A/N: Part of the Summer of Sam Love Fic Exchange. This story is written for RedLotusOasis. I had a lot of fun taking part in this exchange. The prompt was fun and I couldn't have done this story without the help from my betas, AnickaMarie & Geminigrl11. To them I humbly thank over and over again for their wonderful and speedy work. And another big thanks to Tanpopo for her fantastic artwork for this story of which you can view by going to LJ and going onto the community Summer of Sam Love and looking for the first chapter of this story Amber Woods. Enjoy guys!
A/N #2: Preseries: There is some swearing, but nothing that hasn't been seen or heard from on the show.
He was going to die.
Even with this creature pinning him to the floor - his own blood pooling on the floor beside him, with calloused hands wrapped tightly around his neck, air suddenly impossible to breathe in - Sam felt oddly detached. Like a balloon that had all the air let out of it. He was existing – just. And as the edges of black in his vision began to spread, he knew that his father and brother would find his body when they eventually broke through the mortar that separated them.
He pawed uselessly at the hands that gripped him tightly, body bucking against the weight that settled against his chest, all the while staring into murderous dark eyes that bore into him like liquid steel.
A grating wheeze accompanied the last attempt to remove the iron hands around his throat, but the effort was minuscule to what was needed and Sam felt the weight in his arms and hands prove too much to bear and they fell silently by his sides.
So this is what it's like to die. Sam wondered as the black enveloped him and he had one last humble thought.
How did it come to this?
Four days previously.
Sam was brooding again.
But that wasn't a big surprise to Dean. They were moving on to another town where kids had been disappearing at a local teenage hangout. They had only been in this city three and a half weeks, but already Sam had made a few friends. Friends he didn't want to have to leave behind this time.
Dean sighed, arms crossed and side resting against the door jamb, watched Sam angrily fling a t-shirt and a balled up pair of socks into his duffel bag. He wished the kid wouldn't try so hard with the school thing. It just wasn't worth the effort to be disappointed each time Dad told them to pack their crap for the next hell hole they would be moving to.
"What?!" Sam hissed at him, eyes blazing over his shoulder as he yanked harshly on one drawer, almost causing it to dislodge from the dresser completely.
Dean ignored the tantrum. "Dad said to be finished and ready to go in fifteen."
Sam narrowed his eyes, his face pinched with rebellion. "Whatever."
Dean rolled his eyes when Sam's back was to him. This new teenage angst Sam had developed over the last two years and being obsessed with all things 'normal' was grating on their father, just as it was Dean.
Not that Dean didn't get it, he did. Sam wanted what every other kid had, but something was never obtainable. Not with their present lifestyle. Safe was a fallacy, but one he didn't want to enlighten Sam about.
Not the kind of safe Sam wanted.
The kid had grown immensely in the last two years, both to Sam's surprise and Dean's chagrin. Sam lost what baby fat he'd had, face lean and angular, arms and legs gangly when they had been short and a little stocky just two years ago. He had finally put on a bit of muscle, but was just on the side of slim to almost skinny. He wasn't as bulky as either Dean or their father, which made sparring still a game to Dean with Sam's awkwardness with his new height. He was just an inch shorter than Dean at present, which the elder brother frowned at. The kid had seemingly sprouted overnight, and by the looks of things wasn't done growing, and that would leave Dean the shortest Winchester in the family.
"Are you ready?" Sam asked, voice dripping with sass.
"I'm always ready Sammy." Dean delivered it with a shit-eating grin, ignoring the pissy attitude, moving out of the way as the storming Winchester slipped past him without a backwards glance.
Dean hung his head, letting out a breathless sigh, knuckles rapping against the door jam before he moved to follow his brother to the car.
It was going to be a long drive.
Sam tugged his jacket up higher to tickle just beneath his chin, his head resting against the back passenger window. His father and brother were sitting in the front seat, talking quietly to one another while ignoring him. He kept his eyes on the blurring dark background, the lamplights casting long shadows in the car as the Impala sped past them, the taillights disappearing into the darkness as they passed through another nameless town.
