Title: Taste of Blood
Characters: John, Dean, and Sam
Summary: Sam's first hunt with John and Dean. Sam is 14 and doesn't want what John and Dean want out of life. He wants answers and a little respect, but may get more than he bargained for.
Rating: PG13 for language - AU
Chapter 1of 4
"Are we there yet?" Sam asked. He knew it drove his father crazy when he kept asking but he just couldn't help himself. As a small child his question was genuine but now it was calculated, designed to get under his father's dispassionate exterior. Drumming his fingers on the ash tray, Sam let his frustration with another road trip be evident.
"Sammy, if we were there yet, you'd know it now wouldn't you?"
"Hmphh, Sam grunted as he slumped down. Staring out the window at the barren landscape and counting the light poles was getting really old. They had been on the road for two days, and it seemed like two years to Sam.
Bobby's house was in the backwoods of South Dakota; the last place Sam wanted to call home. Ironically it was the nearest thing he and Dean had to a solid, fixed, home in their whole lives. The man that Sam had come to know as a second father had died fighting vampires, leaving his homestead to his only 'family'… John Winchester and his sons.
Shifting in his seat the youngest Winchester's throat tightened knowing that it was going to be weird without Bobby around to talk to. The scrap yard had been fun with the old hunter around but it was a creepy place especially at night but Bobby had made it seem okay, fine, familiar.
Bobby had been a mentor to Sam, spending hours teaching him a about the supernatural. His father hadn't gotten around to telling him anything useful, it was always tomorrow with him, always busy and not now. Sam begrudged John for being so secretive.
Dean was playing air guitar to Freebird; static on the radio station coming in and out. "At least this station doesn't suck" said Dean. "Bobby listened to Country music 24 hours a day and wouldn't let me change the channel…ever."
Studying the road ahead Dean was aware of his father changing gears, passing the steering wheel through his fingers, pressing the accelerator. Dean knew everything about the car, inside and out. He loved its sleek black lines, the growl of its engine, and the feel of its leather seats as the wheels spun eating up the highway.
"When you gonna let me have her? You said you would and I'll keep her clean an' change the oil just like you do. Besides Sammy's gonna need someone to take him to all that geek stuff, like spelling bees and math club meetings while you're on hunts. I can drive her with my eyes closed."
"Dean I don't need you takin me anywhere." Sam shot back.
"You gonna ride a bike?" Dean snickered, and turned his attention back to his father.
"Maybe I will, don't worry about." Sam huffed, more than annoyed at his brother. How dare Dean throw that back at him, knowing that his legs had grown too long to ride one, and his last attempt left him with a broken arm and twisted front wheel.
John looked at Dean like he was strung out on speed. "Slow down son, you're bouncing off the walls. Remind me to quit giving you caffeine on these road trips."
Sam was annoyed as well, rolling his eyes, wishing he was somewhere else. Dean was getting on Sam's last nerve and buddying up to John was Dean's specialty.
"And as for her…" John stroked the dashboard, "not till you show me you can take care of her properly son."
John ran a hand through his hair as he stared at the road ahead knowing that realistically the time had come, whether he wanted it to or not. Dean knew how to drive, having spent hours on the back roads with John learning the aggressive driving skills he might need one day. He knew Dean was ready, and being almost 18 with no car of his own was like torture to a teenager.
"I'll think about it." John conceded. "But not if you keep whining."
That was almost as good as a yes in Dean's book and his grin widened until it almost went from ear to ear. He would have whooped but that definitely wouldn't be cool so instead he turned and smirked at his brother thoroughly enjoying the pissed bitch face Sam gave him. He knew when not to push his father, and this was one of those times.
Another 9 songs and a dozen commercials later the station began to fade. Dean's thoughts turned from driving and rock music to another favorite past time, food.
"God I'm hungry." Dean's stomach growled so loud he had to laugh. "Is there any place to eat out here, I'm starving."
"You'd eat anything that didn't eat you first Dean," Sam bitched but threw him the last bag of chips from his backpack anyway.
Dean showed his gratefulness by crunching annoyingly, relishing every cracking grinding mouthful. Sam rolled his eyes and pursed his lips but refused to take the bait until Dean, beyond boredom, couldn't resist the opportunity to razz his brother further. Tipping his head back, he shook the last crumbs into his mouth and chewed loudly with his mouth open.
Sam broke. "So how is it being a human trashcan, Dean?"
"It's better than being a Geek Boy." Dean knew he was pushing the limit. His Dad had already told them both to 'Shut it' several times but Sam in bitch-face mode was just too easy.
"How is Captain Underpants anyhow?"
"Kiss my ass Dean."
Dean shot him another backward glance, knowing that Sam wasn't in the mood for his bullshit.
Touche' little brother, which cheek?" he said with a grin.
"DEAN!" John's wrath turned on his eldest. "Cut the crap, I'm not in the mood."
"Yes sir," Dean said, looking down to the floorboard. He hated it when his Dad singled him out; after all they were both being a pain in his ass.
"How come I never get to ride up front anyways?" Sam grumbled.
John half heartedly answered with "Sam you know the rule. If you want to ride up front, you've got to call shotgun, or get to the car first."
"I know that Dad, but Dean always cheats… "Sam sounded petulant even to himself. "….oh forget it."
Dean was John's good little soldier, always snapping to attention and doing whatever Dad said. If Dad said jump, Dean said "how high?" Sam chewed his bottom lip. He felt he was a big disappointment to them both, but one day would show them what he was made of and then he'd be the one sitting up front next to Dad.
