Fic: Uncharted Territories (3/14) (SPN, Gen)
Chapter Three: Answering the Call
Chapter Word Count: 1,769
Total Fic Word Count: 4,587/?
Chapter One || Chapter Two
It took Sam a good forty-five minutes to get away from Sucrocorp after everything went down. Most of that time had been spent sabotaging the campus and setting up explosions that would hopefully severely cripple the production and shipping of the deadly additive. He couldn't do anything about the stuff that had already shipped, unfortunately, but he'd do his damnedest to make sure that no more went out into the world. Sam paused long enough to retrieve the Impala from the sign Meg had crashed it into, having used some cars he'd found (and hot-wired) in the parking lot as gasoline-fueled incendiary devices parked in the middle of the lobby. He had made sure to give himself some time to get away, but he knew his luck wouldn't hold out for much longer.
The Impala was running a little rough as Sam peeled out of the parking lot, but he ignored it in favor of making a quick getaway. He felt better once he was back on the highway, putting as much distance between himself and what had happened as he could. Sucrocorp was fifty miles in Sam's rearview mirror when his cellphone rang, startling him. Sam pulled off to the side of the road, killing the engine and then hurriedly snatching up the electronic device before answering it.
“Hello?”
“Sam?! Oh thank God, you're okay!”
Sam blinked, startled. “Becky?” he spluttered. “What-- How did you get this number?”
“I found it in one of Chuck's unpublished manuscripts,” Becky told him, sounding far too cheery for the current situation. “He sent about six to me last week out of the blue. Said that they might be helpful soon. I was in the middle of reading when I saw that he had written me calling you into the story. Me, Sam.” Becky let out a soft squeal of joy that nevertheless made Sam's ear hurt.
“Becky, I need you to listen to me,” he said, keeping his voice firm. “Does the manuscript say where Dean and Cas are at the moment?”
There was a shuffling of paper on the other end of the line and then a pause. Sam was about to speak when Becky piped up, sounding uncharacteristically subdued.
“Oh. Oh, Sam, I'm sorry.”
“Becky, where are they?”
Becky drew in a deep breath and then let it out slowly; the action translated into a rush of static across the line. “Purgatory,” she said finally. “Oh, Sam, they're in Purgatory. Give me a second; maybe there's more to the story. Let me check through the other manuscripts, there are some here I haven't looked at yet.”
“Sure, Becky.” Sam sat quietly as he listened to Becky rustling around, his thoughts going a mile a second. Purgatory. It made sense, in a twisted way, but still: Purgatory. That was a whole new level of crap added onto the already heaping mountain that seemed to overhang almost every minute of the Winchesters' lives. Sam ran his free hand through his hair, trying to process everything that had happened over the past few hours. It took a few minutes, but eventually Becky came back on the line, sounding far more like her usually manically happy self than she had before.
“Okay, so, I found some things that are so totally awesome that you're going to explode with happiness,” she told him brightly. “The first, and the best, is that Dean and Castiel are okay.”
Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and loosened his almost white-knuckle grip on the phone. “And the second?”
“The first isn't finished, Sam!” Becky told him chidingly. “Dean and Castiel have found these-- well, I guess you could call them freedom fighters of a sort but that's only part of what they do. I mean, it's so totally cool and--”
“Becky.”
“Right, right, sorry. Long story short, they were rescued from some absolutely nasty baddies and then taken to this huge underground hideout called the Haven. There're a lot of good supernatural beings and angels there, including-- get this --Gabriel. He's like the Head Honcho of the entire operation, and they have a network of spies and satellite Havens for the people who can't fit in the main Haven.”
“So, Dean and Cas are okay, and they're with Gabriel. Wow. Um, okay. That's... Well, that's fantastic. What was the second 'totally awesome thing'?”
“Oh, right! I can't believe I almost forgot. You need to go to the Blue Moon Motel and Diner on U.S. Route Six. It's about a hundred miles north from where you're at. You should be able to get there in a couple of hours.”
“And what'll happen there?” Sam asked. When Becky replied, he could almost hear the grin in her voice.
“You'll find out when you get there. Goodbye, and good luck, Sam!”
With that, Becky hung up, leaving Sam to his own devices once more. Well, all right then. To the Blue Moon Motel and Diner it was.
