[The jig is up, the news it out, they finally found me]
[What do you remember?]
He’s asleep when it happens and surprisingly it takes him a while to realize it’s not a vision. The images hit like a train, crushing him with their weight. They’re real and they hurt. It’s not surprising when the pain starts at the base of his neck and radiates outward until his whole body feels contorted with it. In reality, he’s curled in a ball, as small as Sam Winchester can make himself, in the middle of the bed.
The wake of all those images leaves him breathless and drenched in sweat. Once it’s all over, he struggles with the sheets and blankets, heading for the shower first.
“C'mooon!! Where the hell are you??..I don't want ten years. I don't want one year. I don't want candy! I want to trade places with Dean!”
“If you do this, Sam, all those people you saved won’t be.”
Sam swallowed hard, coming to terms with all those innocent lives. He never could save the ones that really matter: Mom, Jess, Dad…Dean so he nodded, wetting his lips because he knew she’d require more than that to make a deal. “But I’ll save Dean.”
“Yes. I can save Dean. You’ll trade the whole world for your brother.”
“He’ll be happy?” Sam was direct about that because it was one of the sticking points. His soul might not be worth much but it turned out the souls of everyone they’d ever saved was.
“I’ll set him up in a little house with a picket fence. I’ll throw in Mary for a bonus.” After all, she’d really never done anything to them. Mary Campbell (Winchester) had helped them. She’d never be standing here in front of the anti-Christ making a deal if it weren’t for the feisty blond that had started it all.
“Mom?” It was an offer he couldn’t refuse and the demon standing in front of him knew that.
“Exactly the way she wanted her life. You’ll go to Stanford and become a brilliant lawyer. Dean will get his house, his pretty little wife and a mini van…or something equivalent. He won’t remember this.”
That was a lie. Dean would remember everything given time. Memories could only be suppressed for so long, particularly the kind of memories that the Winchesters had.
“Jess?” Sam asked. He knew he was pushing his limits and testing the demon’s patience.
The woman considered it for a moment, head tilting. She knew the direction this choice would take Sam. She could see the tiny threads of their lives spooling out. Some things couldn’t be changed but they could be altered.
“Alright.”
“Really?” His voice was piqued with surprise and excitement. That phrase ‘too good to be true’ played over and over in his head but then Hell was getting a few hundred new souls. It was a pricey deal no matter what.
“I’ve got my faults, Sam. I can omit things and I can twist things but I don’t lie. If I say I’ll give you Jess back, I’ll give you her back.”
“Okay.” The answer was whipfire quick, as if he was afraid he’d change his mind if given any more time.
For a second, the demon wearing a woman suit looks surprised. Her dark eyebrows arch up toward her hairline and then fall as her face settles into an expression of satisfaction. “You know what it takes to seal a deal with someone like me.”
A kiss that felt like death and then nothing. He woke up in bed with Jess. Of course a couple of months later she’d been struck with cancer and she’d died but the demon hadn’t lied. She’d given him Jess back. The water pounds on Sam’s shoulders as he leans his forehead against the tiled wall in the bathroom. He sorts the images out-memories of the life he’d traded for this one. He flinches as they hit, hunching a little more under the weight of each.
He’d accused John of not doing anything to help Dean only to find out he’d done everything. Their father’s body burning on a pyre instead of buried deep in the ground the way he is in this life. Sam likes the image of him snug and safe better than he does of his father burning.
Dean-there are too many memories of his brother to sort. Just having those memories and knowing…it hollows him out, scraping everything from the sides so that he is empty. The feeling makes him nauseous and it takes several deep, gulping breaths to calm his stomach. Even now, with the memories and reasons so tangled that he can’t follow them, he knows why he made the deal. He knows he would make it again and again.
“I have demon blood in me, Dean. I’m a whole new level of freak!”
He’s a monster and he doesn’t care. Dean is happy. He’s got his picket fence and his pretty girlfriend, their mother just down the street. He runs John’s garage and he doesn’t remember any of this. He doesn’t remember Hell and to Sam, that’s worth a few hundred souls.
“No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam.”
“Yes, I do!”
“Then that's worse!”
“Why?”
“Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means...”
“What? Say it!”