"I need to get a life 'cause this one sucks," stretching out in the backseat he muttered to himself. He dozed off, the hum of the road like a familiar lullaby.
"Only about 50 more miles now boys," John's voice brought Sam back. Achingly tired from the trip he rested his head on his hand, elbow on the window ledge of the door.
"I need a break." John continued.
"It's almost dark," Sam said as he peered out of the car window then glanced down at his watch. It was only four. Yet the sky up ahead was dark and in the distance the rain was coming down in sheets
John nudged Dean with his elbow and said, "Wake up."
"I'm up," he said, wiping his sleepy eyes and yawning easing his body with a long deep stretch. "Where are we?"
"Not far off now, we're taking a detour since the highway is closed. Police scanner said there's been a bad car wreck," John's voice was tired and irritated.
"I want to tell you boys some things before we get there, so listen up."
Both boys straightened up. They knew when to pay attention especially since John didn't like repeating himself.
"You know the basement in Bobby's house, the one you weren't allowed in?"
"Yes sir, why?" Sam tilted his head, his interest piqued. It had always been a place of great mystery and speculation, and had been strictly off limits to them. Bobby's voiced echoed in his mind, "This is my sanctuary, so keep out."
Sam chewed at his lip again remembering with a pang of hurt the gruff hunter who had spent hours with him pouring over book after book, explaining to his young charge the intricacies of ancient lore. Bobby was gone and Sam could hardly believe that they would never see him again.
"Well when we get there, I want you to check it out." Bobby had a room down there that…that we might be able to use. We'll have to find the key though."
"I don't need a key Dad, I can pick that old lock with my eyes closed," Dean said with a glint in his eye. The padlock on the door had presented a challenge to Dean, a tease, and the temptation to pick the lock and venture down the steps had been hard to resist.
"Maybe so, but I think I know where the key is, so there'll be no need for that."
John's voice was taught and his face stern as he told the boys how Bobby built the circular room in the basement.
"It's ideal for our purposes. It'll contain anything we can trap in there or keep them out. Its solid iron, coated with salt with devil's traps on the floor and on the ceiling."
Dean whistled, impressed.
Sam was more impressed with the last thing John said. "Devil's traps Dad? Sam was hanging on every word. "What are they?" Sam questioned his father wanting an explanation, but it never came. Only the usual brush off.
"Later Sammy, now's not the time. You don't need to know."
Sam hated it when his father did the 'need to know' thing. It was like an excuse and to Sam all it meant was that his Dad didn't want to talk about it, or he didn't want to take time to explain. He opened his mouth to answer back but before he could speak his mind he thought better of it. Knowing the irritable mood his father was in now wasn't the time. He could wait, and when he was done waiting he was gonna make his Dad give some answers.
The Impala continued through the gathering evening storm. The static buzzing in and out on the radio silenced when John abruptly switched it off. In the quiet Sam's mind wondered, mulling over what thing could be so strong or so horrifying that Bobby had felt it necessary to build such a room and even more terrifying did he, Sam, really want to find out.
"An iron room – AWESOME" said Dean. "I'm goin' down there first thing – been dyin' to see what Bobby was hiding in there."
John glared at him. "Bobby was the best hunter I knew, and if anyone could build a room like that, he could." John gripped the steering wheel. "Livin' out in the sticks he needed something with a little extra security. He left us his place, and now we can finally settle down." He stared straight ahead into the storm, a pensive look on his face. "Besides I'm tired of dragging you boys all over God's creation."
Sam and Dean looked at each other and in unison said "But South Dakota Dad?"
John tried to sound upbeat. "Hey, don't knock it, it's better than where we've been staying, and I want you to go to a regular school and make some regular friends." He was trying to convince himself that it was the best for all of them.
Just recently there had been a little too many prying eyes and social do-gooders poking their noses into his affairs. Yeah they had the boy's best interests at heart but they didn't know the whole picture, they didn't know what was out there waiting in the dark.
"AWE Dad, I can think of better places to spend my time, like on the shooting range out behind the salvage yard. I hate school and I'm probably way behind my class anyway. Can't I just skip it?"
Dean turned on his most charming smile, it was almost as good as his brother's puppy eyes begging his father to agree.
"I can get a GED and still be smarter than a lot of those idiots who get a diploma," Dean sounded as if he was convincing himself as well as John.
"We'll talk about it Dean, just not right now" John answered, but he knew the idea made sense. Dean wouldn't be valedictorian, much less pass with good grades; he had missed way too much school in the past 6 months to catch up.
"I wanna go to school." Said Sam, sitting sat up straight so he could to see John's reflection in the rear view mirror. "When can we go check it out?" his voice gave a squeak from the excitement. Sam was on the verge of manhood, but the boy in him was still there, just under the surface. Maybe he thought, just maybe…finally he would get some kind of normal life.
"Let's get to the house first guys and get settled in, then we can talk about what to do next." John closed the conversation and both the Winchester siblings knew when to shut up.
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Chapter 2of 4
Rain pounded the hood of the Impala, sending splashes of water flying off the windshield. Even with the wipers on full blast it was hard for John to see the road.
"Damn, I haven't seen it rain like this in years," John said wiping the fog from the inside of the windshield. The defrost fan was blowing on high and it rattled as the Lego toys Dean had stuffed down the grill when he was six were buffeted by the cold air. John smiled remembering the roasting he'd given his eldest, but it also brought home to him that his car was more than just a means of transportation; it was home to the Winchester family. That was about to come to an end.
