Hey everyone! I have only recently fallen in love with Supernatural, and am a newbie in this fandom. I'm still a relatively inexperienced writer, and would much appreciate feedback to help me grow. This chapter is basically a pilot to see how my stab at Supernatural goes. For those who are interested in my LOTR's fanfic, it's on temporary hiatus. I am now officially back into writing and Hunt Not So Simple will be completed in due course. Enjoy!
Chapter 1 - Takin' It Easy
"Uh-uh. No freaking way, Sam."
"Dean…"
"No."
Sam heaved an exaggerated sigh and jerked open the bathroom door, emerging in freshly laundered sweats and Dean's old Metallica hoodie, which was stretched beyond all recognition. Crossing the room in two quick strides, he pulled back the blinds and peered out onto the quiet streets of Nowhere, Illinois. The classic Impala grinned back at him from her spot directly outside.
A slight harrumph brought Sam's attention to Dean. Lounging on the bed closest to the door, Dean had hogged the remote (again) and was flicking through their rather limited options. Having finally settled on a Simpsons re-run, Dean was now glaring at Sam, a poor imitation of John Winchester's patented "don't you shit with me, boy" look.
"Dean, there's nothing out there," Sam muttered, crossing to his bed and sitting on the edge, facing his brother.
"Cool, Sammy. Still don't want you goin' out by yourself." Dean's retort sounded final, and that hit a nerve.
"You're not Dad."
"Look, Sam…" Dean's voice was soft. "Let's just take it easy for a while, huh? Been a tough couple of months. You're the bitch always whining for some downtime."
"Jerk."
"Yeah, well." Dean switched the TV off and lobbed the remote at Sam's head. "Gonna get some shut-eye. Goodnight, Princess."
Sam easily caught the remote and chucked it again, aiming it towards the moth eaten, puke-coloured contraption that passed as a couch. It landed solidly, sending a thin sheet of dust into the air, which disappeared into blackness as Sam switched off the bedside lamp.
" 'Night, jerk."
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Having located several books on mythological tales linked to the supernatural, Sam dragged them to the "Quiet Study" section of the local college library. Some careful wheedling and a patented puppy-dog smile had gained him admission into the library's geekiest depths, and Sam was content browsing while Dean hustled pool. His older brother had called him a nerd of course, relentlessly teased him when he'd heard that Sam wanted to spend his day "studying". He had understood, of course. To Sam, any connection, any at all to college was like a sting and balsam at once. On the one hand, it made Sam remember Jess. On the other, it made him never want to forget.
About an hour into his "study" session (Sam preferred to call it "reading for pleasure"), he caught a whiff of perfume and glanced up to see a young woman standing in front of him and a little to the left. Her face was turned so Sam could only see her profile. But what made his heart stop, then erratically restart were those blonde curls.
As though sensing Sam's shocked stare, the girl turned. Of course isn't Jess, Sam berated himself silently, forcing his face to relax into a normal-looking (he hoped) smile. The girl's face was longer, her skin a shade lighter, her eyes a shade darker than Jess's. Nowhere near as beautiful. In fact, the similarities ended with the hair. The girl-with-Jess's-hair approached his table with a friendly smile.
"Hey. I haven't seen you study here. I'm Bianca." Her voice was light, like tinkling bells or wind chimes.
"I'm Sam."
"That's a nice name, Sam." She had approached so her hip touched the edge of Sam's table. "Come outside with me."
Sam had his answer all planned out. He would say, I'm sorry, I have a test coming up and my brother's picking me up soon. He gets worried. It's how big brothers are, ya know? Simple. Effective. Except somehow, the words got jumbled, and he stumbled to his feet, completely intent on passing up on the offer, but unable to do anything except follow the girl's instructions. A voice in his head whispered,
Leave your phone here. On the table. You don't need to take it with you. You'll only be gone a minute.
And Sam obeyed, even though he really wanted to say, No, Dean hates it when I don't pick up. He gets worried. It's how big brothers are, ya know? Except then he found himself following Bianca, the girl-with-Jess's hair up the stairs, shoes squeaking against the polished wooden floors of the library. Her perfume drew Sam on, and his phone lay on the table amidst the weighty tomes he had so avidly perused.
No sooner had the library's automatic doors closed behind Sam and Bianca with a whoosh, that Sam's caller ID identified Dean. The phone rang out, then rang again. And again. Its "quiet vibrate feature" may as well have been the "all but silent feature" for all the notice anyone in the library took of it.
And outside, Sam was trapped inside his own head, unable to verbalise his thoughts as he kept pace with Bianca's surprisingly long stride. Dean will be worried. He's my big brother. It's just how he is…ya know? Except obviously Bianca didn't know. Obviously Bianca didn't have big brothers, because she was leading him by the hand, far, far away. Her perfume…God, her perfume was heady. Sam's last memory before the world shone bright and disappeared were Bianca's words, spoken in a voice decidedly lower than a woman's should be.
I do know how big brothers are. I'm counting on Dean to come to your rescue, Sammy-boy. Then he can watch me hurt you, like I watched him hurt my brother. That's how sweet vengeance works…ya know?