key of the bottomless pit--
(thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars)
--And he opened the bottomless pit...
gavemea_45: (I'm not gonna forget)
He wakes up before Dean the next morning.

Sam lies there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what was said... and what wasn't said. It's the latter that prompts him to get moving.







Twenty minutes later, he shoves the motel room door open with his elbow, not making any effort to be quiet about it.

"Time to get up!"
gavemea_45: (looking down in darkness)
He stares at the door for a long time after Ruby leaves.

"The whole world's about to be engulfed in hellfire."

"Thirty-four seals, Sam. That's over halfway. The angels are losing this war."


She's wrong. She has to be wrong. Maybe the angels have turned out to be more like assholes than good guys -- just ask Anna -- but it's not like what he can do would make the difference.

Right?

"It's the only way. If you'd just admit to yourself that you like it--"



Sam curses under his breath and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.




He can't stop thinking about it. Even when he's supposed to be focusing on the job, it's still there in the back of his mind, haunting him. Taunting him, until he bursts out,

"What if we could win?"

Dean stares at him in disbelief. "You wanna run that by me again?"

"If there was a way that we could-- I don't know, if we could just... stop it," Sam tries to explain, trying not to wince while his brother watches. "Just put an end to it all somehow."

"There something you're not telling me, Sammy?"

"No. No," he says again, fiercely, meaning it.

He's done with it. He'd told Dean, he'd told Ruby, he'd meant it, and he's going to stick to it. Even though he's gotten used to the psychic abilities, the whole blood part -- that's wrong. It has to be; it feels wrong. He's not going back to it. Not again.

"Lucifer rises, the apocalypse starts. People are gonna die, Sam. Oceans of people."



He can't. He can't.




After it's all over, Sam stands awkwardly by while Dean tries to reassure Jay.

"You know Charlie was never gonna give up what he was doing. You did the right thing."

Jay pierces them both with a scornful look.

"You sure about that? Charlie -- he was like my brother. And now he's dead, because I did the 'right thing.'"

Sam barely hears the rest of it over the sudden roaring in his ears. It's a couple of seconds after the old magician turns his back on them and walks away before he realizes Dean's talking to him.

"-- I'm gonna take a walk," Sam interrupts, and heads for the nearest exit, pulling out his phone as soon as he's out of sight.




He ducks into Ruby's car as soon as she pulls up.

"Okay," he says, curtly. "I'm in."

"What changed your mind?"

Sam looks away from her, out the window.

"I don't want to still be doing this when I'm an old man," he says.

We can't afford for me to do the right thing.
gavemea_45: (brothers - nothing's wrong)


Ruby's gone off to recover from her ordeal. He'd asked her to call later; maybe she will, maybe she won't. If she doesn't, he will-- eventually.

Castiel and Uriel are gone. Sam can't say he thinks that's much of a loss.

Anna's gone too, though, and that feels like it may be more of one.

Sam stares out the window at the road ahead of them, then casts a sideways look at Dean, trying to get a feel for how he's doing.

gavemea_45: (really not kidding)

He hates stitching himself up. He hates it even more when it's after a clusterfuck like this. If they hadn't thrown themselves through the window, the way things were going, that goddamn Alastair would have smashed them like bugs.

And Dean had recognized him.

One thing at a time.

Sam hisses a curse under his breath as he shoves the needle through his flesh, and grimly ties off the next knot.

gavemea_45: (sam in shades of gray)
After Uriel vanishes, Sam angrily shoves the rest of his stuff into his duffel bag, trying to ignore the way the angel's vicious words still ring in his ears.

"You so brazenly use the power he gave you."

"You’ve been warned twice now. One word, and I will turn you to dust."

"As for your brother - ask Dean what he remembers from hell."



"Oh, fuck this," Sam mutters, dumps his duffel on the end of the bed, and slams through the bathroom door and into Milliways.



One look at the crowd in the bar is enough to convince him that solitude's the better option. Sam shrugs his jacket closer around him, shoves his hands in his pockets, and heads out the other door in the direction of the lake. There's a path that looks to wind its way into the trees along the shore; he takes that, kicking aimlessly at ground to stir up the fallen leaves in front of him as he walks, brooding over Uriel's words.