The years spent on the road were wearing on his children. They needed stability; a place to put down roots. His guilt was weighing heavily on him lately, and John was thankful that Bobby had left the house to his displaced family. Bobby and John hadn't always see eye to eye, but the boys were special to him. He once told John that Sam and Dean were like sons he never had.
The early evening sky flickered again with lightning; the flashes stretching like grasping fingers across the horizon to an unreachable destination. Sunset was hours away but the sky grew eerily darker.
Dean, with his usual tact blurted out "I could eat a horse." The chips he'd eaten earlier had done little to curb his hunger.
"A horse Dean, exaggerate much?" Sam's stomach was talking to him, though he'd never let Dean know it.
"I'm stopping in a few minutes," said John. If I remember right there's a store up ahead. "Just hope this rain lets up a little while we get some supplies."
Two miles from the turnoff to the winding gravel road that led to Bobby's yard, John stopped at Carver's Country Store. The store was adequate from what John remembered, and would do for now until he could get into town. The rain had slowed to a sprinkle, but thunder and lightning continued to roll in the distance.
John pushed open the car door and got out. "Dean, Get me a large coffee and some food for the house, and oh, don't forget toilet paper. I'll be in there in a minute." He flipped on the gas pump and fished his wallet out of the glove box.
Dean was eager to get out of the car and get chips and soda or whatever junk food he could find. He pulled on his boots, wove his arms into his jacket, and with a swoop pulled the jacket over his head; a little trick his Mom taught him a long time ago. He'd taught four year old Sammy how it worked, and he picked it right up. It was one of the many things he'd taught Sammy; how to tie his shoes, brush his teeth, make a bed. Most of the things John just hadn't had time for.
He wanted Sammy to know something, anything about her too. He told Sam that she taught him these little things when it was just the two of them, stuff Dad didn't even know. Dean's memory of Mary was still there, and John had made sure he never forgot her, but Sammy had nothing so he shared what he could remember with him.
Dean told Sam how she sang to him before bed and told him angels were watching over him. How she loved to bake pies, and how she always took his hand whenever they crossed a street.
Another thing Dean remembered about Mary was her cutting the crusts of his sandwiches, and he made sure Sammy had the benefit of it, even though it was Dean who did it for him. He would say "here ya' go Sammy… just like Mom would have done it."
Swinging the door open wide, Dean bent down and peered in the back window.
"Hey Bigfoot, you coming or what?"
Sam climbed out of the back seat, his long legs needing space to stretch. "Sure," he mumbled to himself, trudging into the store. "Need me to hold your hand Dean?"
"Bite me," Dean said with a smirk.
"Get away from me," Sam shot back trying to stay away from his annoying brother as long as possible. He was just glad to be out of the car finally.
John filled the tank and moved the Impala to the side lot, away from the front of the store.
Sam went straight to the magazine rack and flipped through the pages mindlessly. Dean caught his eye from behind the turnstile and said "Is that the latest Geek of the Month issue Sammy?"
Ignoring Dean's snark, Sam grinned and shook his head, his dimples clearly outlined in the dimly lit store.
"No, I thought I'd get you the latest Superman comic, just to watch your lips move when you read it."
Ignoring Sam's attempt to needle him, Dean headed down another isle, found the rack of tools and picked up a small set of picks to add to the growing collection in the trunk. Dean's interests were different than his brother's. Tools, guns, working with his hands were what he enjoyed. John was teaching him how to work on the Impala, a skill he would need one day, possibly to find a job. Good mechanics were hard to come by, and his father was the best at that, too.
"Always have a plan B in life," John would tell him.
Sam yelled across the store so anyone and everyone could hear him. "Hey Dean," "they have the newest Busty Asian Beauties issue…too bad you're not old enough to buy it."
Dean looked at Sam sideways proudly taking note of how his brother's comebacks were getting better lately, then without hesitation, flipped him the bird.
A deafening clap of thunder boomed outside. Sparks flew from the overhead lights and the whole building shook, knocking bottles and food packages onto the floor.
Suddenly the store was plunged into darkness, the hum of the coolers silenced and Sam found he could hear his own breathing. Instinctively he stood still facing where he thought Dean was. He was telling himself that this was fine, it was okay but he couldn't stop the rising feeling of panic. He'd never liked the dark.
"Dean." His voice was little above a whisper.
A hand gripped his arm and instinctively he pulled away.
"S'okay Sammy, I gotcha."
"Dean?"
The emergency lights flickered on and Sam found himself looking into his brother's bright green eyes. The fear Sam felt moments earlier was replaced by a familiar more comforting one; he was safe and he wasn't alone. Dean was there, he was always there.
"You're such a girl Sammy." Sam jerked his arm away, Dean's voice had been full of affection but it still felt like he was being patronized by his big brother.
Sam looked for John when Dean was being a jerk; took comfort in his father's presence and knew that his father would not let Dean push things too far. He caught sight of the familiar figure at the counter.
"Jesus, that one was really close," said Richard Carver. John grinned at the clerk's concern. Richard had taken over running the little store from his father a few years ago. He was a useful source of local information and knew about everyone and everything that went on in the small town of Sioux Falls. He remembered when he and Bobby shared a six pack or two with him in more mellow times.
"I've seen some storms before, but this is one in a million. The lightnin' alone is enough scare the shit of me," Richard said as he walked to the window, trying to see the damage to the transformer pole and make sure it wasn't about to topple onto the store.
"I hear ya' man. I could barely see to drive," John said as he dumped several packages and cartons on the counter.
