Title: Playing With Fire (1/?)
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: M
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Spoilers: Season 3
Summery: Sam's got a lot of secrets and one of them may just be the key to saving Dean. Unfortunately for Sam, it's going to come at a high price.
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, Bella, and Ruby are not mine. Kit, Kail, and Lauran are mine. Casey is also mine but if his real-life counterpart ever found out about him he's liable to break my ribs…again.
AN: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. It is also my first Wincest fanfic, but I have no qualms about booking that ticket to the Special Hell, though I'm fairly sure I already had a seat reserved for various other reasons...
Part 1: Impending Doom
When the four month mark hits Sam begins to lose all hope. There just didn't seem to be a way to get Dean out of this goddamn contract. Sam had thought they might have gotten it once there, something involving a complicated looking Latin spell and an artifact Sam knew he'd have to sell his left leg and possibly his hand to Bella to get, but that turned out to be a dead end. Sam had watched the last bit of hope in his brother's eyes die and couldn't help but feel his own start to die with it. Still, Sam was a Winchester and they were nothing if not mule-headed about family and/or so-called lost causes, so he continued to look for some hint to an answer.
As it was, the inspiration came from Dean himself, albeit in a rather unintentional kind of way.
They had been driving through the Arizona desert for nearly two hours now and Sam was feeling dejected, hot, and was contemplating whether or not it was possible for a human being to become melted to the seat. They had finished up a case involving a poltergeist in Flagstaff and were now on their way to check out some purported cases of spontaneous combustion in Phoenix. Though, in this heat, Sam was inclined to believe it was entirely possible and in no way supernatural--unless they had taken a wrong turn somewhere and driven into Hell by mistake, but he figured there would have been road signs.
Sam was staring at the Arizona state map with complete disinterest, his mind mulling over the spell he had so desperately wanted to be Dean's salvation. It was a spell to sever a contract alright, unfortunately it was only for the matrimonial kind so, unless the hellhounds were coming to drag Dean off to the altar like some blushing, virgin bride, it was pretty much useless to them.
Though Sam was idly toying with the idea of rewriting it some. That, however, was a bad idea even if you knew what you were doing and chances are it would still blow up in your face. Sam knew that it would most likely end up killing them both--or in the best case leave them with frogs crawling of uncomfortable places. There were stories.
He shuddered at the thought.
"Did you just shiver? 'cause it's like ninety degrees outside and if you're cold you have to be sick and that's not allowed." Dean said, catching sight of the motion.
"I'm not allowed to get sick?" Sam asked, amused.
"Yep," Dean replied brightly. "I absolutely forbid it. You're even more of a whiny bitch when you're sick and I refuse to allow it."
"Jerk," Sam retorted automatically, his mind already drifting back to the spell. "It wasn't a shiver. I was thinking about frogs."
Dean shot him one of those 'dude, what the hell are you on?' looks out if the corner of his eye. "Frogs?" he repeated.
"Mhmmm," Sam confirmed distractedly. "Want to avoid the frogs."
Dean continued to watch him incredulously out of his peripheral vision. "Well, I think we can manage that," he said slowly, trying to decide if Sam had gone crazy before or after the last rest stop. "I imagine we're more likely to run into lizards here anyway." It was best just to play along and get Sam somewhere cool as fast as possible. The heat must have fried his brains, Dean decided.
Lizards.
Sam sucked in an involuntary breath as cat-pupiled blue-gold eyes flickered across his memory.
The answer had been right there all along hadn't it?
There was, of course, a reason he hadn't considered it before; she may be considered neutral in this whole Good and Evil spectrum but that was only because she was more cunning--and likely more powerful--then anyone on either side. Which made her about three times more dangerous in Sam's book. He turned to look at Dean who had finally shifted his attention back to the road as they hit the expected back up of cars entering Phoenix from the north. Time was running out, and she was the only sure thing Sam had to go on. She was dangerous, and Sam was sure it was going to cost him more then the limbs he was going to offer to Bella, but it was very possibly the only way to save Dean's soul.
Lizards. Fuck.
