Fic: The Road Goes Ever On and On 1/3
Title: The Road Goes Ever On and On
Author: Tahirire
Characters: SamnDean
Rating: Pg -13
Category: Gen
Word Count: 5979
Spoilers: This verse picks up right at the end of 3.16.
Summary: Sam has Dean back, but not like he expected.
Beta: lotr_lemmy
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, genius, and to the CW, a bunch of morons.
Author's note: Part 2 of the Spirit 'verse. *you asked for it* First part is here. Titles for this 'verse from Tolkien.
The Road Goes Ever On and On
Sam’s first thought on waking in the morning was always the same. “Dean?”
Yeah, Sammy, I’m here.
Sam groaned and rolled out from underneath the covers. He stretched carefully, working out the knots in his back. The old twin beds in Bobby’s guest room had worked fine when they were kids, but at well over 6 feet tall, Sam didn’t exactly fit anymore. Ripples of amusement tickled the edges of his senses.
Sleep alright, Princess?
“Shut up. At least I sleep at all. What do you do?” Sam retorted. Dean didn’t respond, and Sam felt guilty instantly. Dean was right there, right in the room with him, he could feel him as clearly as if he could see him with his own eyes, and as sarcastic as Dean was, sometimes his brain forgot what his heart didn’t want to think about; Dean, bleeding out on the floor in New Harmony, Indiana. His brother’s screams mingling with his own as the hellhounds ripped him to shreds. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I don’t mean that.” The slight feeling of hurt dissipated at once.
It’s ok, Sam. You’re still allowed to be a cranky bitch in the morning if it makes you feel better.
Sam laughed, relieved. “Well, pardon me if having a jerk of a ghost as a brother isn’t something I want to ever get used to.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to sort out the worst of the knots. He could smell coffee brewing downstairs, and his stomach rumbled in response. A strong sense of support flowed through him; Dean agreed.
Wouldn’t want you to, Sammy.
Sam stood. Dean was one more day gone, and he was still no closer to figuring out how to bring him back. It was unacceptable. Time to get to work. “You gonna check the property?” he asked. Dean had taken to roaming Bobby’s land, flexing his slowly growing powers and making sure that Sam was safe. Sam didn’t want him to go, but there was no reason to argue. Memories of hunts of days past, of ghosts - slipped silently through his thoughts, whispered to him of the nightmare of eternal, drifting life.
Dean needed to have something to focus on. If he didn’t, Sam was worried what may become of his brother’s sanity.
Yeah.
“Don’t take long. I’ve got plans for us today.” Sam could feel Dean’s intense curiosity, but instead of asking questions, his brother withdrew smoothly, his presence fading from Sam’s mind the way the last rays of sunset snuck into nightfall. Sam gritted his teeth against the sudden onslaught of emotions. “Right, plans.” He whispered. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he headed down to breakfast.
~*~
It had become obvious to Sam pretty quickly that if he was going to keep working with Bobby to bring Dean back, he was going to have to tell the man the truth.
For one thing, Sam was pretty sure that Bobby thought he'd lost his mind.
"Damn, stupid ..." Bobby shook his cell phone roughly, as if the signal would come back if he threatened it enough.
Sam watched from the doorway, feeling the emptiness inside him fill again. Dean was back. Sam wondered if Bobby had also noted the slight dimming of the lights, the faltering of the radio. This kind of thing had been slowly becoming more and more common in the last few days. On the one hand, Sam was glad, because it meant that Dean was getting stronger. On the other hand ... Dean, knock it off. He's gonna hunt your ass.
It's the EMF, I can't control it.
Sam bit his lip. Bobby's back was turned and he was wresting his SIM card from the phone's iron grip, reseating it to see if that would fix the problem. We have to tell him.
Sam, I said no.
We have to, Dean! It's not fair. He thinks you're in Hell! Sam almost thought he felt a sigh, the air in the room fluctuating, ripples of regret and guilt tainting the soothing presence.
I know, and I'm sorry. Please, just wait a little longer. Just wait until we have a plan.
Suddenly Sam realized that Bobby had gone very still. His newfound senses could practically feel the older man's thoughts working overtime. Sam stepped into the room. Fine. But we can't stay here. Time for a distraction. "Hey Bobby, got a minute?"
Bobby tossed one last glare towards the cell phone, muttering something under his breath before turning to regard Sam. "Sure, what's on your mind?"
"I think it's time I headed out for a while, got some space." Sam held out his hands defensively, sensing the protest form on Bobby's lips. "I found a job, nothing too tough, just a spirit - shouldn't take me long to handle it, and I just ...” Sam sighed, not wanting to lie, but not really wanting to throw too much truth into the mix, either. "I need to get back into it, clear my head a little, you know?"
From the way Bobby was staring at him Sam knew he wasn't convinced for a second. Brief signs of an intense internal struggle flashed across Bobby's eyes. "Well," he said slowly, "I won't stop ya, but I'll be here, if you need anything - any help, you call me, got it?" Bobby shot a glare towards the useless piece of technology in his hand. "Well - get a hold of me somehow, anyway."
Sam smiled, nodding gratefully. "I got it, Bobby. Thanks."
It only took a few moments for Sam to gather his things. He'd been working on a plan of his own, and he hadn't discussed it with anyone just yet, but it was time to put it into action. Dean wouldn't like it, but Dean had been dead for almost a week, and Sam didn't like to think about that, and he wasn't willing to wait any longer for a solution. Sam swung his duffel heavily over his shoulder, scanning the room one last time to see if he had left anything behind.
You want to tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?
"On the road," Sam whispered back.
Ruby had said that he could wipe Lilith off the map without moving a muscle. She'd thought 30 hours was enough time to learn how. Sam's passive power of sensing people’s emotions and his telepathic connection with Dean had been easy to master. Learning to use a destructive power would be much different.
Somehow he had to get in some practice.
~*~
Of course Dean objected immediately.
No way Darth Vader, it's too dangerous.
"Look," Sam said, staring hard towards the empty passenger seat, hoping he was looking Dean in the eyes as he geared up for a fight. "We've both hunted alone before. I think I can handle trapping one demon."
What if you can't figure out how to kill it?
Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Then I'll exorcise it." Sam could feel Dean's hesitation. "Look - I know it's not the safest idea, and yes we still have the knife, I just need to make sure that the next time will be the last time, alright?" Sam sighed. "I just ... I want you back, man. And I can't make it happen unless Lilith is dead. Please. You've gotta go with me on this one." It was true, and Sam couldn’t hide the pleading tone in his voice. He wanted Dean back more than anything.
There was a long pause, and Sam knew Dean was turning things over in his mind, knew the look he would have had on his face.
How are you even going to find one?
Sam smiled, relieved. "I have an idea."
~*~
"Dean, stop. I need to concentrate" Undulating sensations of concern and fear rolled through Sam, raising goose bumps on his forearms and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. "I'll be fine. It's me, I can handle it."
But I don't want -
"Dean, I'm not going anywhere man, please, just give me some space." Slowly Sam felt the precious warmth retreat from the room, and cold filled up the hollow space left behind. He suppressed a shiver. Every time Dean left, it was like losing him all over again. "Pull yourself together, Sam," he muttered. "This is how you get him back."
Sam settled down onto the motel bed, legs crossed Indian style, hands resting loosely in his lap. Reaching inward, he felt the power's current, bubbling in a reservoir deep inside him, settled firmly in his core, just out of his mental reach. It flowed forward so easily to Dean, it drew him close, binding them together - but to thrust it towards a stranger, or worse - a demon - was like exposing his jugular, and Sam didn't know if he could do it.
Sam grasped the power and pulled it forward gently, feathering it outwards softly in all directions. The room he’d booked was in a busy city; people were everywhere. He could sense them all. If he focused on them specifically, he could feel their emotions. If he concentrated very hard, he could hear snippets of their thoughts. He hated being so invasive, it made him feel uneasy. He’d always been able to read people well enough without invading their basest privacies.
Except for when his Dad had been possessed. Except for when he hadn’t recognized Lilith. Except for the two times it had cost him his father and his brother.
Sam pushed harder, determined to make this work. His days of caring that he was different were over. If he didn’t embrace this now, he’d never master it. Dean was counting on him, and Dean was all that mattered. The power began to flow smoothly, brushing every person as it passed, fanning through the multitude of humanity.
Sam closed his eyes, visualized what he was ‘seeing’. The humans showed in his second sight as pure lights, hovering over the worldly plane like fireflies. The animal life seemed tinged with green and blue tones, the constant movement of ecology dizzying in its ebb and flow.
He had not been searching long before he felt it. It was a wound, a stain in the fabric of life; a black hole. It felt strongly of death and decay, of violence and murder. Underneath the stain, a weakened human soul struggled to survive, its bright light dampened by possession.
He had found a demon.
Sam withdrew the power from the rest of the city, focused it all on the dark spot in his inner sight. He sharpened the feather touch to a razor’s edge, readied the blow, and shoved the demon roughly. The demon flinched, whirling about to seek the power’s source. Sam held it steady, taunting it, letting it taste his power.
Flashes, images of the intended meeting ground leapt from Sam’s mind, imprinting into the demon’s awareness. Sam was baiting the hook, taunting his prey.
Psychic or no psychic, Sam was a hunter first. He could read this demon, he could predict what it would do. He knew it would want all the credit for finding him for itself.
In his mind’s eye, the demon’s feral eyes widened in surprise as it realized who he was. Winchester, it hissed, the word dripping venom and wild abandon. The demon knew him, knew that its leader wanted him dead. He could taste its ambition, feel its lust for power. For the demon that killed Sam, the reward would be unimaginable. The black spot shifted in his radar, and he felt the demon’s own power begin to track him, to try to locate him.
The demon had taken the bait.
Sam smiled fiercely. “Come and get me, then.”
~*~
Dude. It's like demonic Marco Polo.
“Shh, I’m concentrating.” Sam replied, steering the Impala closer towards his target. The demon was tracking him, but they were playing by his rules. Every few minutes Sam would shut the power down, retreating into the safety of his cocoon where the demon couldn’t sense him anymore. He’d drive a few miles, then send out his feelers again. The demon was drawing closer, triangulating his location.
You’re sure you hid the trap good enough, right?
“Yes, shut up, this isn’t as easy as I make it look.” Sam pulled into a parking space behind an old empty warehouse. It was hard enough visualizing two planes at once - while driving no less - without the feel of Dean’s infectious worry niggling the back of his mind like nails on a chalkboard. He killed the engine and took a deep breath. “Warn me when it gets here, alright?” He stepped out of the car and headed for the side entrance.
Roger that. Now maintaining radio silence.
“Very funny.”
That’s not very radio silent.
Sam rolled his eyes. Fine, is this better?
Yep.
The casually playful feeling receded, replaced by a much more serious tone.
Sammy, be careful.
Sam nodded, nerves stretched tight. He could feel the demon drawing closer, taking the bait. It was almost time. You, too.
Sam stepped into the empty warehouse, cast one final look around at the set up. Everything was ready. Sam sent out a burst of energy, flooding the room with it, broadcasting his presence far and wide.
He felt the demon shift direction instantly. He smiled.
“Marco.”
part two
Author: Tahirire
Characters: SamnDean
Rating: Pg -13
Category: Gen
Word Count: 5979
Spoilers: This verse picks up right at the end of 3.16.
Summary: Sam has Dean back, but not like he expected.
Beta: lotr_lemmy
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, genius, and to the CW, a bunch of morons.
Author's note: Part 2 of the Spirit 'verse. *you asked for it* First part is here. Titles for this 'verse from Tolkien.
The Road Goes Ever On and On
Sam’s first thought on waking in the morning was always the same. “Dean?”
Yeah, Sammy, I’m here.
Sam groaned and rolled out from underneath the covers. He stretched carefully, working out the knots in his back. The old twin beds in Bobby’s guest room had worked fine when they were kids, but at well over 6 feet tall, Sam didn’t exactly fit anymore. Ripples of amusement tickled the edges of his senses.
Sleep alright, Princess?
“Shut up. At least I sleep at all. What do you do?” Sam retorted. Dean didn’t respond, and Sam felt guilty instantly. Dean was right there, right in the room with him, he could feel him as clearly as if he could see him with his own eyes, and as sarcastic as Dean was, sometimes his brain forgot what his heart didn’t want to think about; Dean, bleeding out on the floor in New Harmony, Indiana. His brother’s screams mingling with his own as the hellhounds ripped him to shreds. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I don’t mean that.” The slight feeling of hurt dissipated at once.
It’s ok, Sam. You’re still allowed to be a cranky bitch in the morning if it makes you feel better.
Sam laughed, relieved. “Well, pardon me if having a jerk of a ghost as a brother isn’t something I want to ever get used to.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to sort out the worst of the knots. He could smell coffee brewing downstairs, and his stomach rumbled in response. A strong sense of support flowed through him; Dean agreed.
Wouldn’t want you to, Sammy.
Sam stood. Dean was one more day gone, and he was still no closer to figuring out how to bring him back. It was unacceptable. Time to get to work. “You gonna check the property?” he asked. Dean had taken to roaming Bobby’s land, flexing his slowly growing powers and making sure that Sam was safe. Sam didn’t want him to go, but there was no reason to argue. Memories of hunts of days past, of ghosts - slipped silently through his thoughts, whispered to him of the nightmare of eternal, drifting life.
Dean needed to have something to focus on. If he didn’t, Sam was worried what may become of his brother’s sanity.
Yeah.
“Don’t take long. I’ve got plans for us today.” Sam could feel Dean’s intense curiosity, but instead of asking questions, his brother withdrew smoothly, his presence fading from Sam’s mind the way the last rays of sunset snuck into nightfall. Sam gritted his teeth against the sudden onslaught of emotions. “Right, plans.” He whispered. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he headed down to breakfast.
~*~
It had become obvious to Sam pretty quickly that if he was going to keep working with Bobby to bring Dean back, he was going to have to tell the man the truth.
For one thing, Sam was pretty sure that Bobby thought he'd lost his mind.
"Damn, stupid ..." Bobby shook his cell phone roughly, as if the signal would come back if he threatened it enough.
Sam watched from the doorway, feeling the emptiness inside him fill again. Dean was back. Sam wondered if Bobby had also noted the slight dimming of the lights, the faltering of the radio. This kind of thing had been slowly becoming more and more common in the last few days. On the one hand, Sam was glad, because it meant that Dean was getting stronger. On the other hand ... Dean, knock it off. He's gonna hunt your ass.
It's the EMF, I can't control it.
Sam bit his lip. Bobby's back was turned and he was wresting his SIM card from the phone's iron grip, reseating it to see if that would fix the problem. We have to tell him.
Sam, I said no.
We have to, Dean! It's not fair. He thinks you're in Hell! Sam almost thought he felt a sigh, the air in the room fluctuating, ripples of regret and guilt tainting the soothing presence.
I know, and I'm sorry. Please, just wait a little longer. Just wait until we have a plan.
Suddenly Sam realized that Bobby had gone very still. His newfound senses could practically feel the older man's thoughts working overtime. Sam stepped into the room. Fine. But we can't stay here. Time for a distraction. "Hey Bobby, got a minute?"
Bobby tossed one last glare towards the cell phone, muttering something under his breath before turning to regard Sam. "Sure, what's on your mind?"
"I think it's time I headed out for a while, got some space." Sam held out his hands defensively, sensing the protest form on Bobby's lips. "I found a job, nothing too tough, just a spirit - shouldn't take me long to handle it, and I just ...” Sam sighed, not wanting to lie, but not really wanting to throw too much truth into the mix, either. "I need to get back into it, clear my head a little, you know?"
From the way Bobby was staring at him Sam knew he wasn't convinced for a second. Brief signs of an intense internal struggle flashed across Bobby's eyes. "Well," he said slowly, "I won't stop ya, but I'll be here, if you need anything - any help, you call me, got it?" Bobby shot a glare towards the useless piece of technology in his hand. "Well - get a hold of me somehow, anyway."
Sam smiled, nodding gratefully. "I got it, Bobby. Thanks."
It only took a few moments for Sam to gather his things. He'd been working on a plan of his own, and he hadn't discussed it with anyone just yet, but it was time to put it into action. Dean wouldn't like it, but Dean had been dead for almost a week, and Sam didn't like to think about that, and he wasn't willing to wait any longer for a solution. Sam swung his duffel heavily over his shoulder, scanning the room one last time to see if he had left anything behind.
You want to tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?
"On the road," Sam whispered back.
Ruby had said that he could wipe Lilith off the map without moving a muscle. She'd thought 30 hours was enough time to learn how. Sam's passive power of sensing people’s emotions and his telepathic connection with Dean had been easy to master. Learning to use a destructive power would be much different.
Somehow he had to get in some practice.
~*~
Of course Dean objected immediately.
No way Darth Vader, it's too dangerous.
"Look," Sam said, staring hard towards the empty passenger seat, hoping he was looking Dean in the eyes as he geared up for a fight. "We've both hunted alone before. I think I can handle trapping one demon."
What if you can't figure out how to kill it?
Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Then I'll exorcise it." Sam could feel Dean's hesitation. "Look - I know it's not the safest idea, and yes we still have the knife, I just need to make sure that the next time will be the last time, alright?" Sam sighed. "I just ... I want you back, man. And I can't make it happen unless Lilith is dead. Please. You've gotta go with me on this one." It was true, and Sam couldn’t hide the pleading tone in his voice. He wanted Dean back more than anything.
There was a long pause, and Sam knew Dean was turning things over in his mind, knew the look he would have had on his face.
How are you even going to find one?
Sam smiled, relieved. "I have an idea."