"John, good to see you again, what brings you out to these parts?"
"Change of scenery Richard, you doing okay?
"Can't complain," he said as he shook John's hand.
"Whatcha feedin' those boys? They're as tall as you now."
John smiled, his hand moved up to cover his heart; his pride for his sons evident.
"They eat everything in sight these days, Richard."
Just then the phone rang, and looking at Richard's face John figured it must be his wife. The man was nodding and not saying much.
The Winchesters piled more provisions on the counter and waited for Richard to hang up.
"Sorry man, I'm closing up – the storm's knocked out power all around and the wife wants me home. He looked at the pile of groceries on the counter. Register's not working, hope you got cash."
"Dad, can I get this mag…" John cut Dean off mid-sentence, still focused on the store owner, he handed him a fifty. "No problem Richard. Keep the change."
Walking back towards the magazine rack, Dean whispered to Sammy "Well he didn't say no," and he winked at Sam, tucking Busty Asian Beauties into his jacket. Sam's eyes widened in excited surprise; he liked being partners in crime with his big brother and Dean just might let him have a look once he'd finished with it. The boys grabbed the bags, still teasing each other as they headed outside.
John started out the door, "We'll be out at the Singer place."
"I was sorry to hear of Bobby passin', John, I know you and he were close."
"Yep, it's a sad thing. Bobby was a good man and it's been hard on us. He left us his place by the way, so we're gonna fix up the house and stay awhile."
"Glad to hear it, that place needs some attention," Richard replied, now helping another customer he raised a hand but not his eyes.
John let the door slam hard as he headed out to the Impala but after a few steps he glanced over his shoulder, his hunter's instincts always on alert. He had been keeping an eye on the man in the back of the store, had lost track but had not seen the man leave ahead of them.
A thick grove of trees shielded the car from the view of the store, and suddenly the man was there beside the car, at little too close for comfort.
"You alright man?" John asked cautiously. It didn't do to piss off the locals but that didn't mean he liked the guy being so close to his car, or his sons.
"Yes, Winchester, I'm fine" The stranger held John's gaze. John's internal alarm was ringing loudly, blood drained from his face as adrenaline coursed through his veins. This stranger knew his name, and his attitude was far from friendly.
"You sure do move around a lot, dragging those kids all over hell and creation. Just what are you runnin' from?"
"What's it to you?'" John's eyes never left the figure as he gripped the small metal flask he'd taken from his pocket in the store.
Steam rose from the host as the holy water caught bare skin; black eyes gleamed briefly before resuming their humanity.
"You think that's gonna make me talk?" the demon spewed.
"No, but this will" John leapt at the figure and a knife nicked its throat. A blast of golden light glowed from the slice. "How does that feel - you black eyed bastard? One little stick with this and you're history."
"Go ahead Winchester, let's see what you got." It got one punch in gashing John's left temple before the hunter had it on the ground.
Sam and Dean turned toward the commotion and started to come around the car, but John shouted a warning.
"Boys stay back!" But as John turned back the demon wrenched its arm free, wildly swinging at John's head.
Groceries went flying across the seat of the car. Sam reached his father first leaping onto the man's struggling back helping his father hold the demon host face down in the mud, knife still at his throat. Dean froze in a split second of shock; his father's words pierced the night air once again.
"Dean, the trunk!" he barked with the tone of a drill sergeant.
Dean already had the trunk open throwing some of its contents out onto the ground.
"We're not lettin' this one get away; I want some answers," John huffed. Help me get him in there, now!"
The three of them managed to get the possessed man up and into the trunk, slamming it down before the demon could blow out. It was caught in the devil's trap that John had scratched under the trunk hood carpeting years ago. The boys hadn't known it was there. John had thought they didn't need to know but now he couldn't avoid his sons' questioning looks.
"Devil's Trap." He nodded towards the trunk hood. That was all the explanation he was prepared to give at the moment but he knew from his youngest son's face that he was going to have to find time to explain once the demon was secure.
Gravel flew up as they sped away resuming their journey in silence except for the demon kicking and screaming in its dark cage.
The elder Winchester breathed heavily knowing what lay ahead that night. He glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. His son was sitting as far away from the trunk as he could, legs spread eagle and arms laid crossed over the seat, his hazel eyes locked on his father.
"Dad, who, wha' the hell is that thing?" Sammy stuttered.
"Sammy no…" Dean began to speak and John once again cut him off. "Dean, shut it."
When John finally spoke, it was to his youngest son…"That Sammy, is a human possessed by a demon and I think the time has come for you to get your feet wet."
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Chapter 3 of 4
Dean was the seasoned hunter. He'd spent so many nights on the road with John that he'd stopped counting. Dean was a natural; John only had to show him once and he had it down. At the age of six Dean could strip down a gun and put it back together in minutes. He was a good shot too, reveling in the praise and affection that his father would give him. All in all Dean was an asset to the family.
Sam was often left at Bobby's or at Pastor Jim's. Sam didn't mind though. He preferred staying in one place. He got to make friends, stay in a school for more than three weeks at a time and eat good home cooked food instead of takeout. That didn't mean he got off free from his father's regime. He still had to get up at 6 a.m. when his father returned, to go for a run, to spar with Dean and endure endless hours of target practice. It was during these tasks that Sam's mind soared, took him away from the daily grind, took him to those places he'd seen pictures of and dreamed about visiting.
