A/N: I haven't written a fanfic one-shot for a while, so when I ended up doing Number 42 of the 100 Theme Challenge, I decided to have a glance around my one-shots on here and see if there was anything that would inspire me for 'Standing Still'. I glanced over 'Stripes' and decided to use that character again, so I'd suggest checking out 'Stripes' before reading this one. This is set after the latest episode.
Her hands trembled, sweat dripped from her brow. She stared at the figure before her in disbelief, as her hand remained clutched around a pistol, designed for the situation she found herself in now.
Her cousin turned his head towards her, his eyes wide and pleading.
"Sarah," he gasped out. "Do it. Please..."
Where the bloody hell was everyone?
"I can't!" she snapped, tears threatening to break from her eyes and roll down her face. Still, her body trembled, shook. Even if she wanted to, there was no way she could aim...
"You have to!" he cried, glancing out the window at the dying sun. "Before the moon rises..."
"No." Fiercely, she shook her head. "No! Not after...after everything..."
Memories flooded back to her, memories of the family, of her cousins, and Damon in particular. How could she do it? How could she shoot her own flesh and blood?
His eyes flashed, glancing over her shoulder, and he nodded, weak but sure.
A shot rang out and Sarah cried out, falling to her knees, the fully loaded pistol clattering to the ground beside her. Sobs broke from her, hands reaching up to cover her face, not wanting to look at whoever it was who had the guts to do what she couldn't.
"Come on."
She knew the deep voice, the voice of a man she'd met a long time ago, the voice that betrayed so much. A hand fell on her shoulder, but still she didn't want to look at him.
"You need a drink, Stripes."
Sarah's hand didn't stop shaking. The American hunter moved around the kitchen, darting in and out of her view. Slowly, she lifted her eyes, fixing them on him.
"We thought you were dead," she admitted. "Or out of the game. I...I knew your brother was still around..."
Dean shot her a look that plainly asked her to shut up. She fell silent, eyes dropping to the drink he placed in front of her, before he sat down opposite.
"I can't believe I'm in Bobby Singer's kitchen," she chuckled, though her voice shook. "I mean, he's...he's a legend, isn't he? Where is he?"
"Downstairs," Dean mumbled. "With my brother. Sam is...recovering, from something pretty bad. Why didn't you go back home?"
"There are enough hunters there," she replied, voice quiet. "I thought I'd stick around for a while, help out the family over here. Not that we see each other much."
Dean nodded, slowly, carefully. "That guy, the one who'd been attacked by a werewolf..."
"My cousin." She closed her eyes, and found herself facing the mental image of him begging with her, pleading with her to shoot him. "Damon. He was a good hunter, Dean. And I couldn't save him."
"Were you tracking the wolf?"
"Yes," she nodded. "We killed it. Well, Damon did. I got...stuck. Trapped, when we cornered it. I didn't even know he'd been bit until yesterday."
Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair before fixing his gaze on the girl. "It doesn't make you a bad hunter."
She scoffed. "I'm a pretty shit hunter if I can't shoot a werewolf when they're asking me to do it."
"Then I must be the worst hunter of them all."
Sarah frowned, raising an eyebrow as she stared at him. For the first time, she realised how fragile Dean Winchester really was. She was used to the look in his eyes, the same look every hunter carried. The windows to the soul, she'd heard them called, and for hunters they betrayed all the horror, the blood, the death they had seen. Look into a hunter's eyes for too long and you found yourself swimming in darkness. They betrayed the awareness of everything evil out there; the things that lurked under the bed, the monsters that invaded your dreams, demons and werewolves and vampires, oh my!
"What do you mean?"
"You must have heard about Sam," Dean sighed. "When...before, he had demon blood in him. He was close to turning into a full blown monster and I did nothing about it. And, well, let's just say it's something similar he's recovering from now."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to resist the instinctive movement. Her hand reached out, resting over his, and squeezing gently. "I'm sorry, Dean."
"What for?" he scoffed. "Not your fault, Stripes."
Sarah took a deep breath, tilting her head back and staring at the ceiling. The flakes of paint were peeling, the light bulb flickered. This house, she thought, could do with some TLC. It was falling apart around them and she didn't understand how Bobby Singer managed to live in a place like this.