"He’s got a point, you know."

Sam's head jerks up at the familiar voice. For a second or two he can't manage a sound; all he can do is stare at Jake Talley, who’s leaning against an oak tree at the edge of the trail ahead of him, idly examining the blade of the knife that he's holding in his hand.

Jake raises his eyebrows. "Cat got your tongue, Winchester?"

Sam's jaw sets, and he meets Jake's eyes with a level stare. "Maybe I just don't have anything to say to you."

"Fair enough, I guess," Jake notes. "After all, I did kill you. 'Course, you turned right around and killed me back, so..."

"You were helping Azazel," Sam snaps at him. "You were gonna shoot Ellen, and oh yeah, you opened the gate, remember?"

Jake sneers at him.

"Look who's talking. How long you been running around with a demon girlfriend, huh? Drinking demon blood? Man, that's just nasty."

"Shut up."

"Why? Can't stand to hear the truth? You been lyin' to yourself, Sam. Guess that's just one more thing we got in common--"

"I said, shut up."

Jake shakes his head, sadly.

"Comes down to it, I think I got the better deal."

Sam's expression tightens further at that.

"Listen. I know how it looks, okay? But I can do this. I've got to do this. I'm making something good out of what that bastard did to us. Someone's got to."

"Whatever, man. You keep telling yourself that." He shoves the knife into the sheath he's got strapped to his thigh and straightens, pushing away from the tree. "Hope it works out for you."

Sam struggles with himself as Jake starts away, walking further down the trail toward the woods. After a short, bitter internal fight, he sighs and calls after him,

"Wait. I don't know how long ago you got here, but there's -- you should probably know that --"

Jake flashes a quick grin over his shoulder at him.

"No problem there, Sam. I was never here in the first place."

"What the--"

Between one step and the next, Jake vanishes. Sam dashes forward, scanning the ground for any sign of his passing; the leaves are undisturbed, without even a single footprint.

There's no trace of Jake Talley.

Or, for that matter, of anyone else at all.
gavemea_45: (looking down in darkness)
The gate's sealed, and there's not a single crossroads demon that'll deal with him. He's tried.

"How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what."


It looks like the goddamn Trickster was right after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


The biggest difference between this time and last time is his lack of hope. Sam goes through the motions, driving from place to place alone the way they'd done together, doing his best to keep on. He owes Dean that much, at least.

The problem is that when it comes to saving people, hunting things-- well, he's already proven to be a failure at the first, and the second was always a family business.


* * * * * * * * * * * * *


He's drunk when he stumbles back to the motel room. Like he'd told Andrew once, it doesn't help, but it dulls the pain a little, at least for a while.

He wonders briefly where Andrew is now, if he's okay, if he'd done what Sam had asked him to and told Mac that Sam wasn't coming back. Wonders how she'd taken it; wonders if she's okay.

She will be, though. It's better this way, he tells himself. She's better off without him. Just like Jessica would have been. Anyone would be.

When he finally manages to unlock the door and push his way into the room, he's too slow to react before the two waiting demons grab him. One of them, a woman, takes the knife he's carrying.

"Thanks for keeping this warm for me, Sam."

"... Ruby."

"It's nice to be back," she tells him, as he tries and fails to break free of the man's grip. "Where I was, it was nasty - even for hell. Guess I really pissed Lilith off." She steps closer, turning the knife in her hand so that it catches the light.

"Imagine my relief when she gave me one last chance. And all I had to do... was find you, and kill you."

It's all Sam can do not to laugh. Is he supposed to care? Death would be a goddamn relief.

At least if I end up in hell, I'll see Dean--

"Fine," he taunts her. "Go ahead! Do it."

The knife flashes, and Sam braces himself for the familiar white-hot shock of pain-- and then stares in an entirely different sort of shock as she buries it into the other demon instead.

"Grab your keys," Ruby snaps. "We've got to go. Now!"