Sam was smart and inquisitive and he was barely old enough to read when his Dad put him to work researching hunts, but Sam never tired of reading the lore books at Bobby's house like he did the training. He and the elder hunter would spend hours going over the books in Bobby's extensive library, reading and comparing notes.
Bobby lived alone, embittered and taciturn since his wife died but something about the Winchester's had gotten under his skin and several times in recent years he'd been seen to crack a smile. Like John, he was hardened, had no sympathy and gave no quarter to the vile creatures which seemed to populate the earth in ever increasing numbers.
Sam's respect for Bobby was as important as proving himself to John. He valued Bobby's experience and opinions, and was determined to try his hardest and show that Bobby's time teaching him his lessons hadn't been for nothing.
Bobby was a second father to the two Winchester boys. Where John trained them hard and barked orders Bobby gave them friendship and stability. That was until he and John argued and Bobby had taken up his shotgun and told the hunter not to come back. Sam remembered that day, remembered watching the heavy-set figure of Bobby, shot gun cradled across his chest, grow smaller and smaller in the Impala's back window as the car drove away.
That was the last time Sam had seen Bobby. They'd learned from an associate of Bobby's that the hunter had gone down to Fort Wayne, a hotbed for vamps. Bobby being well versed in vampire lore had decided that he and Martin, another seasoned hunter would be enough. By light of day they had set fire-traps around the outside of the abandoned house, knowing that they could trap the vampires inside. Then it had been a simple task to light a match and burn the vamps while they slept.
Bobby had made his move, set his trap, burnt the house to the ground and headed back to the rendezvous with Martin.
Unbeknownst to Bobby the house had human watchers - Vampire wannabe's who, on seeing the initial flames at the front of the house had surprised, overpowered and killed Martin, woken the vamps at the back and got them out before the fire had engulfed the whole building. Five vampires burned, but the rest caught Bobby's scent, overtook him on the road, tortured him, drained him and left his body in a ditch at the side of the highway.
John received the news with his usual stoicism but Sam saw underneath the impassive façade. He saw how upset John really was but he knew his father would never accept any words of comfort. Neither would Dean so all three Winchesters nursed their grief on their own, each broken by the news but unable to share.
John had driven for two days and nights through tear filled eyes hardly seeing the road, to demand the body from a group of startled hunters. Sam and Dean had helped him build the pyre and lay their friend's body out, but it had been John who had lit the fire.
Staring at the flames Sam hadn't been able to cry he'd only felt anger, an impotent rage that burned deep in his gut. It was all mixed up, tied in convoluted knots; Bobby's death and the mother he never knew and all the hurt and fear swimming inside him coalesced into a hard ball of desire, desire for revenge.
For years Sam had felt like an outsider; like he had failed his father by not being more like him but now he embraced hunting. He welcomed the training and the cold sweat which outlined his developing muscles.
Sam's spare time had always been filled with reading and taking home school classes, which he soaked up like a sponge. John admired his determination to try and be a normal kid, but never let on how he felt. Sam was just as hard headed as his father, and his frustration often ended in raised voices and hurt feelings. Since Bobby's death John had seen a change in his son and instead of them being at opposite ends of an argument they'd found a common ground.
Dean said that they were like peas in a pod but they'd ignored him.
The old house stood dark, creaking and moaning as the wind blew the dilapidated shutters, slamming them into the windows.
Outside lightning flashed, bathing the room in a sudden searing brightness and then it was gone as suddenly, leaving the small kerosene lamp to light the space with its eerie glow.
Leaning against the wall at the top of the basement stairs, Sam held his palms against his forehead, sweat running down his face. John's instructions were to stay put but Sam was finding it hard to obey.
Lightning rolled across the sky again and the ghostly shadows in the room haunted, taunted him, reminding him of the old hunter who had lived there for so long. Sam counted the seconds between the flash and the deep roll of thunder; three seconds…the storm was getting closer. His heart raced and softly he spoke to himself, "I'm just a little spooked, I'll be okay."
He could hear John's voice and the evil rebuttal of the demon, but couldn't make out the words. Sam knew that his father was coming for him, but all he wanted to do was run out the door and never look back. He swallowed as the lighting flashed and he counted, one, two…he got no further as the rumble again shook the windows.
An old kerosene lantern glowed dimly in the filthy basement, but John had managed to find a few candles to lighten up the small round room. The iron and salt imbedded in the walls and floor of the specially designed room burned into the human host's flesh weakening the demon with each passing minute.
Overhead the fan above the devil's trap creaked and turned steadily. The floor had been painted with the same trap extending to a point on each curve of the walls. Ghostly candlelight flickered in the disturbed air and John's long shadow leapt up the walls as he stood demanding answers from the captured demon.
"How'd you know my name?" John said his voice calm and focused.
The demon spoke deliberately, "S'not important, but I got a message for you Winchester. You shouldn't be poking your nose where it doesn't belong; one day it's gonna be the death of you."
John bent down, intimidatingly close, close enough to smell the rank breath heaving from it. He glared into the dead black eyes.
"You don't scare me, Winchester, you don't even come close."
John's expression turn to a smile, "We'll see about that," he said.
Listening and watching closely Dean paced the room, sawed off clutched to his side, his eyes focused on the squirming figure in the chair.
"Dad this dick isn't going to tell us anything about the thing that killed mom," Dean remarked with surliness in his tone. He didn't like the delay in killing the thing. It was evil and he wanted it gone.
"Whether it does or not, Sam's gonna send it back to hell and we'll be rid of it," John glanced up at his eldest son. "I was hoping I might get some information first but the sonofabitch isn't gonna spill and I'm not sitting around all night making small talk with it."
John's voice lowered to a whisper. "This is the part of the job I hate, an innocent man dying from a demon getting his jollies." He wiped away the blood running down his face with the sleeve of his shirt. The blow the demon landed on him outside the store was still bleeding, and patching it up was the last thing on John's mind at the moment.
"What's the matter, don't like being a demon's bitch old man?" I see you bleed like this poor bastard I'm riding…"
Dean cocked the sawed off and pressed it against the hosts head. "Just let me blast him in the face, just once…I'll shut him up for good."
The demon stared Dean down. "Keep your dog on a leash Winchester – seems to me he could do with a good beating."
John's patience was gone and the crunching blow he delivered to its jaw with his elbow gave him little satisfaction.
"Either tell me where the bastard is that killed my wife, or shut the hell up!" John yelled, but the demon knew just what buttons to push. It grinned showing a row of yellowing teeth.
"I was told to keep an eye on you Winchester. Follow you, see what you were about. You've been lookin' for someone right? Goin' all over, asking questions." It smirked again. "Well while you've been looking for him, he's been looking for you. You're taking care of something for him….How is little Sammy? Oh, from what I saw he's not that little now."
John sprayed the demon again with holy water. "Shut your goddamn mouth, you don't get to say his name, you don't get the right to say nothin'!"
"And here I was thinking you wanted me to talk."
"What's he rambling about?" Dean questioned John worried by the mention of his brother.
"Not now Dean!" John yelled at him. "He's a lyin' piece of shit, they all are!"
Upstairs Sam paced the room. He could tell by the raised voices that things were getting heated down below.
After a few seconds a loud a thud echoed up the stairs. Sam took the stairs down two at a time and rounded the corner to see John lying in a slumped heap on the floor, ropes in a pile around the broken wooden chair. Dean tried to get a shot off but the demon sent him flying across the room with a flick of its hand, the gun sliding across the floor out of reach.
"Didn't your Daddy teach you to play nice?" the demon sneered at Dean advancing on him.
Sam covered the few feet to his father in one stride. "Dad..." He knelt, checking his Dad's vitals before hauling him to his feet.
Dean spat blood and clenched his teeth. "Ok, you son of a bitch," his voice lowering to a deep growl, "You're going back to hell even if I have to go with you." He lunged for the gun, rolled as he closed his hand over barrel, aiming as he came to his knees. He blasted off two rounds knocking the demon across the room, enough of a distraction to give Sam and John a start for the door.
"Get out of here now!" John pushed Sam through the opening and turned looking for his eldest son, his voice thundered over the storm that was raging outside. "DEAN NOW."
Dean pulled himself up shaking off the stars in his head, ignoring the swelling lip and pain in his shoulder. Reloading Dean raised the gun putting two more salt rounds into the demon's chest driving it backwards giving him time to get out before John slammed the huge door behind him.
Peering through the small window in the door, John could see the demon slithering on the floor, doing its best to regain strength. "He's not goin' anywhere boys, time to go to work."
"So the ropes didn't hold it" Sam stuttered, his eyes darting between his brother and father, and back to the door.
"You think?" Dean snapped. "All we had were those damn rotten ropes Bobby had lyin' around. Next time we'll use chains."
"Next time?" Sam's heart was thumping against his chest. There was going to be a next time. That was a demon in there one that seemed enjoy possessing poor bastards and didn't seem at all phased by the fact that they…Sam corrected himself…that he was about to exorcise it. He swallowed hard, and took a deep breath...he could do this, he could and then maybe his Dad would see him as more than a book worm.
John turned, "Dean. You okay?"
"Shoulder's dislocated…" He wiped the back of his hand over his lips and examined the smear of blood. "And the bastard rattled my teeth."
"Sam?"
"I'm fine."
"Sure?"
Sam's frustration at John's questioning infuriated him.
"Quit treatin' me like a kid!"
John ignored the comment but smiled to himself, his green eyes squinting out into the darkness, his gut telling him that after years of training his son was ready. This didn't mean that John was ready. He still felt uneasy letting Sam tackle something as difficult as an exorcism on his cherry hunt, and the urge to protect him was different than it had been with Dean.
Dean was always ready for a hunt, but his youngest was still learning.
"This shoulder is talking to me Dad – guess you'd better put it back where it belongs." Dean knew this was the part of the job, and it was the part he could do without.
"Okay, on three? Ready, one, two," and before Dean could brace himself John had pushed the bone back in place, leaving Dean gasping for breath.
"Ahhh God that hurts!" Dean fell to his knees, holding his throbbing shoulder.
John felt the warm drip of blood still running freely from his head wound. "Damn it, I need a bandage for this one, it won't stop," he said, trying in vain to soak up the blood with his sleeve.
"You're losin' a lot of blood," Sam said.
"Its okay Sammy, it'll have to wait. We have more important things to do."
Sam leaned against the cold cement wall of the basement, head down as he tried to calm his nerves. Above, the house shook violently from the force of the storm. Glass cracked and shattered as the windows broke in the upstairs bedrooms. Underground, the only storm raging was the one in Sam's head.
"You don't have to go back in there," Dean grumbled at Sam.
"Dean, I'm fine, quit riding my ass."
"Hey" Dean raised his hands in supplication, "Just sayin'… Sammy,"
"Well don't." Sam bit back the anger and hurt. His family really didn't give him credit; even Dean thought he was too soft for this.
