Fic: The Road Goes Ever On and On 2/3
Sam stood ready as the demon approached. Slightly over a year ago, his misadventure in Cold Oak had brought him to this place, and as he thought about that time, he searched his mind for any information he’d heard then that could help him now. Ava had said that once she gave in, the switch had flipped like that. She could control demons. Jake had told him there was no limit to what they could do.
Andy had been able to control people’s actions. Sam’s hands tightened into fists, squeeze and release, tension radiating from him like a beacon. He knew what he wanted to try.
Get ready, it’s comin’.
Sam nodded tersely, squared his shoulders. He felt Dean close ranks with him, standing back to back as their eyes swept the empty room, seeing both planes at once.
The door of the warehouse opened softly, a small squeak the only noise to warn him. To his surprise, a young woman entered, striding confidently into the room. She stopped just before crossing the perimeter of the devils trap, concealed behind a row of casually placed discarded equipment. From the other side of the trap, Sam regarded her coldly.
“Sam Winchester,” the demon hissed, smiling through the face of the innocent girl in a leering gesture. “You think that just because you’re the one that got away, you can come and play in the big leagues?” She titled her head, shooting him a mocking look of sympathy.
Sam stared confidently from behind the shimmering wall of his cocoon. “What do you want?” He demanded. The black spot covering the innocent soul bubbled like tar, seething with barely contained hatred. He could sense the girl struggling to break free. Dean could sense it, too. Sam could tell by the rage and disgust crashing across his senses like a tidal wave.
The demon frowned. “You called me, remember? You sought me out. What’s the matter, Sammy? Looking to end it all?” The girl’s eyes went black as the demon smiled, its anticipation setting Sam’s senses on fire. “Can’t live without big brother around to tell you what to do?”
The temperature in the room fluctuated, dropping several degrees. Sam ignored the words. Easy, Dean. He warned, not wanting to tip their two-to-one advantage too soon. “No,” he said flatly, no trace of fear in his voice. “I called you here to tell you that the rules have changed.” The cocoon of power began expanding, moving towards the girl. Its tendrils reached for her mind, deep beyond the possessing demon, overriding its control of her.
Sam sent a command to her unconscious mind, and his tone left no room for argument. Come to me.
The girl flinched, struggling to follow Sam’s order. The demon inside of her recoiled. “What are you doing?” it gasped, fighting every step of the way as the body it possessed moved forward without its permission.
Hell yes. That’s my boy.
Sam grinned, focusing hard on the demon, dark satisfaction curling deep in his belly like warm drowsy wine. The girl was nearing the edge of the trap. Sam wrapped the sparkling cocoon around girl just as the demon made a break for it, trapping the black smoke inside as she stepped across the line. The demon howled with rage.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Sam asked pleasantly, gesturing to the single chair inside the middle of the trap. The demon glared at him, malice shining brightly from the cursed black eyes as it sat. “Oh,” Sam crooned. “If only looks could kill.” The smile faded from his lips and he entrapped the girl in his current, commanding her to stay. The girl’s body held totally still, but Sam could feel the demon writhing and twisting in vain inside her, trying to break free. Sam secured the girl, tying her wrists to the arms of the chair tightly. “Maybe then you’d have a fighting chance.” He said.
C’mon Sam, stop screwing around. Waste it already.
Sam took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Sam stepped to the outside of the trap and brought the power to bear. He surrounded the demon with it, forming a net on all sides, the bright shimmer of his power drowning the darkness of the demon, choking it, negating it.
The demon began to scream. It tried to shrink away from the current, but it was everywhere, closing in on it, covering it completely. Dean’s wild abandon surrounded Sam, his brother’s excitement lending him strength. All around the trap, the old pieces of warehouse equipment and spare parts began to rattle, and the shockwaves of Sam’s intent shook the foundations of the room.
“What do you want?” The demon screamed, struggling against the ropes in an effort to shield itself from the onslaught. “What do you want from me?”
Sam’s face was cold and his body still as he looked straight into the monster’s eyes. Mom. Jess. The well inside of him began to bubble and swell, building to a climax. Dad. His hatred sparked, and his power caught fire as he called on it to burn the demon alive. Dean. “All I want,” he ground out, “is for you to die.” With that final word, he released the full torrent of his rage.
Sam knew right away as he felt the dizzying rush of the transfer that he'd made a mistake. But he couldn't pull it back, the surge was too intense, and it committed him to finish the job. The demon screamed in agony, the sound like roaring wind and fire and sorrow all rolled into one as it flung itself against the borders of the devils trap, trying in vain to escape.
Sam felt the reserves of his inner core drain, levels of power depleting rapidly. He began to panic."Dean ... I can't ... Dean!" Everything flowed, from his mind, from his fingertips, from everywhere.
What's wrong? Sammy? Sam!
Sam's reserves ran out.
Sam gasped. His muscles seemed to liquefy with sudden exhaustion as the power began drawing on his own body's energy to sustain the flow. He collapsed limply to the ground. Black spots darkened the edges of his vision. Faintly he could feel Dean's sheer panic, sense the final scream of the demon as it was ripped to shreds, and then as the last ounce of strength left him, his eyes slowly closed and he fell deeply into dreamless sleep.
~*~
Slowly she realized that she could see again. She could move her own eyes and flex her own fingers, and even though she was tied to a chair, she somehow knew that the unconscious man on the floor outside the trap had just saved her life. "Hello?" She wondered how long it had been since she controlled her own voice, how long the monster inside her had been in charge of her actions. "Sir? Sir!" She remembered that the monster - the demon - had called the man Sammy.
He was pale and his face shone with sweat, and in the dim lighting she couldn't tell if he was breathing. "Oh, God, please ... Sam? Sam!!" She struggled against her bonds, but they were tight enough to bind the demon, and they were more than a match for her. Suddenly she saw - or thought she saw - a shimmer, a disturbance in the air behind Sam's still form, and her breath froze in her throat, and her first thought was no, please, it was dead, he killed it, and she couldn't help but scream. "Help! Somebody help us!" She doubled her efforts against the ropes, tearing her bruised wrists against the rough grain. A chill slid over her, painful cold seeping into every inch of her body, and she couldn't move anymore.
The vague shimmer flickered, and the faint outline of a man became visible, kneeling at the side of her fallen would-be rescuer. Dread twisted her stomach into knots. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was defiant. "Get away from him."
A low, keening wail pierced the room, currents of sorrow whipping through the air like wind, washing over her, taking her breath away. The flickering man on the floor next to Sam was ... afraid? Time seemed frozen as he reached out to touch Sam, everything inside of her wanted to scream at him to stop, to leave them alone, but when his insubstantial hand fell through Sam instead of contacting him, the ... ghost?... let loose another wail of sorrow, an almost feral growl of animal rage, and her heart went out to him, he sounded that lost.
He knelt there for long moments, shoulders rising and falling as he seemed to breathe, hand hovering over Sam's pale face, seemingly willing him to move, to be ok. After what felt like an eternity, Sam stirred. It was barely a motion, but the tense set of the almost - man's shoulders relaxed instantly.
He stood slowly and stepped towards her, pale form entering the light, and she saw him clearly for the first time. He was tall - not as tall as Sam - but he would still tower over her easily, and she could see that in his life he was attractive; well dressed, well built. But those observations took a quick backseat to the state of his appearance.
His jeans and jacket were torn into ragged, bloody strips, giant claw marks sunk deep into the skin of his chest, his arms, his left leg - everywhere. It was as if something had devoured him. His limbs stuck out at odd angles, and even though the deep wounds on his chest no longer bled, the red stain covered him completely where the blood had flowed from his throat; and from his heart.
He moved towards her smoothly, gliding rather than walking, and it was that more than anything that convinced her that he was really dead, because there was no way a live person could have walked on a leg that was twisted like that.
Terror rose up inside her, forming bile in the back of her throat, and her chest heaved with the effort of pulling in air as she tried to sink further into the old wooden chair. He was going to kill her, she knew it, and she was helpless to stop it from happening. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch anymore, just willing the nightmare to be over. She felt the cold, sliding presence draw closer, inching nearer to her with every passing second until he was right in her face, she knew he was, and she waited, but nothing happened. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Glittering green eyes radiating worry and sorrow stared back. Irrationally she wondered if he was looking into her soul. Despite the blood and gore, despite the wrong that had been done to him, looking into those eyes she'd never seen anything more beautiful. Or anything more tragic.
Somewhere she found her lost voice. "Who are you?" She whispered. "What do you want?" She had so many questions, but his nearness was taking her breath away, and her heart raced in her chest as his sorrow, his need washed over her in icy waves.
He offered her a sad smile. His form was becoming more translucent with each passing second, as though the energy it took to sustain it was failing him. He placed an index finger to his lips. Shhh. He pointed to her, then made a gesture with his fingers. You're ok. He held out both hands, palms facing her. Just wait.