~*~
"Dean, stop. I need to concentrate" Undulating sensations of concern and fear rolled through Sam, raising goose bumps on his forearms and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. "I'll be fine. It's me, I can handle it."
But I don't want -
"Dean, I'm not going anywhere man, please, just give me some space." Slowly Sam felt the precious warmth retreat from the room, and cold filled up the hollow space left behind. He suppressed a shiver. Every time Dean left, it was like losing him all over again. "Pull yourself together, Sam," he muttered. "This is how you get him back."
Sam settled down onto the motel bed, legs crossed Indian style, hands resting loosely in his lap. Reaching inward, he felt the power's current, bubbling in a reservoir deep inside him, settled firmly in his core, just out of his mental reach. It flowed forward so easily to Dean, it drew him close, binding them together - but to thrust it towards a stranger, or worse - a demon - was like exposing his jugular, and Sam didn't know if he could do it.
Sam grasped the power and pulled it forward gently, feathering it outwards softly in all directions. The room he’d booked was in a busy city; people were everywhere. He could sense them all. If he focused on them specifically, he could feel their emotions. If he concentrated very hard, he could hear snippets of their thoughts. He hated being so invasive, it made him feel uneasy. He’d always been able to read people well enough without invading their basest privacies.
Except for when his Dad had been possessed. Except for when he hadn’t recognized Lilith. Except for the two times it had cost him his father and his brother.
Sam pushed harder, determined to make this work. His days of caring that he was different were over. If he didn’t embrace this now, he’d never master it. Dean was counting on him, and Dean was all that mattered. The power began to flow smoothly, brushing every person as it passed, fanning through the multitude of humanity.
Sam closed his eyes, visualized what he was ‘seeing’. The humans showed in his second sight as pure lights, hovering over the worldly plane like fireflies. The animal life seemed tinged with green and blue tones, the constant movement of ecology dizzying in its ebb and flow.
He had not been searching long before he felt it. It was a wound, a stain in the fabric of life; a black hole. It felt strongly of death and decay, of violence and murder. Underneath the stain, a weakened human soul struggled to survive, its bright light dampened by possession.
He had found a demon.
Sam withdrew the power from the rest of the city, focused it all on the dark spot in his inner sight. He sharpened the feather touch to a razor’s edge, readied the blow, and shoved the demon roughly. The demon flinched, whirling about to seek the power’s source. Sam held it steady, taunting it, letting it taste his power.
Flashes, images of the intended meeting ground leapt from Sam’s mind, imprinting into the demon’s awareness. Sam was baiting the hook, taunting his prey.
Psychic or no psychic, Sam was a hunter first. He could read this demon, he could predict what it would do. He knew it would want all the credit for finding him for itself.
In his mind’s eye, the demon’s feral eyes widened in surprise as it realized who he was. Winchester, it hissed, the word dripping venom and wild abandon. The demon knew him, knew that its leader wanted him dead. He could taste its ambition, feel its lust for power. For the demon that killed Sam, the reward would be unimaginable. The black spot shifted in his radar, and he felt the demon’s own power begin to track him, to try to locate him.
The demon had taken the bait.
Sam smiled fiercely. “Come and get me, then.”
~*~
Dude. It's like demonic Marco Polo.
“Shh, I’m concentrating.” Sam replied, steering the Impala closer towards his target. The demon was tracking him, but they were playing by his rules. Every few minutes Sam would shut the power down, retreating into the safety of his cocoon where the demon couldn’t sense him anymore. He’d drive a few miles, then send out his feelers again. The demon was drawing closer, triangulating his location.
You’re sure you hid the trap good enough, right?
“Yes, shut up, this isn’t as easy as I make it look.” Sam pulled into a parking space behind an old empty warehouse. It was hard enough visualizing two planes at once - while driving no less - without the feel of Dean’s infectious worry niggling the back of his mind like nails on a chalkboard. He killed the engine and took a deep breath. “Warn me when it gets here, alright?” He stepped out of the car and headed for the side entrance.
Roger that. Now maintaining radio silence.
“Very funny.”
That’s not very radio silent.
Sam rolled his eyes. Fine, is this better?
Yep.
The casually playful feeling receded, replaced by a much more serious tone.
Sammy, be careful.
Sam nodded, nerves stretched tight. He could feel the demon drawing closer, taking the bait. It was almost time. You, too.
Sam stepped into the empty warehouse, cast one final look around at the set up. Everything was ready. Sam sent out a burst of energy, flooding the room with it, broadcasting his presence far and wide.
He felt the demon shift direction instantly. He smiled.
“Marco.”
part two