Dazed and lost in stunned confusion, he nevertheless does what she says.

The motel door shuts behind them.
gavemea_45: (dreamless sleep)
He wakes up before the alarm clock. It doesn't matter.

It's just another day.

Sam puts one hand behind his head, under the pillow, and lies still, staring at the ceiling.
gavemea_45: (impala)
[From here.]

It's still cool this early in the morning, here in Wyoming in late spring. The eastern sky is only beginning to lighten with the brightness of false dawn, but it's enough to see the dark shape of the Impala a few yards away, parked beside the road.
gavemea_45: (intense focus)
[After this.]

Sam doesn't realize everything that happens in the moment when the Trickster's fingers meet. He can't feel it when space and time both stretch like a rubber band between Milliways and the world he knows for one impossible instant, sending odd ripples both forward and backward along his time stream before something snaps and everything falls into place as the seconds begin to tick forward evenly again in both locations.

All he hears is a familiar sound.




-click-

"--gotta get back in time--"




His eyes fly open and he sits straight up in bed as Dean looks at him in surprise.

"You gonna sleep all day?"

Sam stares at him for only a second before bolting across the room to envelop his brother in a hug.

Startled, Dean nevertheless hugs him back. "Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?"

Sam swallows.

"Enough."




He doesn't even come close to relaxing until they leave Broward, Florida, and the sign recedes in the mirror behind them.
gavemea_45: (looking down in darkness)
Some people mark the passing of time by the calendar.

Sam keeps track by how long it's been since that fateful Wednesday when Dean died and time kept going.

"This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die every day, forever?"

"You son-of-a-bitch."

"How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what."


It's been six months since the Trickster taunted him and disappeared, and Sam's still not giving up. Not now; not ever.

He wears Dean's amulet around his neck, drives the Impala from one place to another, and goes on doing the job to the absolute best of his ability. He draws on every bit of experience he's got from how Dean and Dad had raised and taught him, as well as everything he'd ever noticed about how John Winchester had pursued the yellow-eyed demon while still doing a hunter's work from day to day.

It turns out he's better at it than he ever thought he really could be.

"What, you expect me to go on living and just let you die in my place?"

"Yeah, Sam. Because you and I both know you're the one that can."



* * * * * * *


He tries out Sameth's knife on a demon in Death Valley. While it definitely does something, it doesn't seem to work like either Ruby's knife or the Colt had. Maybe it's because Sameth hadn't really known what to do with holy symbols, like he'd said, maybe it's something else -- Sam doesn't care enough to take any chances, but cracks the demon over the head with an iron bar and follows up with salt water and an exorcism just to be sure.

(It's too damn bad they hadn't still had the Colt when they ended up in Broward. It might have worked, even though the stake hadn't; it might still. God help Bela Talbot if he runs across her now.)

* * * * * * *


He discovers that the number Susannah Toren had given him calls 'Dial-A-Prayer.' Pressing the extension gets him a company operator who's never heard of Tet Security, and who asks him if he's speaking in tongues when he tries the password. Sam hangs up the phone, and channels his frustration into burning out the vampire nest that'd brought him down to Austin in the first place.

* * * * * * *


He'd stopped answering Bobby's calls three months ago. He's not interested in the worry he can hear in the older man's voice, and he doesn't have the time or energy to spare reassuring him, especially when they both know it's a lie anyway. Sam lets his voice mail do the talking for him instead: "It's Sam. Leave me a message." Short and to the point, it says everything that needs saying.

In between jobs he spends his days in his own version of a military routine. He eats a lot of grilled chicken sandwiches without the bread, with steamed vegetables on the side, and cleans his guns every night. He does sit-ups, and pull-ups, and more pushups than he can count, and knows he's in the best physical shape of his life. He keeps each motel room neat and his files ruthlessly organized-- especially the file on the Trickster. That one he puts up on the wall first thing, every time he checks into a new motel. He studies it constantly, even while he's doing everything else, endlessly reviewing every old and new detail and looking for patterns and clues. He'll find the right one eventually. He's sure of it.