Then again, at least he had somewhere to call home.
Sarah couldn't help but jump slightly when she heard something outside the kitchen door. Moments later it opened, and in stepped a man who she knew could only be the legendary Bobby. He glanced at her, before nodding curtly and walking towards the sink, running the cold tap.
"How is he?" Dean asked, and Sarah couldn't help but detect the slight pang in his voice.
"He's doing all right," Bobby sighed, holding a glass under the water. "He'll be fine, Dean. This the girl you told me about?"
"Yeah, Bobby, meet Sarah. She's from...England, right?"
"Wales," she muttered under her breath, before turning to Bobby. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Singer."
"Wales, huh?" He nodded, slowly. "Bet you know a lot of Celtic lore."
"Tons." Shakily, she found herself grinning. "I've actually been to the Otherworld. Believe it or not, the entrance is..."
"Would love to hear it, kid," Bobby grumbled, "but I've got a patient to look after. If you're sticking around, though, I wouldn't mind talking to you about it."
"Sure."
With that, Bobby left the room. Sarah turned back to Dean.
"The Otherworld?"
"Yeah, it's like this weird, different realm that's sort of joined onto ours. A lot of crazy shit goes on in there."
"Yeah?" he chuckled. "More crazy than having angels and demons fighting over whether or not to release the apocalypse, with you stuck in the middle as they try to make an angel take over your body?"
Sarah found herself staring at him in shock, blinking rapidly.
"Sorry." Dean waved a hand through the air. "So, tell me about this Otherworld then..."
Sarah was in the middle of a detailed account of a banquet held in her family's honour in the Otherworld, when Dean's phone rang. She paused, watching as his head reached, quickly, into his pocket and he answered.
"Yeah?"
He fell silent, listening to the caller. Eventually, he muttered "right, I'll get on it" and hung up. With a sigh, he glanced at Sarah. "Sorry, Stripes, apparently we've got a demon two towns over that's determined to cause havoc. I'm going to have to go."
"Wait," Sarah gasped, as he stood up. "Please, Dean, let me go with you?"
He frowned, shook his head. "I don't know..."
"C'mon, Dean," she begged. "It'll get my mind off Damon, and your brother is...well, he won't be going with you, will he?"
"Fine, fine," he grumbled. "But you listen to everything I say, follow my orders, understand?"
"Yes, sir!" she cried, hand snapping up to her head in a salute. He rolled his eyes before grabbing the set of car keys off a counter. She leapt up, grinning as she followed him, imagining her uncle's reaction when she told him she'd worked with one of the Winchesters.
Sarah remained crouched in the corner of the room, her heart beat ringing in her ear as Dean stood at the opposite end, his eyes fixed on the door she was crouched behind.
It had been two days since they'd left the home of Bobby Singer, and they had finally managed to track down the demon, a few towns away from where Dean had originally been told it was. In her hand, Sarah clutched a book, an odd weapon, but it contained in it the Latin words to exorcise the demon. Her eyes locked onto Dean, who remained still, leant against the wall with his arms crossed. The demon wasn't intelligent, not overly so, anyway. From what they had seen, it was a bumbling underling that didn't really know what it was doing.
"First time up here," Sarah had muttered, earlier that day. "It seems...confused, Dean."
Dean had agreed with her; the demon's natural instincts were to cause havoc, to kill, but in reality it just seemed like it was lost. First time away from home with no clue what it was doing.
It had taken over the body of a young teenage girl, about fifteen years old, and maybe it was its appearance that made Sarah feel, unusually, sorry for the demon.
"Dean Winchester."
The high pitched girly voice came from just behind the door, and Sarah found her hand gripping even tighter onto the book.
"Well, well, well, they've brought out the big guns for me, haven't they?"
Dean's body remained still, although he did lift his head, staring straight ahead. "You're out of your depth," he replied, voice low. "You should go back before you get hurt."
"Aw, but it's fun up here!" she whined. "Anyway, I heard daddy had lots and lots of fun with your brother's soul down in the pit – shame you took away his favourite toy."