"You two, shut the hell up and listen. You sound like a couple of girls; especially you Sam. That prissy attitude ain't gonna get you very far." He stepped closer. "That thing in there, it ain't got much juice left so don't worry about it throwing you around. It's three against one but we need to keep sharp and move fast. Now grab that holy water Sam, we're gonna give it another little bath before you finish it off."
Sam tried to disguise the trembling in his hands. There was pure evil on the other side of the door and his family was relying on him to play his part. He was not going to let them down.
The demon screeched, its skin burning; smoke rising from the human it possessed. The biting smell of sulfur stunk up the room. It could hear the hunters plotting behind the door, and couldn't resist taunting them once again.
"Hey Sammy, I've got some news for you. You know your Mommy never wanted you, right? You were a mistake."
"Ignore him Sammy, demons lie – it's what they do best," John said loud enough so the demon could hear him.
"I know." Sam swallowed breathing heavily, "So the knife, it'll kill it?" Sam asked, his voice trembling.
He knew the answer, but his brain was on overload, and he needed time to think. The plan had been to try and exorcise the demon and save the host but Sam was beginning to think that killing the thing was the only way to go.
Dean encouraged him, "Easy tiger, just give it a little more time; the devils trap will keep it in one place while we try and get the damn thing out. If we can't then you can give it a little stick."
The blade of the knife glistened at John's side as he slowly pulled it from its sheath. This knife was special. John had come across it after a failed hunt. The creature he'd been hunting had escaped disappearing totally but leaving the extraordinary weapon lying on a rocky ledge.
After months of research in countless books, he finally found a sketch of the knife. It had been smelted by a medieval blacksmith, made of pure silver and blessed by a shaman. It was said to kill supernatural beings and it was the most unique weapon in John's arsenal.
A few weeks later he discovered the true power of the knife, as he swung it and stabbed a demon only to watch as an odd luminous glow appeared around the wound. The beast's scream of pain echoed through the empty warehouse before falling to the cement floor, dead.
Sam had been as fascinated with the knife as John. He'd always been interested in knives like Dean had a love of guns and even though he felt intimidated by it, he could feel the pull of its power.
Brushing his unruly hair from his eyes, Sam looked intently into John's face.
"You sure it'll kill it?"
John was studying his youngest son, and knew he was scared and trying not to show it. John hadn't told the boys of the knife's true power, but he had let Sam practice with it a few times. The countless hours he'd forced his son to spend throwing and practicing techniques with Dean were about to be put to the test.
"This knife will kill it Sammy, I know you can kill it if you need to."
John turned the hilt towards Sam, holding the blade carefully. Sam's eyes widened, and he felt the blood pumping through his veins; his mouth as dry as cotton. He took the knife, turning it over in his hands, testing its weight and balance all the time trying to overcome the tight feeling in his gut.
Sam felt relieved when he saw Dean move up behind him and was thankful for it. Sometimes Dean could be a real jerk but he knew that his brother always had his back.
John moved too reaching for and taking the shotgun from his eldest son."You won't be any good with the sawed off with that shoulder, so I'll take it. Stand by with the water Dean. We can't take the risk that it might break out."
Dean was also growing impatient. "Sam, hand me the water. Let's shut this bastard up."
"Just open the door!" Sam yelled, slugging the jug to Dean, just wanting to get it over with.
John took Sam by the shoulders forcing him to look straight into his eyes. "Sam, you'll be fine, I know you can do this, just remember what I told you…demons lie. Just relax, concentrate and keep your eyes open." John took a deep breath, and gave Dean a nod.
John put his hand on the door, and with a jolt he thrust the door in. The hunters were in the room surrounding the demon. It laughed at them, an evil laugh that no human could muster.
The demon twisted its lips into a grimace of a smile, "It's about time you cowards came back in." The demon poked its scrawny finger at John. "He…he's not even sure you're his…." It moved keeping its body facing Sam, concentrating, its attention on its target. "Why do you think he treats you like second best, why his precious Dean is his favorite…? Why do you think he set you up for this?"
"Bastard!" John yelled his voice cracking with emotion.
"Come on Sammy, show me what you got. I know you've got fire in your belly," and again it laughed.
John began the incantation, speaking slowly and deliberately the Latin verse he knew by heart.
Sam gripped the knife tightly, and walked slowly toward the weakened figure, backing it against the wall. Waving its arm it tried in vain to throw Sam away, its strength all but gone. Fear at last in its black, black eyes, but it threw out one last taunt.
"You might kill me Sam Winchester but it takes you one step closer to what Azazel wants."
Dean threw the holy water watching the clear liquid arc through the air to splash onto the demon. It screamed in pain, steam rising from its skin and Sam without hesitation raised the knife thrusting the blade deep into the thing's chest. Light burst through the wound glowing at first then expanding, radiating out to light up the whole room.
Twisting the knife, pushing it further into the yielding flesh Sam felt the demon sag as it let out a final desperate cry.
Stepping back Sam yanked the knife free and let the body fall to the floor. Droplets of blood sprayed as the blade arced, splashing on Sam's face, his cheeks, forehead and mouth. In a reflex action he licked his lips, and found the taste of blood bitter on his tongue.
"Damn Sammy – I'm impressed…Straight for the kill huh?" Dean was grinning. "I guess you do have the Winchester guts after all."
"Damn it Sam, what the hell? Didn't you hear me speaking Latin?" His Dad was angry but Sam couldn't take in what he was saying, he just kept staring at the crumpled body at his feet. He felt a touch on his arm.
"You okay son?" His Dads voice was softer.