One other thing he does is a methodical check of each motel room's doors to see if any of them open to Milliways. Not a door in Broward had, and he'd tried every one of them more than once, every single Tuesday. None of them have since, either, but Sam's not inclined to quit trying that or anything else.

When one of them finally does, he already knows exactly what he's going to do next.
gavemea_45: (intense focus)
-click-

"--heat of the moment, telling me what my heart meant--"


As the clock radio blares in his ear, Sam jerks awake and sits bolt upright. Dean looks over from where he sits on the other bed, tying his shoe.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam transfers his bemused stare from the radio to his brother.

"Dude. Asia?"

Dean just grins and turns up the volume.

"--cause it's the heat of the moment, the HEAT OF THE MOMENT, THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT SHOWED IN YOUR EYES--"

* * * * * * *


It's obviously going to be one of those days, the kind where every little thing gets on his nerves. By the time Sam's dealt with the disgustingly messy toothpaste tube, pointedly ignored Dean's extended gargling session, and waited impatiently at the door of the motel room while Dean searched for his gun, he's about ready to strangle his brother, and they haven't even had breakfast yet.

As they enter the diner, Sam ducks to the side out of the way of the oldster who's meandering toward the door and follows Dean to a booth, trying not to pay attention to the scrawny-looking guy at the counter or the waitress who's telling him he has to order something if he wants to stay. Once they get settled and order breakfast -- the Tuesday special for Dean, pancakes for himself -- Sam pulls out the newspaper clipping about the missing Professor Hasselback and the brochure about the site that the guy'd been investigating when he disappeared.

"The Broward County Mystery Spot," Dean reads. "Where the laws of physics have no meaning." A beat. "You know these places are a joke, right?"

"A lot of them, sure, but you've got to admit the lore's pretty friggin' weird," Sam insists. "The Bermuda Triangle, the Oregon Vortex -- they say that in some of these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend space and time. And since this Hasselback guy did vanish, maybe there's something to this one."

"Two coffees," the waitress ('Doris,' Sam reads from her nametag) interrupts, leaning over to set the cups down on the table between them, not noticing that her tray's beginning to tilt. "And some hot sauce for the -- "

That's as far as she gets before the bottle overbalances and crashes to the floor, spattering hot sauce all over Sam's shoes.

Yeah. It's one of those days.

* * * * * * *


By the time they actually break in to the Mystery Spot that night after hours, Sam's more than ready to get the hell out of Broward, Florida, case or no case. It doesn't help that the place looks exactly like Dean had said it would -- filled with crappy paint, cheap tricks, and furniture nailed to the ceiling.

The worst part of the whole damn day turns out to be when the owner turns out to live in the upstairs apartment and comes down to investigate.

"Are you robbing me? Hands up!"

It's obvious that the guy doesn't know how to handle the shotgun he's pointing back and forth between them, and sure enough, it goes off. Sam ducks instinctively, then glances over to make sure Dean's okay--

--but Dean's on the floor, and there's blood everywhere.

"Call 911!" Sam yells, and dives to the ground beside his brother, frantically trying to stop the bleeding with his bare hands. "No. No. Dean, no, come on, look at me, you're not gonna die, you can't die, not like this--"


-click-

"--heat of the moment, telling me what my heart meant--"



Sam jerks awake and sits bolt upright. Dean looks over from where he sits on the other bed, tying his shoe.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

"... Dean." Sam stares at him. He can almost still see the blood, can still feel the slack weight of his brother's dead body in his arms.

As nightmares go, that's got to be one of the worst he's ever had, and that's saying something.

* * * * * * *


He's still trying to shake it off when they get to the diner, and the weird surreal feeling of déjà vu isn't helping any. Sam dodges the old guy ('Mr. Pickett,' the cashier calls him) on his way to the door and follows Dean to the booth.

"Hey, Tuesday," Dean observes, reading the specials listed on the wall. "Pig 'n a poke."

"...It's Tuesday?"