“ It means you're a monster.”
He’s asleep when it happens and surprisingly it takes him a while to realize it’s not a vision. The images hit like a train, crushing him with their weight. They’re real and they hurt. It’s not surprising when the pain starts at the base of his neck and radiates outward until his whole body feels contorted with it. In reality, he’s curled in a ball, as small as Sam Winchester can make himself, in the middle of the bed.
The wake of all those images leaves him breathless and drenched in sweat. Once it’s all over, he struggles with the sheets and blankets, heading for the shower first.
“C'mooon!! Where the hell are you??..I don't want ten years. I don't want one year. I don't want candy! I want to trade places with Dean!”
“If you do this, Sam, all those people you saved won’t be.”
Sam swallowed hard, coming to terms with all those innocent lives. He never could save the ones that really matter: Mom, Jess, Dad…Dean so he nodded, wetting his lips because he knew she’d require more than that to make a deal. “But I’ll save Dean.”
“Yes. I can save Dean. You’ll trade the whole world for your brother.”
“He’ll be happy?” Sam was direct about that because it was one of the sticking points. His soul might not be worth much but it turned out the souls of everyone they’d ever saved was.
“I’ll set him up in a little house with a picket fence. I’ll throw in Mary for a bonus.” After all, she’d really never done anything to them. Mary Campbell (Winchester) had helped them. She’d never be standing here in front of the anti-Christ making a deal if it weren’t for the feisty blond that had started it all.
“Mom?” It was an offer he couldn’t refuse and the demon standing in front of him knew that.
“Exactly the way she wanted her life. You’ll go to Stanford and become a brilliant lawyer. Dean will get his house, his pretty little wife and a mini van…or something equivalent. He won’t remember this.”
That was a lie. Dean would remember everything given time. Memories could only be suppressed for so long, particularly the kind of memories that the Winchesters had.
“Jess?” Sam asked. He knew he was pushing his limits and testing the demon’s patience.
The woman considered it for a moment, head tilting. She knew the direction this choice would take Sam. She could see the tiny threads of their lives spooling out. Some things couldn’t be changed but they could be altered.
“Alright.”
“Really?” His voice was piqued with surprise and excitement. That phrase ‘too good to be true’ played over and over in his head but then Hell was getting a few hundred new souls. It was a pricey deal no matter what.
“I’ve got my faults, Sam. I can omit things and I can twist things but I don’t lie. If I say I’ll give you Jess back, I’ll give you her back.”
“Okay.” The answer was whipfire quick, as if he was afraid he’d change his mind if given any more time.
For a second, the demon wearing a woman suit looks surprised. Her dark eyebrows arch up toward her hairline and then fall as her face settles into an expression of satisfaction. “You know what it takes to seal a deal with someone like me.”
A kiss that felt like death and then nothing. He woke up in bed with Jess. Of course a couple of months later she’d been struck with cancer and she’d died but the demon hadn’t lied. She’d given him Jess back. The water pounds on Sam’s shoulders as he leans his forehead against the tiled wall in the bathroom. He sorts the images out-memories of the life he’d traded for this one. He flinches as they hit, hunching a little more under the weight of each.
He’d accused John of not doing anything to help Dean only to find out he’d done everything. Their father’s body burning on a pyre instead of buried deep in the ground the way he is in this life. Sam likes the image of him snug and safe better than he does of his father burning.
Dean-there are too many memories of his brother to sort. Just having those memories and knowing…it hollows him out, scraping everything from the sides so that he is empty. The feeling makes him nauseous and it takes several deep, gulping breaths to calm his stomach. Even now, with the memories and reasons so tangled that he can’t follow them, he knows why he made the deal. He knows he would make it again and again.
“I have demon blood in me, Dean. I’m a whole new level of freak!”
He’s a monster and he doesn’t care. Dean is happy. He’s got his picket fence and his pretty girlfriend, their mother just down the street. He runs John’s garage and he doesn’t remember any of this. He doesn’t remember Hell and to Sam, that’s worth a few hundred souls.
“No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam.”
“Yes, I do!”
“Then that's worse!”
“Why?”
“Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means...”
“What? Say it!”
“ It means you're a monster.”