They had been driving since eight o'clock that morning, and it was just after ten at night now. Sam fought to stifle a yawn into the sleeve of his jacket, slumping a bit more against the door, knees cracking as he shifted them to get into a comfortable position. The extra inches he'd put on in the last seven months had never been so glaringly obvious as when he tried to sit in the back seat of the car – his knees hit the back of the front bench seat, and he would shove his feet under the seat in front of him, trying to stretch out as best he could. Every time he shifted, he jammed a foot or knee into the back of his brother's seat, getting a set of narrowed eyes in his direction.
He didn't mean to be angry with Dean earlier that morning, but being told that they were moving – again – just invoked another burst of rebellion and anger towards their father for uprooting them once again.
And Sam was angry with himself for expecting his father to do anything different. Their transient lifestyle had been that way since he could remember, but that didn't mean he enjoyed coasting along, being nothing but a ghost and a faded memory to everyone else they came across. Sam wanted more for himself and for his family, but his wants were in stark contrast with what his father and brother thought was best for him.
Covering his mouth with his hand, Sam had finally shoved the hurt feelings aside and decided he would make it up to Dean the next chance he could – it wasn't fair to Dean – it wasn't his fault. Sometimes Sam didn't know why he got so angry and belligerent with his family. He hated the distance and the arguments, even when he himself started enough of them with his father, his poor brother was stuck in the middle of two hotheads needing a way to vent their frustrations.
Tomorrow, he thought sleepily, tomorrow I'll try and make it up to Dean.
Finally as comfortable as he could get, Sam yawned, shutting his eyes and relaxing into the worn leather seats, burrowing into his jacket as deep as he could get as he felt himself drift from the gentle rocking of the Impala. The purr of the engine and the murmured voices of his family soothed Sam into a gentle slumber.
A sudden bump that the car drove over woke the youngest Winchester from a fitful sleep, eyes blinking in rapid succession to clear the sleep from his eyes.
The tired family pulled into a rundown motel, the neon sign showcasing the name 'Sunwave Motel'. The sign was missing the 'u' and 'v' in the first word, the buzzing blue lights attracting mosquitoes in the dozens.
It was still quite warm for the beginning of April, an unprecedented heat wave in the Minnesota area surprised everyone, including the Winchesters. The sickly heat clung to their shirts, their backs damp with sweat, the humid air hot and hard to breathe in as they tumbled out of the car, the two boys pulling their bags out of the trunk while John went to book them a room for two weeks.
Sam slung his bag over one shoulder, rubbing his eyes with long fingers to wipe the sleep from them. Their dad had pulled him out of school just days before spring break would have started. He figured they would have this case solved before the break would finish, the family moved on and Sam settled in a new school before the end of next week.
That still meant leaving behind the few friends he'd managed to make in a month's time, a huge thorn of contention between him and his father.
Footsteps and an overhead bell from the office made both boys turned their heads at their father's approach. "Room ten." Their father answered at the unasked question.
He watched them trudge to the door as he grabbed his own duffel plus the weapons bag and slammed the trunk lid closed.
He watched Dean, sure and proud, as his eldest son nudged his brother in the shoulder, earning him a swat in return. Dean walked with a lethal grace, one he had perfected since their hunting lifestyle had begun. His son had working steadily in the hunting business since he'd graduated two years previous.
Glancing at Sam, John suppressed a sigh. He loved both his sons more than they could possibly fathom from their strict and to-the-point father, but with Sam, communication seemed to have cut itself off at the knees. He'd never had these issues with Dean – Dean he could count on to understand the situation and do as was told without asking questions.
Sam on the other hand, did the exact opposite.
The questioning of their lifestyle had started when he was fourteen, an out of the blue comment about wanting more for the family, and "why can't we settle down someplace and be normal?"
That first question was the standard one that had led to the ethical and moral decisions of their transient lifestyle – the one of which his youngest began to resent him for.
Sam was still doing his training – John didn't give two craps what Sam thought about that – he wanted his sons prepared. But their arguments and fights had escalated in the last two years and John couldn't understand Sam's wants and daydreams. He was doing this to keep his boys safe – to make sure they kept themselves safe - and Sam just pushed back as hard as John fought him against it.
"Dad?" Dean was looking at him strangely, as if knowing John's thoughts were elsewhere. Sam was looking at him too, hazel eyes wary and concerned at the same time.
John shook his head, bemused. "Nothing. Let's get inside."