* * * * * * *


"-- listen to me! Yesterday was Tuesday, and today's Tuesday too. I don't know what happened! We were at the Mystery Spot, and then... "

"Then what?"

"Then I woke up," Sam evades. "Look, we have to check that place out."

Dean heaves a sigh. "All right, fine. We'll go tonight, after closing, get a long look--"

"No!" Sam interrupts. "No. Not tonight. Let's go now. Right this minute. Business hours, nice and crowded."

"Okay, whatever. We'll go now." Dean rolls his eyes and steps into the crosswalk. He doesn't even see the car coming as Mr. Pickett slams into him.

"DEAN!"


-click-

"--heat of the moment, telling me what my heart meant--"


"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam buries his face in his pillow and pulls the covers over his head.

"No."
gavemea_45: (brothers: stargazing (artistic))
Not more than half an hour after they'd gotten settled for the evening, Dean snaps off the TV and tosses the remote aside.

Sam looks up from the computer screen. "Dean?"

"I've got some beer, and this motel room sucks even for our motel rooms. I'm going outside," Dean tells him. "You can bring the corn chips."

"Suits me," Sam agrees, and shuts his laptop.
gavemea_45: (phone)


She's lying. She's got to be.

At least it'll be easy enough to check. Sam makes a list of names, drawing on both his own memory and the things John Winchester had recorded in his journal.

He waits until Dean's gone out before he starts making calls.

"Hi, this is Phil Jones. I needed to check some facts with your secretary... It was a fire that occurred on November 24, 2006. Lawrence, Kansas, that's right..."



One at a time, he starts crossing names off the list.

"I'm trying to get in touch with Steve Hardecker... oh. Could you, uh, tell me when he died?"

"This is police chief Phil Jones. Can you check the records for a Robert Campbell? July 19th, 2001?"

"Dead on arrival. Right. What I'm after is the cause of death. ... a heart condition? Wasn't he a cardiac surgeon? Shouldn't he have known about that?"



Slowly, steadily, the numbers of the dead increase.

"I'm looking for information on Mrs. Wallace's death. Two deaths. I see. Who was the other?"

"Ed Campbell. Uh-huh... were there any survivors? No, that's all I needed. Thanks for your time."




He disconnects the last call and drops the phone on the desk, then sits down on the bed and stares blankly into space for some time.


Eventually Sam digs a crumpled napkin out of his jeans-pocket and unfolds it. He looks down at the number written there for almost a full five minutes before reaching for his phone.

gavemea_45: (brothers - there's tension in the air)
They'd found out the hard way that the seven deadly sins weren't just vices, but actual demons. Demons that had been released through the gate in Wyoming. Sam can't stop wondering about what that means in terms of what else might be out there waiting for them.

It had been a hell of a fight and a hell of a mess to clean up, but between the four of them, they'd managed it.

(Five, actually, counting the mysterious blonde girl with the demon-killing knife, whose name Sam never did get. He can't stop wondering about that, either.)

In any case, now Tamara's gone on her way, Bobby's headed back to his place, and it's just the two of them left.
gavemea_45: (dreamless sleep)
Pretty much anything, anywhere, can be haunted, and there's lots of ways to tell when a spirit is around.

It's one of the first pieces of lore any hunter learns.

Flickering lights, cold spots, the smell or crackle of electricity in the air, objects moving by themselves, phantom or insubstantial figures appearing and disappearing, strange noises and mysterious voices and things going bump in the night -- all are just some of the many methods that a ghost might use to make itself known, when there's a presence to be felt.

Sam Winchester's body, that empty vessel, lies in quiet repose on the torn and dingy mattress where they've laid him.















The room is silent.

And empty.
gavemea_45: (looking down in darkness)
Southern Wyoming

Five abandoned frontier churches.

Five private railroad lines, connecting each to each in a pentacle of cold iron a hundred miles across, with an abandoned cemetery at its heart.

A single crypt at the center of it all, its doors sealed shut by a cold-forged, iron-bound lock graven with holy symbols, for which the only key is the mystical gun made by the same man who created this devil's trap a hundred and fifty years ago.

What Samuel Colt built, he built to last.