Then with a shutter-flash of light and no sound at all, he vanished, just as if he had never been.
Part Three
Andy had been able to control people’s actions. Sam’s hands tightened into fists, squeeze and release, tension radiating from him like a beacon. He knew what he wanted to try.
Get ready, it’s comin’.
Sam nodded tersely, squared his shoulders. He felt Dean close ranks with him, standing back to back as their eyes swept the empty room, seeing both planes at once.
The door of the warehouse opened softly, a small squeak the only noise to warn him. To his surprise, a young woman entered, striding confidently into the room. She stopped just before crossing the perimeter of the devils trap, concealed behind a row of casually placed discarded equipment. From the other side of the trap, Sam regarded her coldly.
“Sam Winchester,” the demon hissed, smiling through the face of the innocent girl in a leering gesture. “You think that just because you’re the one that got away, you can come and play in the big leagues?” She titled her head, shooting him a mocking look of sympathy.
Sam stared confidently from behind the shimmering wall of his cocoon. “What do you want?” He demanded. The black spot covering the innocent soul bubbled like tar, seething with barely contained hatred. He could sense the girl struggling to break free. Dean could sense it, too. Sam could tell by the rage and disgust crashing across his senses like a tidal wave.
The demon frowned. “You called me, remember? You sought me out. What’s the matter, Sammy? Looking to end it all?” The girl’s eyes went black as the demon smiled, its anticipation setting Sam’s senses on fire. “Can’t live without big brother around to tell you what to do?”
The temperature in the room fluctuated, dropping several degrees. Sam ignored the words. Easy, Dean. He warned, not wanting to tip their two-to-one advantage too soon. “No,” he said flatly, no trace of fear in his voice. “I called you here to tell you that the rules have changed.” The cocoon of power began expanding, moving towards the girl. Its tendrils reached for her mind, deep beyond the possessing demon, overriding its control of her.
Sam sent a command to her unconscious mind, and his tone left no room for argument. Come to me.
The girl flinched, struggling to follow Sam’s order. The demon inside of her recoiled. “What are you doing?” it gasped, fighting every step of the way as the body it possessed moved forward without its permission.
Hell yes. That’s my boy.
Sam grinned, focusing hard on the demon, dark satisfaction curling deep in his belly like warm drowsy wine. The girl was nearing the edge of the trap. Sam wrapped the sparkling cocoon around girl just as the demon made a break for it, trapping the black smoke inside as she stepped across the line. The demon howled with rage.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Sam asked pleasantly, gesturing to the single chair inside the middle of the trap. The demon glared at him, malice shining brightly from the cursed black eyes as it sat. “Oh,” Sam crooned. “If only looks could kill.” The smile faded from his lips and he entrapped the girl in his current, commanding her to stay. The girl’s body held totally still, but Sam could feel the demon writhing and twisting in vain inside her, trying to break free. Sam secured the girl, tying her wrists to the arms of the chair tightly. “Maybe then you’d have a fighting chance.” He said.
C’mon Sam, stop screwing around. Waste it already.
Sam took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Sam stepped to the outside of the trap and brought the power to bear. He surrounded the demon with it, forming a net on all sides, the bright shimmer of his power drowning the darkness of the demon, choking it, negating it.
The demon began to scream. It tried to shrink away from the current, but it was everywhere, closing in on it, covering it completely. Dean’s wild abandon surrounded Sam, his brother’s excitement lending him strength. All around the trap, the old pieces of warehouse equipment and spare parts began to rattle, and the shockwaves of Sam’s intent shook the foundations of the room.
“What do you want?” The demon screamed, struggling against the ropes in an effort to shield itself from the onslaught. “What do you want from me?”
Sam’s face was cold and his body still as he looked straight into the monster’s eyes. Mom. Jess. The well inside of him began to bubble and swell, building to a climax. Dad. His hatred sparked, and his power caught fire as he called on it to burn the demon alive. Dean. “All I want,” he ground out, “is for you to die.” With that final word, he released the full torrent of his rage.
Sam knew right away as he felt the dizzying rush of the transfer that he'd made a mistake. But he couldn't pull it back, the surge was too intense, and it committed him to finish the job. The demon screamed in agony, the sound like roaring wind and fire and sorrow all rolled into one as it flung itself against the borders of the devils trap, trying in vain to escape.