Sam blinked sleepy eyes open, a quiet yawn escaping past parted lips as he rubbed his brow, sitting up in bed and hearing his father's quiet swears as he typed on the computer tucked in the corner of the room. "What are you doing, Dad?" Sam asked, placing a hand over his mouth and covering another yawn.
His father glanced at him over the top of the computer screen and then back to the screen in front of him. "Nothing. Go back to sleep Sam."
Contrary by birth, Sam pulled the blankets off his bed, letting his feet touch the course carpet and pushing himself off the bed as his eyes drifted to the window, noticing that morning hadn't yet come. Looking at the other bed, his brother was lying face down, arms wrapped around the pillow like it was a giant stuffed animal a child would clutch in sleep. Sam spared a fond smile. "What time is it?"
He father didn't look at him, fingers still smashing against the keyboard, his frustration mounting. "Just after five in the morning," he answered tiredly.
Sam pulled at his sleep pants, feeling them slipping past his hip bones. They had just bought them, but they were still a bit loose at times, even when Sam pulled the strings as hard as he could and tied them.
He peered over his Dad's shoulder, absently scratching an itch through the sleeve of his shirt. "Are you trying to get into the police database?" Sam recognized the webpage – it looked pretty much the same as every other one across the country.
His father grunted an affirmative.
"Here Dad," Sam motioned towards the computer, "I can help you."
His father studied his face a moment, then relented, moving his hands from the computer.
Sam grabbed the computer and moved it in front of him, feeling his father's eyes on him as he moved swift fingers over the keyboard, hacking his way into the database with practiced ease. Sam didn't really know how he'd learned to do what he could on a computer, but he'd had a few friends who had shown him a bit about computers, and how to get rid of viruses and do basic computer reprogramming and such.
Sam fought a smile. That, and Caleb had shown him a thing or two about hacking into other people's computers. A skill that regretfully hadn't had much use in their hunting life until the last year or two. His father had only gotten the laptop a few months ago, after much bitching about the price of the damn thing, so Sam hadn't been able to put to use his technology skills until then.
Just a minute or two and few clicks later, Sam grinned. "There. You're in."
His father glanced at the screen, seeing that indeed, he was in. "Thank you Sam." He replied honestly, pulling the computer back towards him, fingers poised on the keys and began typing again.
Sam peeled himself away after a minute of silence, heading into the bathroom and closing the door. A few minutes later he came out, still a bit bleary eyed from too little sleep, but knew he was awake now and wouldn't be going back to sleep for a while.
His father ignored him while he opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk, searched around for a glass in one of the kitchen cupboards until he found one, poured a liberal amount into the glass, and leaned against the counter and swallowed the cold beverage. Sam then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, placed the cup in the sink and put the milk back into the fridge then moved to sit heavily on his bed, which squeaked when he sat down.
"Sam," His father spoke a few minutes later with strained silence, "why don't you go for a run? I'll have Dean doing his run when you get back."
A run. Great. Just what Sam wanted to do at five-thirty in the morning. But watching his father run agitated fingers through continuously greying hair, Sam didn't have the wit or energy to fight his father on it. He shrugged into a sweatshirt and slipped on his shoes, wiggling his toes and feeling the dirt and grime that covered the top of his sneakers flake off with the movement.
"Don't forget to take a weapon with you. And your cell phone." His father murmured over the tapping of keys as he flipped through pages of information, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
Sam quietly dug into the weapons bag and pulled out one of his favourite guns – his own Taurus Magnum – and slipped it into the back of his jeans and headed out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
It was still fairly dark outside, the sky ever so slightly pink in the distance, so Sam took to staying near the street lights, giving him the best light in order to see. Compared to his father's other training exercises, Sam didn't mind the three to four mile run in the mornings. He enjoyed cool air before the rising sun made it too hot – the feel of wind on his face, the burn in his calves and the puff of air as it whistled in and out of his lungs. Running, at least, didn't make him kiss the floor with his face – not like when he sparred with his brother.
Sam stepped up the pace, muscles burning as he made the corner and headed back for home.
By the time Sam was out of the shower Dean was nowhere to be found – presumably on his own run per their Dad's orders. John had taken off to find someplace open for breakfast and had asked Sam to tidy up the room before they got back.
Towelling his wet hair and then hanging the towel up to dry, Sam scooped up his dirty clothes and tossed them in the laundry bag, making a mental note to find a laundromat later that day as the clothes bag was getting full. He made his own bed and stood up, then rolled his eyes and fixed up his brother's bed too.
He moved to tidy up the kitchen table, shuffling papers and re-arranging them into a neat pile. One paper fell off the table and Sam picked it up and looked at it. It was a missing person flyer; and as Sam studied the picture, he memorized the long dark hair that curled outwards at the ends, a round face that supported the dark brown eyes that stared right back at him. This girl and four other kids around her age were what brought the Winchester family here in the first place.
All of the kids disappeared in the last month, four of the kids turning up dead and mutilated as if by an animal. The lunar cycle didn't fit, so their father had eliminated it being a werewolf. All of the victims were Sam's age or younger, and this one had been more personal than many of the other cases had been.
The front door suddenly opened. "I hope Dad's bringing back food." Dean exhaled between panted breaths, face a deep red, his freckles more pronounced from his three mile trek out in the early morning. He closed the door behind him, kicked his shoes off and made a beeline for the shower.
"He said he wouldn't be long." Sam called over his shoulder, hearing the answering "yeah yeah" in return, the shower running a minute later.
Sam glanced once more at the paper he held in his right hand, taking in the planes and features of another victim – another job that they were forced to do, before leaving it on the table and turning the tap on to wash his glass from earlier, eyes distant as he wondered what would become of today.
Apparently it was Sam's turn to pick up the groceries while his father and brother went off to talk to the victims' families. Sam was still too young to do the investigating – in his brother's words he was still too 'baby-face like' in order to pull it off. The only time they would allow him to do any interviewing would be if there were kids involved. And at this time of the day, said kids would be in school, like Sam sometimes wished he was too.
Walking down the isles of the small town grocery store, Sam plucked a few necessary items and tossed them into the basket – loaf of bread, some bologna and miracle whip for sandwiches, two tins of spaghetti sauce and a bag of penne noodles, along with a box of spaghetti noodles and a tin of coffee cream. He then went down another isle and found some cheese and milk, another row and found crackers, and a few assortments of junk food and a case of pop that he tucked underneath his arm as he stood in line at the only lane open with a working till.
Sam busied himself looking at the local newspaper while waiting and mentally reviewing the amount of money in his wallet. He tossed the paper into the basket as well.
When it was his turn, Sam heaved the basket on the till and began unloading his finds, hearing the beep of each item scanned and his purchases plopped into a bag and put off to the side.
"So, you off for spring break then?" Her meek voice asked, and Sam looked up from his basket into blue green eyes. A pretty girl, no more than seventeen, with soft makeup that highlighted her olive brown skin and made her vibrant without making her appear like some exotic animal.
"Yeah, you could say that." He quirked his lips at that. "My family, we're just staying here for a few weeks for vacation."
The girl smiled in kind back at him, and it made Sam feel heat touch the corners of his cheeks. "Don't know why you'd want to stay here – not much to do besides camping." She glanced at the newspaper as she scanned it, her smile slipping into a frown. "Been kind of dangerous the last month or so around here. Too many animal attacks."
That peaked Sam's interest. "Yeah?" He inquired, hoping his voice sounded both contrite and of course, interested. His father always told him when trying not to look overly eager, play the oblivious tourist.
She smiled tightly at him. "Yeah. A few kids my age got killed in the last few weeks. Police suspect an animal attack – probably a bear by the sounds of it."
"I'm sorry." Sam murmured while he handed over the cash, truly feeling bad for her. It was never easy losing someone, even if it was a friend in passing. "Were you close with them?"
She glanced up at him at that. "Only Maria. Friend of a friend, you know? She died two weeks ago up on Ridge Avenue." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, her earrings sparkling. "Anyways, here's your things." She placed the last bag on the counter, smiling at him shyly.
"Thanks, uh…" he stumbled, never having caught her name.
She laughed then. "Alice. And yours?"
He snorted humourlessly. "Sam."
"Sam." She repeated, nodding her goodbye as another customer appeared behind him.
Just as he was reaching the door to exit, Alice called out for him. "Hey Sam?"
He glanced over his shoulder at her.
"Why don't you come by The Den tonight? A local place for all the high school kids to hang out. Has to be better than camping any day, right?" She asked, amid scanning food items and placing them in bags.