Unfortunately, what can be wrought by man can also be destroyed by him, and from the moment Jake Talley puts the gun in the lock, it's already too late. Cylinders whir and spin; tumblers fall into place with the dry rattle of old bones, and gears grind as bolt after bolt draws itself back, leaving the door unsealed for the first time since its creation.

With a scream of rusted metal, the gates of hell blow wide open.



Somewhere beside an unnamed highway

The RV's parked just far enough off the road to be safely out of the way of traffic, but not so far as to have trouble getting its wheels back on the asphalt when it's time to roll on. Passing cars, if there were any, would have no trouble reading the bumper stickers asking "How would Jesus drive" and proudly proclaiming "Bethlehem or Bust."

Kubrick finishes his dinner -- canned chili today, the kind with both beans and meat, what a treat -- sets his plate in the tiny sink, snags his shotgun and steps outside for a breath of fresh air and a peek at the stars before locking up for the night.

One look at the unnatural black clouds writhing overhead, and he's back inside with the door steel-barred and a cross dangling from the knob.

Less than ten seconds later, the taillights come on. The RV swerves back onto the highway and on toward the next town in a hail of gravel.



Lincoln, Nebraska

"Tamara!" The sharp adrenaline in Isaac's voice brings her from their bedroom to the living room on the run, pistol in hand.

He's standing by the window, looking out toward the east. She reaches him in time to see the streaks of demonic smoke storm their way across the sky toward Chicago.

They watch in silence as the clouds vanish, then turn away without a word and go to pack their gear.



In a prison cell

Gordon Walker sits on his cot, ignoring the yells of other inmates and the frightened shouts of the guards alike. His unblinking gaze is fixed on the darkness swirling across the small patch of space outside his barred window.

"Here it comes."

His hands tighten into fists.

"Sam Winchester. Shoulda killed you when I had the chance."
gavemea_45: (sideways)
They've been driving for hours, it's dark, and there's no sign of a town anywhere ahead.

Sam heaves a sigh and reaches for the map.

"If you got us lost, Dean, I'm gonna be pissed."
gavemea_45: (bad day in cold oak)
The first thing he's aware of is how cold the ground is under him.

Sam startles awake and sits up with a jerk, staring around in confusion. Just a second ago he'd been standing at the counter, looking at the pie selection, and now--

"What the hell?"

Slowly he gets to his feet and turns around in a circle, looking at the abandoned town. Empty dirt roads, silent wooden buildings with dark windows, one old creaky mess of a waterwheel, and no sign of life at all. For a half-second he thinks of stone angels and an unexpected trip to Deadwood, but dismisses the thought just as quickly. He'd been in that crappy diner, not at Milliways.

He digs in his pocket for his cell phone, but one look is all it takes to see there's no signal. Sam puts it away again and starts toward the nearest building to search for a land line.

Somehow he's got to get in touch with Dean.

* * * * * * *


It doesn't take him long to realize that there's not much chance of finding anything. Sam tries building after building that's locked up, boarded up, or just plain broken up and empty. He's turning away from another locked door when he hears a creaking noise from around the corner.

Sam snatches up a broken board and makes his way to the edge of the building, then waits to strike. As the shadowy figure moves into view, he starts to swing, then nearly drops the board.

"Andy?"

He hasn't seen Andy Gallagher since Guthrie, Oklahoma, but here the guy is, staring back at him.

"Sam? Sam! What are you doing here? What am I doing here?"

He shakes his head.

"I don't know."

Andy clutches at his sleeve in a panic.

"Where are we?!"

"Look, Andy, try to calm down--"

"I can't calm down! I just woke up in freakin' Frontierland!"

Sam tosses the board aside and looks back at him.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Andy shakes his head. "Honestly? My fourth bong load. It was so weird -- all of a sudden, there was this really awful smell. Kinda like--"

"--like sulfur?" Sam breaks in.

Andy stares at him in surprise.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Sam feels his stomach sink.

We are in so much trouble.
Page generated Jul. 22nd, 2017 12:39 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios