alwaysenduphere (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysenduphere) wrote2009-10-01 11:00 am
alwaysenduphere) wrote2009-10-01 11:00 am
Entry tags:
fic: i cheat destiny just to be near you
Title: i cheat destiny just to be near you
Word Count: 1,339
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Events happen a little differently, and Sam makes a hard choice.
A/n: Meh. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spnland’s “what if” challenge. I don't consider this wincest, but there's a line that could possibly be taken as such.
When Sam opened his eyes, the cookie he'd been eating a moment earlier felt heavy on his tongue and his taste buds rebelled with the sensation. His body couldn't comprehend what his brain was quickly processing: Jessica, looking down at him from the ceiling. Blonde hair, Orange fire, Red blood.
The door crashed open, and he felt arms pulling him away from her, vaguely heard Dean's voice calling him as he flailed in Dean's grasp, unwilling to leave Jessica there to die. That's when he saw the shadow by the bedroom window. Instinctively, he lunged toward it, but Dean gripped him tight. Sam KNEW, knew like he knew his own name that the shadow was the thing that killed his mom, knew that if he didn't do something quickly, Jess would also die. All the rage and fear of growing up Sam Winchester bubbled up inside of him, and he shoved Dean away with an unknown strength. The sound of Dean's head colliding with the wall as he fell away barely registered with Sam, as he charged toward the shadow, twenty-three years of rage boiling in his head.
The shadow had seen him coming of course, and by the time he was within grasping distance, it turned yellow eyes to meet his and just shook its head. "Not the time, Sammy," it said, but Sam didn't listen. He swung at it, and to the surprise of both he and the shadow with yellow eyes, his fist collided.
Jess screamed as her body was released from the ceiling and fell down to the bed with a resounding thud.
Sam was on top of the shadow in a second, focusing all his rage into his fists, but they were connecting few and far between. Just as suddenly as he'd had the advantage, it was gone, and he was thrown across the room, landing next to Dean's unconscious body.
"Oh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Got some tricks up your sleeve, huh. Bet you didn't know you had them. Hell, I didn't know you'd be quite so ripe for the picking just yet. It's quite nice to see." His yellow eyes gleamed brighter as his form began to fade into the shadows cast from the window. The sound of sirens wailed louder and louder. "Anyway, it's time for me to be going. We'll meet again soon. Oh, and sorry I didn't quite get to finish off Jess the way I did precious Mary. But there's always a next time." And then the yellow eyes disappeared, and Sam crumbled to the floor.
***
His ass is numb from sitting in the oddly shaped waiting room chairs and his head keeps lolling down to his chest. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to truly sleep again, image of Jessica on the ceiling brandished into his mind. He wonders fleetingly what his dad sees when he tries to sleep. A cough startles him alert and he looks up to find Dean holding out a cup of coffee.
Sam stares reluctantly at the cup. “I’m afraid maybe you poisoned it or something, I think.”
“You knocked me over the head in a fit of rage, not stole my lunch money. It’s not that big a deal. Doctors gave me the all-clear or else I wouldn’t be standing here. Anyway, you had other things on your mind.”
Sam looks over Dean, bandage covering the spot on his head where he’d collided with the wall and his skin had split open. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Yeah.” There’s a weight behind the single word, and Sam waits for Dean to say more, waits for him to yell at him like Dad probably would. Instead, Dean clears his throat and sits down beside Sam. “Any word?”
“Still in surgery, I think. They were more concerned with the burns than the…her stomach.”
“Sam, I’m sorry.”
Sam fiddles with the lid on his coffee cup. “This is the thing that killed mom, isn’t it? It said…”
As he trails off, he spares a glance at his brother in the chair next to him, sees how weary he looks, and knows he doesn’t ever want to look like that. “You know, I’m torn between blaming you for taking me away from her this weekend and blaming myself for going with you, thinking I could be a part of that life again.”
Dean scoffs. “’That life’? Hunting, Sam. You grew up in it; it’s your whole life. Dad, you, me, that’s all there is.”
“And where’s Dad in all this? Off chasing some phantom demon? Well, newsflash: we found it! He’s real good at this hunting thing, huh?”
Dean shifts in his seat. “Don’t talk about Dad that way, Sam. After all the shit you’ve put him through…”
“You mean running away? Going to college? Normal fathers would want that for their children, Dean. Not some fucked-up life of chasing monsters in the dark. No, that’s all there WAS. It’s not for me, Dean. You still don’t get that? I don’t want that life, I never did. And now more than anything, I just want Jess to be okay so we can have OUR life.”
Dean sits silently beside him as Sam takes in what he’s just said. He’s angry, angrier than he’s been in a long time; angrier than he’s been since the last time he saw Dad. But he knows it’s not all Dean’s fault.
“Dean…”
“Don’t. You don’t want to be around me, I get it. Don’t talk it to death.” Sam thinks of a time when all he wanted was to be around Dean, his whole life boiled down to the sound of his name rolling off Dean’s lips. Some days he wants to go back there, but he walked out on that when Jessica walked into his.
They sit in silence.
Sam’s eyes track doctors and nurses as they hurry by the waiting area, ignoring the two men sitting there. Finally, a male doctor in green scrubs walking toward them. Sam tenses in his seat as he approaches. “Sam Winchester?”
“Yeah,” Sam croaks out. Clears his throat, tries again. “Yeah. How is she?”
“Her injuries are fairly critical. We managed to repair most of the damage done to her stomach, although the extent of the injury may cause some complications, so we’re monitoring that now. I’m more worried about her burns. We’ve bandaged the majority of them, but right now, the biggest concern is infection. And she will need some skin grafts. Have you contacted her family?”
Sam’s been nodding along to the doctor so far, absorbing but not really comprehending his words. He stares blankly at the doctor, the question hanging in the air until Dean lightly nudges him. “Oh. Sorry. Her family…her family’s gone. It’s just her. And me, I guess.”
“Well, then. I’m sorry I don’t have better news. She’s being moved to recovery. She’s still unconscious, but you can see her in just a minute if you’d like.” Sam nods as the doctor walks away.
“Sam.”
“I should go see her.”
“Sam, we need to talk about this.” Dean frowns, and then winces as the motion hurts his head.
“No. Dean, you get this thing, whatever it is. But I’m staying here. I’m staying with Jessica; it’s the least she deserves. I mean it. You want to help me? You do whatever the hell you have to do to find the son of a bitch that did this. And hell, you let me know when you find it, and I may just come along and kill it myself. But I’m not running around chasing broken leads when I could be here, taking care of Jess. That’s the end of it.”
“And dad?”
“I’m sure he’s fine. Besides, he’s the one who told me not to come back. So I’m not. I’m going to go see my girlfriend. Goodbye, Dean.”
As Sam walks away from Dean, part of his mind screams at him to turn around, at least say goodbye properly, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t look back.
Word Count: 1,339
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Events happen a little differently, and Sam makes a hard choice.
A/n: Meh. Written for
spnland’s “what if” challenge. I don't consider this wincest, but there's a line that could possibly be taken as such.When Sam opened his eyes, the cookie he'd been eating a moment earlier felt heavy on his tongue and his taste buds rebelled with the sensation. His body couldn't comprehend what his brain was quickly processing: Jessica, looking down at him from the ceiling. Blonde hair, Orange fire, Red blood.
The door crashed open, and he felt arms pulling him away from her, vaguely heard Dean's voice calling him as he flailed in Dean's grasp, unwilling to leave Jessica there to die. That's when he saw the shadow by the bedroom window. Instinctively, he lunged toward it, but Dean gripped him tight. Sam KNEW, knew like he knew his own name that the shadow was the thing that killed his mom, knew that if he didn't do something quickly, Jess would also die. All the rage and fear of growing up Sam Winchester bubbled up inside of him, and he shoved Dean away with an unknown strength. The sound of Dean's head colliding with the wall as he fell away barely registered with Sam, as he charged toward the shadow, twenty-three years of rage boiling in his head.
The shadow had seen him coming of course, and by the time he was within grasping distance, it turned yellow eyes to meet his and just shook its head. "Not the time, Sammy," it said, but Sam didn't listen. He swung at it, and to the surprise of both he and the shadow with yellow eyes, his fist collided.
Jess screamed as her body was released from the ceiling and fell down to the bed with a resounding thud.
Sam was on top of the shadow in a second, focusing all his rage into his fists, but they were connecting few and far between. Just as suddenly as he'd had the advantage, it was gone, and he was thrown across the room, landing next to Dean's unconscious body.
"Oh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Got some tricks up your sleeve, huh. Bet you didn't know you had them. Hell, I didn't know you'd be quite so ripe for the picking just yet. It's quite nice to see." His yellow eyes gleamed brighter as his form began to fade into the shadows cast from the window. The sound of sirens wailed louder and louder. "Anyway, it's time for me to be going. We'll meet again soon. Oh, and sorry I didn't quite get to finish off Jess the way I did precious Mary. But there's always a next time." And then the yellow eyes disappeared, and Sam crumbled to the floor.