He already liked Alice. And this would be a way to get some information on the victims – something his dad and brother couldn't do. "Sure. Where's it at?"
"You're going where?" His father demanded, eyes hard and teeth grinding.
Sam really hadn't expected such animosity at the idea. But as soon as he had reached the motel and put the groceries away, his father had walked in the door, pulling off his tie and tossing it onto the kitchen table with a frustrated flick of the wrist.
That should have been his first clue to wait until later. "The Den. It's about a twenty minute walk down from here on the other side of the street." At his father's raised eyebrow, Sam ploughed on. "Looks like a modernized warehouse that sits across from the barber shop. A lot of the high school kids go there in the evenings to study and just hang out."
His father studied him a moment, loosening the shirt collar around his neck. "And you thought this would be useful, how? They're kids, Sam. There were no witnesses to any of the attacks. What could they possibly tell you that the parents wouldn't?"
Sam gritted his teeth and swallowed a retort. His father sometimes forgot that kids weren't always as useless as he thought. "Well it couldn't hurt to check out." He added tirelessly, rinsing out the last dirty bowel and setting it on the dish rack to dry.
His father sighed, moving away from him and sitting heavily onto one of the beds, rubbing calloused fingers into his brow as if fighting a headache. "Fine." The simple answer sounded like it came from a gravel pit, hard and grating on the ears.
"Fine." He answered tonelessly. Sometimes Sam did envy his brother's apparent partnership quality in his relationship with their dad. In the last few years, all Sam has managed to accomplish is either piss his father off, or get ignored. He couldn't recall the last time his dad had actually complimented him on anything, other than getting an off-handed thanks, and was back to being ignored for sake of argument. It frustrated him to no end.
With a sigh, Sam continued on cleaning the kitchen, biding time until his brother returned with dinner in tow.
"You're going where?" Dean asked him incredulously, déjà-vu to earlier that afternoon when his father had asked him the exact same thing.
"I'm going to The Den. It's a place for teens to relax and hang out on weekdays and weekends. Not a big deal."
Dean raised an eyebrow, his tongue rolling over pale lips. "Not a big deal, huh?" He surprised Sam when he grabbed his younger sibling in a headlock, ruffling his hair until all the ends were sticking out all over the place. "Sammy's got a date."
Sam finally pried himself out of Dean's grip, fitfully trying to tame his wild hair. "I do not have a date."
Dean laughed, eyes tight with mirth. "When a girl asks you to 'hang out' that's not really what she's asking bro." He made a swipe at his brother who quickly ducked out of the way. "Wait." He held up a finger, as if something came to him, his brother frowning at him. "She asked you?" His lips puckered in concentration. "Is she blind?"
"Dean!" He hissed, dodging his brother's attempts to put him in another headlock or something else ridiculous and grabbed his coat, running one hand endlessly through his tousled hair, trying desperately to get it lying flat and not sticking up like he'd just gotten out of bed.
Dean laughed behind him as he stormed out of their motel room. "Now, just remember to-"
"Shut up, Dean." He yelled over his shoulder, absently turning on his cell phone and slipping it into his jacket and zipping up the pocket.
"Don't forget to practice safe sex!" Dean yelled cheerfully at him, to Sam's immense embarrassment. A few patrons looked his way from the half filled parking lot, and Sam's cheeks burned as he swiftly traveled down the street, away from the eyes he could feel descending on the middle of his back.
"I'm so going to murder him when I get home," he promised, already formulating the best way possible to carry out his master fratricide plan. And he continued to think about that the whole twelve blocks down to where he would meet up with Alice, the plan getting more and more bloody and grotesque with each passing step.
After only two hours of sitting in a booth not made for someone with long legs, Sam was wondering if the merit of sticking around with the boom box blaring out techno style music right into his left ear, giving him the perception of being half deaf, was really worth it.
Alice had met him at the entrance when he'd arrived, quickly ushering him inside the rather large dance space. He'd gawked at the flickering of green, red and blue strobe lights that danced across the walls, the DJ standing off in the far corner, playing around with CD's and nodding his head in beat with the song. The walls were decorated in various band posters, the lime green wall color virtuously non-existent with the rapid color changes of light that roamed across them.
"Funky place, huh?" Alice yelled over the music, slinking a soft, delicate hand around Sam's arm and towing him towards the right, stairs leading up to where lounge chairs sat atop a patio like area that overlooked the dance floor.
The music was quieter up here and the tropical theme was in full swing – long plants that hang over the wooden balcony and fake monkeys hanging off a palm tree in the corner. The bar, or what looked like the bar, was all decked out in bamboo sticks for siding, served a variety of mocktails and cappuccinos.
They'd only sat down for five minutes before a few more of Alice's friends joined in, all greeting Sam with a shake of the hand and introducing themselves. After a half an hour, they had a group of seven, including Sam, all scrunched into one corner of the balcony, more and more noise coming from down below as a group of teens descended on the dance floor, hollering and stamping their feet in time with the music.
Sam was getting a headache from all of this.
So here he was, two hours in and he'd yet to get any information regarding the victims. He was beginning to wonder if he should call it a night when finally one of the girls spoke up. "So did you hear there was another bear sighting on the reservation?"
"What? No, I didn't hear that." Alice answered, her body leaning towards Michelle with rapt attention. In fact, all of them did, like some kind of football huddle.
"Yeah. Chris mentioned it just after school. Said he saw it lumbering by the reservation school down on Parkside," Michelle replied, flicking her long blonde curls over her shoulder before resting her hands on her black miniskirt and crossing one leg over the other.
Sam interrupted her before anyone else could jump in. "You said reservation?"
The others stared at him. "Yeah." Alice answered. "Most of the land here is reservation land. But most of the reserve kids stay on their own land. They almost never come here unless they need groceries." She paused a moment, thinking. "They all go to that one school, about five miles down the road westward from here. Big red brick building."
"Kind of a creepy looking thing if you asked me." Joshua chimed in, his voice neutral and eyes appearing bored with the conversation.
"Have there been any attacks on the reservation?" Sam inquired, searching each face and trying to appear concerned, but not overtly interested, playing the part of moronic tourist like that's what he really was.
They were all quiet a moment. "No." Joshua finally spoke up, pushing himself back to rest fully in his chair. "The attacks have been on this side of the reservation only. Kind of scattered all over the place, actually."
Michelle piped in. "That last guy, Michael, he was killed up on Summit – like, two blocks from his house."
Alice moved restlessly next to Sam. "He doesn't live in town here though – he lived on the outskirts. Like all the other attacks."
So the thing didn't like coming into town and hadn't touched the reservation. Interesting. Sam didn't know if that would be useful information or not, but it was at least something more than he had.
"….he'd fought with that native kid last week too."
"Pardon?" Sam asked, hoping to catch the last sentence he'd missed.
"Oh, Josh was just saying Mike had a fight with this native kid the other week. Kid told him to stay the hell away from his family or some crap." She frowned, remembering. "Mike never went near the kid's family. I don't think he's ever even been on the reservation before," Michelle said, leaning forward so that her voice would travel past the loud speakers.
They all sat there quiet for a minute or two, everyone else lost in their own thoughts. Sam didn't know what each of them were thinking, but he was hoping he'd be able to start finding out more on this reservation and see what he could dig up on its past. It could prove to be a promising lead.
The conversation afterward drifted into homework assignments, work commitments and so on, Sam only keeping half an ear on the conversation while his mind worked away on the information he'd found out.
He only hoped it would be enough for his family to take notice.
It was nearing eleven o'clock by the time the six of them left the building. Joshua was able to take the two girls home, and offered to drive both Sam and Alice back to their places, but Alice declined, saying that she only lived a couple of blocks away and that Sam assured them that he was heading in that direction as well. Not that he didn't try and talk her out of it, but she was adamant that she would walk home - and Sam couldn't leave her to just walk by herself.
Besides, he'd already called Dean and his brother had told him that their father was still out and with the car. Since the attacks hadn't occurred in town where they were staying Sam decided he could walk back to the motel, no need to wait for his dad to swing by whenever he got back.
They walked silently beside one another, Sam slowing his footsteps to try and match her slower pace, feeling like he was dragging three hundred pound weights behind him at the speed they were moving.
They were still in the downtown area, not much in the way of actual houses yet, when Alice had started up a conversation about what his family was like.
After bringing up half truths and more lies than he was really comfortable saying, he turned the conversation back to Alice.