---
The Blue Moon Motel and Diner was a well-kept collection of buildings near a truck stop off of Route Six. Sam pulled the Impala into a parking space, turned it off, and then went inside the diner. It was decorated like a classic 50's-style diner, complete with a clean-cut red-and-white color scheme. The diner was also entirely empty, save for a woman in a long dark blue coat sitting at the counter on one of the pedestal-style bar stools. She looked to be roughly Sam's own age, if not a few years younger. Sam took a seat at the counter a few stools away from the woman, who appeared to be working on a crossword puzzle in the newspaper she was reading. A waitress emerged from the kitchen, her bottle-blond hair held back in a loose ponytail.
“How can I help you, hon?” she asked Sam, grabbing a coffee mug and setting it down in front of him.
“Well, I'm not sure, to be honest. I think I may be supposed to be meeting someone here, but I'm not sure. Do the names Becky Rosen or Sam Winchester mean anything to you?”
The waitress thought it over for a minute and then shook her head. “No, sorry.”
Sam nodded. “It was worth a shot,” he muttered as the waitress poured coffee into his mug. “Thanks, anyways.”
“Sure thing. If you need anything, just holler. I'll be back in the kitchen.” The waitress topped up the other woman's coffee and then left, going back through the swinging door that led into the kitchen. Once the waitress was gone, Sam settled back and sipped at his coffee. It was actually pretty good, if not a little old. He drank his coffee in silence, staring off into space as he did so.
“So, I take it you're Sam Winchester, then?” a voice asked from his left. Sam turned at the sound to see the only other patron in the diner looking at him, her blue-gray eyes reminding the hunter of Castiel's almost, though they weren't as vibrant. She smiled at his instinctual look of distrust and shrugged.
“You don't look much like Becky,” she continued on. “I'm Lee, by the way; Lee Harper. I'm a friend of Becky's, if it helps any. She told me to come here and meet, and I quote, 'a gorgeous tall guy with great eyes and an even better ass. Oh, and his name's Sam'. I can't speak for the state of your ass, but you fit the rest of the description, as well as the fact that you know Becky. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.”
“No, no, I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you, I guess,” Sam said dazedly. “Do you know what's going on here?”
“Not really, but when Becky is reduced to incoherent babbling and the constant repetition of the word 'epic', I've learned that it's probably prudent to check out whatever has her excited, if nothing else to make sure she doesn't get hurt,” Lee said with an expression that spoke volumes about her experiences with Becky's enthusiasm.
“Yeah, the last few times we met, she was definitely a giant ball of energy,” Sam replied, laughing softly. “Did she say if she was going to be here?”
Lee shook her head. “No, but with Becky, it's usually more along the lines of 'when', not 'if'. I've already got a room rented-- she said this could take a while --so it might be prudent for you to do the same. Assuming, of course, that you don't just live nearby.”
“No, I don't. I take it you don't either?”
“Nope. Becky called me a couple days ago, told me that she needed me to come here as soon as I could,” Lee said after taking a sip of her coffee. “I'm based in Boise, but thankfully I'm self-employed, so I can take off some time if I need to. What about you?”
“Basically the same, but I'm out of Kansas,” Sam told her. Well, a half-lie was better than nothing. He sighed softly and then drained the last of his coffee. “I guess I might as well get a room like you said,” he continued on. “I could use a shower and some sleep anyways. See you later, I suppose.”
“See you.”
Sam put a few dollars on the counter for the coffee and then headed over to the motel lobby, which could be accessed via a short hallway at the back of the diner. There was a bored-looking man at the reception desk who barely looked at Sam as he took the credit card Sam handed him and then checked him in. Sam was handed a card-key for Room 17, which he took gratefully. The room was comfortably furnished with a single queen-sized bed, a small kitchenette, and an attached bathroom. Sam lost no time in getting his duffel bag from the trunk of the Impala and then getting into the shower, thankful for the chance to wash away the remnants of the day's battles.
Once he was clean, Sam put on some fresh clothes, laid salt lines at the threshold and windowsill, and then lay down on the bed, intending to only relax for a few minutes before exploring the motel a little more. His intentions were dashed, however, when he succumbed to slumber, the siren call of the soft mattress beneath him overpowering his will to stay awake.
