Return of the Sam 6/?
Chapter 6
Oily smoke forced its way down my throat. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run but my body didn't obey. I couldn't move a muscle, couldn't even blink, while this thing took over my body.
The only thing I could do was to scream in my head and a very small part of my brain whispered an unhelpful "Should've listen to Sam." but it drowned quickly in the rising panic.
Calm down, would you? A new voice in my head said. It had a very British accent.
I don't know if he did something to numb my mind but I did calm down. Sort of. Enough to wonder what he wanted.
Your body. Came the prompt answer with a smile I couldn't see but knew for certain was there. Just need to borrow it for a moment, mate.
My body moved without my command and the panic rose again. I was a passenger in my own body. I could see and hear and even smell that damn sandwich still on the table in front of me but I couldn't lift a finger.
I'm not stupid enough to walk around in your meatsuit for longer than I absolutely have to, the voice informed me while I watched my hands working on the cuffs on the other man's wrists. The body in the chair sat slumped down, chin resting on his chest and I wasn't even sure if he was still alive. Maybe he would be better off dead.
Was this what had happened to this man? Had there been another person in there all the time?
Pretty much. The voice, Crowley I remembered his name was, answered my unspoken question. But Georgy-boy here isn't in such a good condition anymore, I need to get back before he dies.
I listened to his explanation but didn't understand what he was saying. If he could just occupy a body why would he bother with his old one if he could just walk out of here with me? For all I knew somebody, most likely Sam, could come looking for me every second now, wouldn't it be wise to escape as quickly as possible?
You're a friend of the Winchesters. Crowley answered my thoughts. Taking you would be the quickest way to die. And we don't want that, don't we?
He tried to sound unbothered but he wasn't. He was in my head and just like he seemed to be able to read my thoughts, I caught glimpses of his. And I was grateful that I only got glimpses of him. I felt something very dark beneath the surface and I had no desire to find out more about that.
However, I could tell that he was actually worried that Sam and Dean would hunt him down if he just walked out of here wearing me as his meatsuit as he'd called it.
Shouldn't he be more afraid of the angel? I mean, he was a demon, an angel should be his natural enemy.
Believe me, Feathers is harmless compared to the Winchesters. Crowley once again answered my thoughts. I should really try to keep my thoughts under control. That thought was met with a soft chuckle from him.
I tried to stop thinking and watched my hands working on the cuffs instead. For some reason the cuffs wouldn't cooperate. Not that I wanted them to. The longer this took the better the chance that Sam came looking for me.
The second I though that, I heard his voice:
"Luis? Are you here?"
Bloody Moose. Crowley cursed while I cheered. Too bad it was him who had control over my voice and legs. He hurried out of the room, shut the secret door and was on the other side of the storage room when Sam finally came around the corner.
"Here you are." He threw a glance in the direction of the secret dungeon where Crowley's empty body still sat bound to the table. "I told you to not come back here."
"Sorry, I got lost." Crowley said with my voice. "Quite some interesting stuff you have around here."
Now Sam smiled. "You've no idea. Come back upstairs, you shouldn't wander around alone. Some of this is quite dangerous."
Says the right one, Crowley commented but followed Sam outside. I didn't know what he meant with that but I was busy trying to give Sam a signal, something to tell him that this wasn't me. But I still couldn't do a damn thing.
C'mon, Sam. I begged him. Figure it out. My attempts must have been pretty pathetic but I had to try.
He can't hear you. Crowley whispered in my head but he didn't sound as pleased as I would have expected.
"Is Cas still with Dean?" I heard myself asking. It sounded normal, just a casual thing to ask, but with him sharing my mind I could tell that Crowley was anything but casual.
He's an angel. There might have been a light bulb above my head. He would know.
Yes, he would, Crowley answered. So change of plans, we have to get out of here before he sees us.
What? No! However, I could scream and protest as much as I wanted, I had no say in this.
Sam confirmed that Cas was still with Dean and I could feel Crowley relax a little bit. Not completely, he was still a prisoner on the run and sooner or later somebody would find his empty body, and for sure not enough for me to overpower him, but he relaxed enough to enjoy this with gleeful delight.
He was on his way out and so far he'd fooled Sam. His life was good.
"I think I'll take a nap." Crowley announced when we reached more familiar terrain. I felt something strange, a pulling and searching in my memories, and then Crowley headed for the room that was currently mine. "The nights have been rather short lately."