***
His ass is numb from sitting in the oddly shaped waiting room chairs and his head keeps lolling down to his chest. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to truly sleep again, image of Jessica on the ceiling brandished into his mind. He wonders fleetingly what his dad sees when he tries to sleep. A cough startles him alert and he looks up to find Dean holding out a cup of coffee.
Sam stares reluctantly at the cup. “I’m afraid maybe you poisoned it or something, I think.”
“You knocked me over the head in a fit of rage, not stole my lunch money. It’s not that big a deal. Doctors gave me the all-clear or else I wouldn’t be standing here. Anyway, you had other things on your mind.”
Sam looks over Dean, bandage covering the spot on his head where he’d collided with the wall and his skin had split open. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Yeah.” There’s a weight behind the single word, and Sam waits for Dean to say more, waits for him to yell at him like Dad probably would. Instead, Dean clears his throat and sits down beside Sam. “Any word?”
“Still in surgery, I think. They were more concerned with the burns than the…her stomach.”
“Sam, I’m sorry.”
Sam fiddles with the lid on his coffee cup. “This is the thing that killed mom, isn’t it? It said…”
As he trails off, he spares a glance at his brother in the chair next to him, sees how weary he looks, and knows he doesn’t ever want to look like that. “You know, I’m torn between blaming you for taking me away from her this weekend and blaming myself for going with you, thinking I could be a part of that life again.”
Dean scoffs. “’That life’? Hunting, Sam. You grew up in it; it’s your whole life. Dad, you, me, that’s all there is.”
“And where’s Dad in all this? Off chasing some phantom demon? Well, newsflash: we found it! He’s real good at this hunting thing, huh?”
Dean shifts in his seat. “Don’t talk about Dad that way, Sam. After all the shit you’ve put him through…”
“You mean running away? Going to college? Normal fathers would want that for their children, Dean. Not some fucked-up life of chasing monsters in the dark. No, that’s all there WAS. It’s not for me, Dean. You still don’t get that? I don’t want that life, I never did. And now more than anything, I just want Jess to be okay so we can have OUR life.”
Dean sits silently beside him as Sam takes in what he’s just said. He’s angry, angrier than he’s been in a long time; angrier than he’s been since the last time he saw Dad. But he knows it’s not all Dean’s fault.
“Dean…”
“Don’t. You don’t want to be around me, I get it. Don’t talk it to death.” Sam thinks of a time when all he wanted was to be around Dean, his whole life boiled down to the sound of his name rolling off Dean’s lips. Some days he wants to go back there, but he walked out on that when Jessica walked into his.
They sit in silence.
Sam’s eyes track doctors and nurses as they hurry by the waiting area, ignoring the two men sitting there. Finally, a male doctor in green scrubs walking toward them. Sam tenses in his seat as he approaches. “Sam Winchester?”
“Yeah,” Sam croaks out. Clears his throat, tries again. “Yeah. How is she?”
“Her injuries are fairly critical. We managed to repair most of the damage done to her stomach, although the extent of the injury may cause some complications, so we’re monitoring that now. I’m more worried about her burns. We’ve bandaged the majority of them, but right now, the biggest concern is infection. And she will need some skin grafts. Have you contacted her family?”
Sam’s been nodding along to the doctor so far, absorbing but not really comprehending his words. He stares blankly at the doctor, the question hanging in the air until Dean lightly nudges him. “Oh. Sorry. Her family…her family’s gone. It’s just her. And me, I guess.”
“Well, then. I’m sorry I don’t have better news. She’s being moved to recovery. She’s still unconscious, but you can see her in just a minute if you’d like.” Sam nods as the doctor walks away.
“Sam.”
“I should go see her.”
“Sam, we need to talk about this.” Dean frowns, and then winces as the motion hurts his head.
“No. Dean, you get this thing, whatever it is. But I’m staying here. I’m staying with Jessica; it’s the least she deserves. I mean it. You want to help me? You do whatever the hell you have to do to find the son of a bitch that did this. And hell, you let me know when you find it, and I may just come along and kill it myself. But I’m not running around chasing broken leads when I could be here, taking care of Jess. That’s the end of it.”
“And dad?”
“I’m sure he’s fine. Besides, he’s the one who told me not to come back. So I’m not. I’m going to go see my girlfriend. Goodbye, Dean.”
As Sam walks away from Dean, part of his mind screams at him to turn around, at least say goodbye properly, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t look back.