Sarah's eyes snapped to Dean. His skin went pale; the blood disappearing from his face like a vampire was sucking it up from his neck. Sarah resisted a gasp. During the time that Dean had been M.I.A, she'd heard that Sam Winchester had come into his own as a hunter. Across the country, he was revered; he dealt with monsters and demons quickly and swiftly, without mercy. He'd been a hunter to fear and admire.
What did the demon mean, she wondered, by his soul being in a pit?
"Lucifer can go to hell," Dean hissed. "Oh, wait, he's already there."
The demon laughed, stepping forward. "Oh, yes, he is Dean, and he's biding his time, you know. He's waiting. He'll rise again and together, we'll tear apart this world limb from limb."
"Didn't you get the memo?" Dean snapped back. "Daddy isn't coming back, ever. And I'm going to make sure of it."
The demon took another step forward, giggling now. Sarah felt her blood freeze as the demon stepped onto the rug and Dean yelled "Now!"
Quickly, Sarah reached forward and yanked the rug towards her. The demon fell forward, landing right in the middle of the trap.
It hadn't taken the pair long to draw the Devil's Trap; now, the white chalk shone up, catching the light and causing the demon to gasp.
"It's a Devil's Trap," Dean explained, as the demon tried to move. "It means you're trapped."
Her head snapped upwards, her eyes glaring at Dean as Sarah stood up. "Let me go!" she cried. "I...I...I promise I won't hurt you please just let me go!"
"Sarah," Dean muttered, eyes flicking to the Welsh girl.
She nodded, hands shaking, as she started to read.
"Please!" the demon cried, whirling around to face Sarah. "Please I promise I'll be good! Don't send me back there! I can't go back I'll..." she paused, studying Sarah intently as the girl continued to read. Suddenly, screams of pain ripped through the demon, and she fell to her knees, head thrown back as black tears fell from her eyes. Sarah froze, lifting her eyes from the book and staring at the demon. The fifteen year old body fell forward, body heaving, before she glanced up and looked at Sarah. "I can get your cousin back."
The book clattered to the floor.
"Stripes!" Dean barked, darting around the circle and grabbing the book. He continued to read and Sarah, finding herself unable to move, simply stood there, watching as the girl began to cry and scream again, until finally a black plume of smoke rose from her mouth and disappeared.
Dean shoved the book back into Sarah's hand and angrily scooped up the unconscious body of the girl, carrying her out of the room and leaving Sarah, standing, staring at the white chalk Devil's Trap.
In the car, Sarah couldn't stop shaking.
"They lie, Stripes," he hissed, eyes fixed on the road. "Every hunter worth their freaking salt knows that!"
"I know," she whispered, ignoring the music blaring from the radio. "I know, Dean."
"Then why did you do it?" he cried, hands trembling on the steering wheel. "Why the hell did you freeze?"
"I don't know."
He pulled the car over, letting out a sigh as he ran his hands over his face, groaning as he did so. "Look, Sarah, you're a sweet kid and from what I saw before, you're not a bad hunter. But, seriously, you might want to step out of the game for a while."
She turned away from him, staring out of the window, unable to stop the tears that began to fill her eyes.
"With that happened with your cousin, and what happened back there...a hunter can't just stand still, Sarah."
She nodded, slowly, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to sink back into the chair, the sight of her cousin rising up in her mind's eye, begging her, pleading with her...
"Maybe you're right," she sighed, eventually. "Maybe I do need a break."
Dean took a deep breath, and she opened her eyes to see him staring at her. "Look, take a break – do some sightseeing or whatever it is you English..."
"Welsh."
"Right, you Welsh do when you're over here and, when you're done, give me a call, all right? Actually," he fished in the glove compartment, taking out a scrap of paper and a pen, jotting a number down on it. He pushed it into her hands. "Anytime you need to talk, give me a call. Or Bobby. I'll get his number for you. I'm shit at working with new people but I know why you couldn't shoot Damon, and I know how tempting the lure of a demon's deal is and, Sarah, promise me something?"
"What?"
"Don't do something stupid."
"Like what?"
He started to drive again, shaking his head. "Like making a deal with a crossroads demon. Trust me – they always backfire."