Sam felt the reserves of his inner core drain, levels of power depleting rapidly. He began to panic."Dean ... I can't ... Dean!" Everything flowed, from his mind, from his fingertips, from everywhere.
What's wrong? Sammy? Sam!
Sam's reserves ran out.
Sam gasped. His muscles seemed to liquefy with sudden exhaustion as the power began drawing on his own body's energy to sustain the flow. He collapsed limply to the ground. Black spots darkened the edges of his vision. Faintly he could feel Dean's sheer panic, sense the final scream of the demon as it was ripped to shreds, and then as the last ounce of strength left him, his eyes slowly closed and he fell deeply into dreamless sleep.
~*~
Slowly she realized that she could see again. She could move her own eyes and flex her own fingers, and even though she was tied to a chair, she somehow knew that the unconscious man on the floor outside the trap had just saved her life. "Hello?" She wondered how long it had been since she controlled her own voice, how long the monster inside her had been in charge of her actions. "Sir? Sir!" She remembered that the monster - the demon - had called the man Sammy.
He was pale and his face shone with sweat, and in the dim lighting she couldn't tell if he was breathing. "Oh, God, please ... Sam? Sam!!" She struggled against her bonds, but they were tight enough to bind the demon, and they were more than a match for her. Suddenly she saw - or thought she saw - a shimmer, a disturbance in the air behind Sam's still form, and her breath froze in her throat, and her first thought was no, please, it was dead, he killed it, and she couldn't help but scream. "Help! Somebody help us!" She doubled her efforts against the ropes, tearing her bruised wrists against the rough grain. A chill slid over her, painful cold seeping into every inch of her body, and she couldn't move anymore.
The vague shimmer flickered, and the faint outline of a man became visible, kneeling at the side of her fallen would-be rescuer. Dread twisted her stomach into knots. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was defiant. "Get away from him."
A low, keening wail pierced the room, currents of sorrow whipping through the air like wind, washing over her, taking her breath away. The flickering man on the floor next to Sam was ... afraid? Time seemed frozen as he reached out to touch Sam, everything inside of her wanted to scream at him to stop, to leave them alone, but when his insubstantial hand fell through Sam instead of contacting him, the ... ghost?... let loose another wail of sorrow, an almost feral growl of animal rage, and her heart went out to him, he sounded that lost.
He knelt there for long moments, shoulders rising and falling as he seemed to breathe, hand hovering over Sam's pale face, seemingly willing him to move, to be ok. After what felt like an eternity, Sam stirred. It was barely a motion, but the tense set of the almost - man's shoulders relaxed instantly.
He stood slowly and stepped towards her, pale form entering the light, and she saw him clearly for the first time. He was tall - not as tall as Sam - but he would still tower over her easily, and she could see that in his life he was attractive; well dressed, well built. But those observations took a quick backseat to the state of his appearance.
His jeans and jacket were torn into ragged, bloody strips, giant claw marks sunk deep into the skin of his chest, his arms, his left leg - everywhere. It was as if something had devoured him. His limbs stuck out at odd angles, and even though the deep wounds on his chest no longer bled, the red stain covered him completely where the blood had flowed from his throat; and from his heart.
He moved towards her smoothly, gliding rather than walking, and it was that more than anything that convinced her that he was really dead, because there was no way a live person could have walked on a leg that was twisted like that.
Terror rose up inside her, forming bile in the back of her throat, and her chest heaved with the effort of pulling in air as she tried to sink further into the old wooden chair. He was going to kill her, she knew it, and she was helpless to stop it from happening. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch anymore, just willing the nightmare to be over. She felt the cold, sliding presence draw closer, inching nearer to her with every passing second until he was right in her face, she knew he was, and she waited, but nothing happened. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Glittering green eyes radiating worry and sorrow stared back. Irrationally she wondered if he was looking into her soul. Despite the blood and gore, despite the wrong that had been done to him, looking into those eyes she'd never seen anything more beautiful. Or anything more tragic.
Somewhere she found her lost voice. "Who are you?" She whispered. "What do you want?" She had so many questions, but his nearness was taking her breath away, and her heart raced in her chest as his sorrow, his need washed over her in icy waves.
He offered her a sad smile. His form was becoming more translucent with each passing second, as though the energy it took to sustain it was failing him. He placed an index finger to his lips. Shhh. He pointed to her, then made a gesture with his fingers. You're ok. He held out both hands, palms facing her. Just wait.
Then with a shutter-flash of light and no sound at all, he vanished, just as if he had never been.
Part Three