Chapter Word Count: 1,769
Total Fic Word Count: 4,587/?
Chapter One || Chapter Two
It took Sam a good forty-five minutes to get away from Sucrocorp after everything went down. Most of that time had been spent sabotaging the campus and setting up explosions that would hopefully severely cripple the production and shipping of the deadly additive. He couldn't do anything about the stuff that had already shipped, unfortunately, but he'd do his damnedest to make sure that no more went out into the world. Sam paused long enough to retrieve the Impala from the sign Meg had crashed it into, having used some cars he'd found (and hot-wired) in the parking lot as gasoline-fueled incendiary devices parked in the middle of the lobby. He had made sure to give himself some time to get away, but he knew his luck wouldn't hold out for much longer.
The Impala was running a little rough as Sam peeled out of the parking lot, but he ignored it in favor of making a quick getaway. He felt better once he was back on the highway, putting as much distance between himself and what had happened as he could. Sucrocorp was fifty miles in Sam's rearview mirror when his cellphone rang, startling him. Sam pulled off to the side of the road, killing the engine and then hurriedly snatching up the electronic device before answering it.
“Hello?”
“Sam?! Oh thank God, you're okay!”
Sam blinked, startled. “Becky?” he spluttered. “What-- How did you get this number?”
“I found it in one of Chuck's unpublished manuscripts,” Becky told him, sounding far too cheery for the current situation. “He sent about six to me last week out of the blue. Said that they might be helpful soon. I was in the middle of reading when I saw that he had written me calling you into the story. Me, Sam.” Becky let out a soft squeal of joy that nevertheless made Sam's ear hurt.
“Becky, I need you to listen to me,” he said, keeping his voice firm. “Does the manuscript say where Dean and Cas are at the moment?”
There was a shuffling of paper on the other end of the line and then a pause. Sam was about to speak when Becky piped up, sounding uncharacteristically subdued.
“Oh. Oh, Sam, I'm sorry.”
“Becky, where are they?”
Becky drew in a deep breath and then let it out slowly; the action translated into a rush of static across the line. “Purgatory,” she said finally. “Oh, Sam, they're in Purgatory. Give me a second; maybe there's more to the story. Let me check through the other manuscripts, there are some here I haven't looked at yet.”
“Sure, Becky.” Sam sat quietly as he listened to Becky rustling around, his thoughts going a mile a second. Purgatory. It made sense, in a twisted way, but still: Purgatory. That was a whole new level of crap added onto the already heaping mountain that seemed to overhang almost every minute of the Winchesters' lives. Sam ran his free hand through his hair, trying to process everything that had happened over the past few hours. It took a few minutes, but eventually Becky came back on the line, sounding far more like her usually manically happy self than she had before.
“Okay, so, I found some things that are so totally awesome that you're going to explode with happiness,” she told him brightly. “The first, and the best, is that Dean and Castiel are okay.”
Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and loosened his almost white-knuckle grip on the phone. “And the second?”
“The first isn't finished, Sam!” Becky told him chidingly. “Dean and Castiel have found these-- well, I guess you could call them freedom fighters of a sort but that's only part of what they do. I mean, it's so totally cool and--”
“Becky.”
“Right, right, sorry. Long story short, they were rescued from some absolutely nasty baddies and then taken to this huge underground hideout called the Haven. There're a lot of good supernatural beings and angels there, including-- get this --Gabriel. He's like the Head Honcho of the entire operation, and they have a network of spies and satellite Havens for the people who can't fit in the main Haven.”
“So, Dean and Cas are okay, and they're with Gabriel. Wow. Um, okay. That's... Well, that's fantastic. What was the second 'totally awesome thing'?”
“Oh, right! I can't believe I almost forgot. You need to go to the Blue Moon Motel and Diner on U.S. Route Six. It's about a hundred miles north from where you're at. You should be able to get there in a couple of hours.”
“And what'll happen there?” Sam asked. When Becky replied, he could almost hear the grin in her voice.
“You'll find out when you get there. Goodbye, and good luck, Sam!”
With that, Becky hung up, leaving Sam to his own devices once more. Well, all right then. To the Blue Moon Motel and Diner it was.