Sam frowned at him and for a second I thought he'd caught on but then he just nodded and said: "Alright." He turned and waved over his shoulder. "And stay away from Crowley, you've no idea what you're dealing with."
Little late for that warning, isn't it? Crowley's smug voice echoed through my mind.
Seconds later we were in my room and the door closed behind us, effectively cutting me off from anybody who could help me. The panic rose again and I would have been close to hyperventilating if I only had control over things like my own breathing.
Relax. Crowley actually tried to calm me down. We sneak out in a second and then I'll arrange an exchange of prisoners, your body for mine. We just have to play bunk buddies for a little while longer.
I didn't believe him but there was nothing I could do. There was nothing I could do to keep him from digging through my memories either.
You're Luis Waiden! He blurted out as if he'd just realized something he should have known. Sam's old Stanford buddy. You were the one Sam and his Jess were celebrating his LSAT with before his normal little life went up in smoke.
How do you know that? Probably from my memories, that idea alone was scary as shit, but I got the feeling he'd known before.
I've read the books.
Books? I asked but he didn't bother explaining.
Crowley waited endless minutes before he opened the door and glanced outside. The hallway was empty but I heard faint voices coming from the library.
I still tried to fight him, to get back control over my body if only for a second. One second would be enough to yell a warning, to get Sam's attention. I was pretty sure he knew how to get rid of my unwanted passenger, yeah I know, he was the pilot and I was the passenger, but you get the point.
Oh, Moose knows how to toss me out. Crowley once again answered my thoughts. I got the feeling he actually enjoyed messing with my head.
What gave it away?
Fuming on the inside I helplessly watched while we sneaked down the hallway. The voices grew louder but Crowley didn't even bother to peek around the corner to confirm that Sam and Kevin were too engrossed in whatever they were doing to notice us sneaking out.
For some reason that was the most confusing part, or my brain had just decided to stick to something silly like this to prevent me from thinking about the demon inside my head, but was it me, him or us right now? Was this still my body or his?
By the time I was paying attention to the outside world again Crowley was half-way up the stairs to the door leading outside. He knew that once he'd reached that door he would be free. I didn't know what difference one step would make, we would still be within Sam's reach if he would finally notice that something was wrong.
I struggled with new strength born from desperation but it was no use. Crowley reached for the door and then sunlight hit my face.
I hadn't seen the outside of this place before and to be honest, it was rather boring. An empty road and nothing else. As far as I could tell we were in the middle of nowhere with no car and only one way to go.
Sam had probably his car somewhere around so even with a head-start he would still be able to catch up with us.
Where we're going, we don't need roads. Crowley said in that smug voice of his and quietly closed the door. Then he took a step and with that we weren't in Kansas anymore.
It was just like when Castiel had first taken me with him. A moment of disorientation, the scenery changed and I had no idea where I was.
Home sweet home. Crowley announced.
This is your home? The panic and fear forgotten for the moment I just had to ask. This was ridiculous, wasn't he supposed to be the King of Hell? Not that I wanted to visit hell.
Temporary home. He clarified and actually sounded a little bit ashamed. It's safe.
We were in a trailer. A small, shitty trailer. It was old, worn down and it smelled. And every wall, even the ceiling, was covered with weird symbols. Red paint. I hoped it was paint.
It isn't. Crowley inspected every single one of the symbols and even cut my palm to renew a few details where the dried blood had flaked off.
I felt the cut, it hurt like hell, but he didn't seem to feel it at all. The cut healed as soon as he was done, though. Thank God for small mercies.
Watch your language, boy.
I cracked up at that. This was ridiculous. My laughter may have held a hysterical note but it was only in my head and he was the only one to hear so I didn't care.
Not bothering with me Crowley had one satisfied look around before he dropped in the only chair. It groaned and squeaked under our weight and for a second I thought it would break right under our ass. It would just have been my luck. Which sent me right into the next fit.
Sam will come for me. I told him when I could breathe again, figuratively speaking, but I wasn't sure if I was trying to threaten him or comforting myself.
I know. He shifted until the spring we were sitting on didn't pierce into my left butt cheek anymore. That's why I'm going to call him.
He produced a phone from somewhere and hit speed dial.
"Hello, Moose."
Chapter 7
Masterpost