Sam let his head flop back with a stifled groan and tried not to feel like he would be better off chancing the frogs
They checked into the usual No-tell Motel just as morning sizzled into afternoon. Welcome to Phoenix, Arizona; one of the few places on earth where the shade wants to stand in the shade, Sam thought grumpily as he peeled himself off of the Impala's seat and trudged into the room. The room was air-conditioned--which was to say that the interior was eighty-five instead of a hundred-and-five--but it wasn't really able to be considered an improvement.
Sam, though, was a bit more preoccupied with his revelation about Dean's problem. He had to figure out a plan, how to get to her and how he was supposed to plead his case effectively before she sent that corpse-eyed freak of hers after him. He hadn't exactly been on the best of terms with her when he last saw her.
He would have felt a lot better if he knew he could have Dean watching his back but there was no way he was letting Dean anywhere near her if he could help it. In fact, it was best if Dean didn't even know about her. That way, if it all went south and she killed him, Dean couldn't try to take her out only to wind up as her newest play thing instead of Hell's new demon-recruit.
Dean was going to be three kinds of pissed when Sam disappeared without a trace again.
"Yo, Sammy! What's going on in that freaky head of yours?" Dean yelled, throwing a pillow at his brother's head.
Sam ducked the projectile and blinked as he re-acquainted himself with the present. "What?"
"I've been talking to you for the last five minutes. You still thinking kinky things about amphibians or what?"
Sam looked at Dean carefully, trying to decide when the heat had fried his brother's brains. "Amphibians?" he asked, utterly confused. "What the hell are you talking about, Dean?"
"Me? You were the one going on about frogs!" Dean said.
"What? Oh. No, I was thinking about that spell you dumbass." Sam replied, with a head-shake.
"Well excuse me for not seeing what that has to do with frogs," Dean snapped, failing to see any sort of connection.
"I was thinking about re-writing it and was going over the possible consequences of it going wrong," Sam tried to explain.
Dean looked only marginally less confused. "Riiiight. So frogs could go wrong?"
Sam made a face, thinking about some of the disasters he'd read about. "Trust me, you don't want to know."
Dean gave him the 'okay, you're fucking fruit loops' look but didn't comment. Instead he flopped down on one of the beds and stretched out. "Fuck if I'm going anywhere in this heat. Lets wait until dark."
Sam nodded in absent-minded agreement and tried not to notice the way the sweat made Dean's skin glisten as he stretched.
He was well aware of the fact that his brother was not the only one with a seat reserved in Hell. At least Dean had gotten his because of something noble, Sam was just a pervert. But Sam had come to terms with that several years ago and was becoming quite adept at ignoring the hell out of it--pardon the pun.
At least he had been until there was this big countdown clock on the time he had left to spend with Dean.
Impending Doom had a way of overriding studied repression, but Sam was making a valiant effort none-the-less.
So, in the spirit of removing said Impending Doom and returning to repressing, Sam hammered out his rather sketchy plan to go visit someone he would have been more then happy to never see again.
Dean was going to kill him when he got back--assuming she didn't do it first--for disappearing when had so little time left and Sam was reasonably sure might never forgive him for it even if it did all turn out okay. Dean never liked finding out Sam had been keeping secrets from him, especially considering Sam's secrets tend to be rather spectacular and mildly life-threatening.
It was him being Sammy Psychic Wonder that had started this whole mess in the first place. Yes, the powers were still there, but Sam prided himself on being the King of Repression for more then just his less-then-pure feelings towards his brother.
Sadly, psychicness was easier to repress.
"I'm going to see if I can find something cold to drink," Sam announced.
Dean didn't open his eyes. "Bring me back something would ya?" he asked.
"Hmm." Sam made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. He was glad Dean kept his eyes shut because he was sure he looked as guilty as hell. He wouldn't be back after all. Not for a while.
Sam paused in the doorway and allowed himself one last, long look at Dean, trying to memorize every feature. Who knew if he'd see him again. Sam's jaw tightened. He would. He could do this. Sam shut the door behind him and tried to hold onto that determination.
With demon contracts and possible death hanging over his head it was all in all not how Sam had imagined his return to Palo Alto would be.
...To be continued in Part 2- IHOP: International House of Preternatural Creatures...
AN: Please tell if anyone would be interested in me continuing...Feed back is love!