---
The Blue Moon Motel and Diner was a well-kept collection of buildings near a truck stop off of Route Six. Sam pulled the Impala into a parking space, turned it off, and then went inside the diner. It was decorated like a classic 50's-style diner, complete with a clean-cut red-and-white color scheme. The diner was also entirely empty, save for a woman in a long dark blue coat sitting at the counter on one of the pedestal-style bar stools. She looked to be roughly Sam's own age, if not a few years younger. Sam took a seat at the counter a few stools away from the woman, who appeared to be working on a crossword puzzle in the newspaper she was reading. A waitress emerged from the kitchen, her bottle-blond hair held back in a loose ponytail.
“How can I help you, hon?” she asked Sam, grabbing a coffee mug and setting it down in front of him.
“Well, I'm not sure, to be honest. I think I may be supposed to be meeting someone here, but I'm not sure. Do the names Becky Rosen or Sam Winchester mean anything to you?”
The waitress thought it over for a minute and then shook her head. “No, sorry.”
Sam nodded. “It was worth a shot,” he muttered as the waitress poured coffee into his mug. “Thanks, anyways.”
“Sure thing. If you need anything, just holler. I'll be back in the kitchen.” The waitress topped up the other woman's coffee and then left, going back through the swinging door that led into the kitchen. Once the waitress was gone, Sam settled back and sipped at his coffee. It was actually pretty good, if not a little old. He drank his coffee in silence, staring off into space as he did so.
“So, I take it you're Sam Winchester, then?” a voice asked from his left. Sam turned at the sound to see the only other patron in the diner looking at him, her blue-gray eyes reminding the hunter of Castiel's almost, though they weren't as vibrant. She smiled at his instinctual look of distrust and shrugged.
“You don't look much like Becky,” she continued on. “I'm Lee, by the way; Lee Harper. I'm a friend of Becky's, if it helps any. She told me to come here and meet, and I quote, 'a gorgeous tall guy with great eyes and an even better ass. Oh, and his name's Sam'. I can't speak for the state of your ass, but you fit the rest of the description, as well as the fact that you know Becky. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.”
“No, no, I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you, I guess,” Sam said dazedly. “Do you know what's going on here?”
“Not really, but when Becky is reduced to incoherent babbling and the constant repetition of the word 'epic', I've learned that it's probably prudent to check out whatever has her excited, if nothing else to make sure she doesn't get hurt,” Lee said with an expression that spoke volumes about her experiences with Becky's enthusiasm.
“Yeah, the last few times we met, she was definitely a giant ball of energy,” Sam replied, laughing softly. “Did she say if she was going to be here?”
Lee shook her head. “No, but with Becky, it's usually more along the lines of 'when', not 'if'. I've already got a room rented-- she said this could take a while --so it might be prudent for you to do the same. Assuming, of course, that you don't just live nearby.”
“No, I don't. I take it you don't either?”
“Nope. Becky called me a couple days ago, told me that she needed me to come here as soon as I could,” Lee said after taking a sip of her coffee. “I'm based in Boise, but thankfully I'm self-employed, so I can take off some time if I need to. What about you?”
“Basically the same, but I'm out of Kansas,” Sam told her. Well, a half-lie was better than nothing. He sighed softly and then drained the last of his coffee. “I guess I might as well get a room like you said,” he continued on. “I could use a shower and some sleep anyways. See you later, I suppose.”
“See you.”
Sam put a few dollars on the counter for the coffee and then headed over to the motel lobby, which could be accessed via a short hallway at the back of the diner. There was a bored-looking man at the reception desk who barely looked at Sam as he took the credit card Sam handed him and then checked him in. Sam was handed a card-key for Room 17, which he took gratefully. The room was comfortably furnished with a single queen-sized bed, a small kitchenette, and an attached bathroom. Sam lost no time in getting his duffel bag from the trunk of the Impala and then getting into the shower, thankful for the chance to wash away the remnants of the day's battles.
Once he was clean, Sam put on some fresh clothes, laid salt lines at the threshold and windowsill, and then lay down on the bed, intending to only relax for a few minutes before exploring the motel a little more. His intentions were dashed, however, when he succumbed to slumber, the siren call of the soft mattress beneath him overpowering his will to stay awake.