"My family is really boring. My older sister is a pain in my ass!" She hissed, but Sam could detect the hint of affection in there.
"I think it's in their DNA. My brother is the same way." Sam added, feeling a tug at the corner of his lips. He still needed to find a sneaky way to kill his brother when he got home…
"Must be. And my Mom can be such a jerk! Always bossing me around, treating me like I'm a moron or that I fell out of a stupid tree or something." She muttered under her breath, smiling sardonically at Sam who just chuckled in return.
"Parents." Sam murmured, still smiling and shaking his head.
"Parents indeed," she playfully shoved at Sam, then ran ahead of him, giggling.
It had been a long time since Sam had actually…had fun. Maybe for once fate had smiled down on him to make him miserable.
He wanted to retract that thought a moment later when he noticed the long stretch of woods that interceded the two parts of the town on both sides, feeling a prickle of cold touch the back of his neck. He stopped walking, glancing around to both sides of the street, feeling like eyes were watching them.
Alice seemed to notice that she wasn't being followed, and walked quietly back up to him. "What is it?" She asked, concerned.
There was a loud snap of a branch about twenty feet away from them to their right, and Sam couldn't help the sudden lump that formed in his throat.
"Sam, can we please go? Please?" Alice trembled at his side, tugging absently on his sleeve and at a quick glance he noticed that her eyes were huge in the dark, breath ragged.
"Come on, it's probably nothing, alright? Let's keep moving." He threw an arm around her thin shoulders, moving them at a brisk walk down the middle of the road. There hadn't been any traffic in the last ten minutes, and there weren't any signs that there would be any more.
Another snap of a twig not that far from them and Sam's heart jumped into his throat, his head pounding from the increase in blood pressure. He could feel Alice fumbling with her purse and absently glanced down at her when she pulled a shaking hand out of her bag and held up a can of bear spray. "Just in case, ya know?" She added weakly.
When a snarl and hiss came out of the woods not thirty feet away to their right, Alice yelped like she'd been struck and Sam pushed her ahead of him and walked backwards slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the area. They still had a ways to go before they hit the next civilized area
When the fucking monster of a bear came rampaging out of the bushes running straight at them, Sam realized two things: one, he'd brought a knife to a bear fight, and two, holy shit that was one massive freaking grizzly bear.
"Holy shit! Run! Run!" He pushed Alice ahead of him and they both flat out ran across the asphalt, hearing the lumbering paws pound against the pavement as it advanced towards them, eating up the distance with ease.
Sam's mind panicked, head swivelling back and forth, eyes seeking out some kind of help. He found it when he spotted a maintenance hut, probably to house the hydro pumps for the city and he made a break for it, grabbing Alice's wrist in his hand and towing her towards it.
The steps behind them slowed, the bear apparently realizing they weren't going to be able to get to the safety of lights and people, and Sam used that to his own advantage.
Alice was screaming long and loud in his ear and he ignored it as he desperately fumbled for his lock pick set, blessing his brother for having forgotten to grab it from him earlier in the day when he was going to hand it over to his dad when he went out later that evening. He fumbled with the lock, hearing the roar and clicking of dagger sharp nails on the cement as it lumbered nearer, Alice practically in hysterics. The door finally opened at the same time the bear charged, and Sam yanked Alice through the three inch thick metal door and slammed it shut, locking it just as the door literally rocked from the hit as the bear made impact.
Alice screamed and Sam drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her as he leaned against the door, unable to see even his own hand in front of his face. It was pitch black, even with the tiny window off to their right.
His t-shirt was getting wet from the girl's tears and Sam rubbed her back soothingly even as another shudder went through the door when the bear struck again, his angry howl reverberating through the small hut. Sam closed his eyes and tried to breathe through his own terror, swallowing convulsively as the bear struck the door again and again. Alice's sobs died in Sam's plaid shirt as they slumped down onto the dirty floor, feeling the door tremble with each hit as they tried to stay quiet, the girl trembling in Sam's arms as he attempted to comfort her, all the while trying to ignore the grinding of the bear's nails against the door, the terrifying screech as claws longer than his fingers dragged themselves across the door.
A hiccupping voice called out to him quietly as they were engulfed in a sudden quiet. "Are we going to die?"
And then the door rattled against their backs.
A/N: Next chapter will be up tomorrow or on Monday. Thanks guys!