"I'm okay," and he repeated when both his Dad and Dean kept staring at him. I'm fine….." He grinned. "Whoah …th' …that was a rush." He took a few deep breaths, to still the dizziness. "I guess the adrenaline took over, or something."
Sam swallowed again and the vile taste in his mouth grew stronger all his senses were on overload. His brain seemed to be having trouble processing what had just happened. It just kept replaying the sound of flesh being cut and the sight of the knife going in.
The room was suddenly silent except for the heavy breathing of from the three hunters standing together as one. It was then that Sam realized that the day had come; he'd tasted, literally, First Blood and now Sam was a killer; he was a hunter.
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Chapter 4 of 4
"I'm proud of you son," John said, a sigh of relief in his voice. Dean was still in shock from what he had just witnessed from his younger brother.
"I didn't think you had it in you, Sammy," Dean slapped him on the back sending Sam staggering forward but Sam had a sick feeling in his stomach now and his knees buckled.
"Hey, hey, Sam, here sit down before you fall down," John barked. "You'll be okay. It's just the adrenaline rush taking its toll." Sam slumped onto the chair that Dean scraped up behind him but he couldn't help staring, couldn't take his eyes from the body.
"I just killed a man, Dad, I …I know he was a demon, or whatever but I killed him."
John's heart sank a little, the day he had dreaded for so long was now here and it was a hollow feeling. It was different from Dean's first hunt. He remembered the exhilaration he'd felt when Dean had begged him to go along, the excitement Dean had shown in wanting to please his father had given him a sense of pride in who his son was.
With Sam, there was no exhilaration only a sense relief that it was over and he could see that his son was now experiencing the let down, the outrush of emotion that came at the end of a hunt.
"S'okay Sammy, just give me the knife." John held out his hand and Sam wiping the blood from the blade on his jeans returned the knife.
"Help me get him outside Sammy, then grab a shovel and start digging." John knew that there was nothing like hard physical labor to calm the mind and he knew that his youngest son was going to over think events if he was left to himself. He tapped Sam lightly on the shoulder to gain his attention. "Sammy?"
The cool night air sent chills over Sam's flushed skin, his clothes soaked with sweat stuck to his body as he stood in the secluded forest. John had helped drag the body deep into the woods. He left them to it while he went back to clean up the basement room.
Sorry I can't help you dude," Dean winced, "but this shoulder is killing me so, I'll just keep you company."
Sam got to work digging; the lantern lighting the wooded area, ghostly shadows flickering across the trees in the darkness. His muscles bunched and ached as he shoveled the earth deepening the hole steadily but his Dad's plan to take his mind of the kill hadn't worked. He couldn't shake the eerie feeling in his gut that something had changed in him, something he didn't like.
The storm had passed without any of the Winchesters noticing but moisture dropped off the trees leaving both boys sticky from sweat and wet to the skin.
"I guess this is another missing person that'll stay missing, huh Dean?"
"Once he was possessed, the poor sonofabitch didn't really stand a chance," Dean said quietly.
Dean continued to ramble on filling the awkward silence between them. Telling Sam how he'd felt after his first hunt. How he'd killed an Empusa, an insect like creature that had been sucking the life out of young teenage boys. Dad had used Dean as bait but had been knocked unconscious by the monster leaving Dean on his own with only a small ankle knife.
Proudly recounting his fight, blow for blow Dean continued to watch his brother dig the grave. He wasn't one for bragging, yeah right, but he wanted to impress his little brother with the fact that he wasn't on his own and that Dean knew how he felt.
"One day Sammy, you'll look forward to taking out the bad guys. It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it," he snickered. "I thought you did pretty damn good for a rookie" and gave he gave Sam a wink.
Sam wasn't in a mood for talking so he let Dean drone on not really paying attention to what his brother was saying. He dug the grave putting in all his effort. He wanted to tire himself, exhaust himself to the point where he didn't have to think, trying to push the memory from his mind but suddenly he stopped.
"Dean, how do you do this?"
"Do what, dig a hole?" Dean was trying to get a laugh out of him but Sam wasn't in a laughing mood. Why he'd asked his brother he didn't know. Dean rarely gave him a straight answer about anything, much less how to deal with killing a possessed human. It wasn't that Dean was shallow it was just that his brother, like his Dad, didn't share.
"I just do it, I don't think about it – it's the only way to stay sane Sammy…and it gets easier, trust me. You gotta remember it's not how we do it, it's why we do it."
"Humph, if you say so, Dean." Sam returned to the digging, punching the shovel into the earth with such intensity that he felt the jarring all the way through the shaft.
He'd only shifted a few more shovel-fulls when Dean spoke again.
"Hey Sammy, do you think what the demon said was true?"
"I dunno. Not much point in asking Dad about it though."
"Nah not unless he thinks you need to know." Dean said, agreeing with his brother that John wasn't exactly an open book.
Sam poured the salt watching the small grains fall, lightly covering the corpse slumped in the bottom of the hole. Dean joined him splashing kerosene over the body before striking the match and throwing it in. The body burned and they stood shoulder to shoulder watching the flames reach up and then die back before Sam covered everything up, filling in the grave until it was a small heap of soil in a forest dotted with small heaps of soil.
Both were past exhaustion by the time they'd finished.
"Come on Sam, let's head in, Dad's probably still up."
John had cleaned the cut on his head, and decided stitches weren't needed. He heated some soup on the old propane stove and had it ready by the time he heard his two sons re-enter the house.
"Come 'n get it" his voice was low and calming. He knew his sons needed food and some time to unwind.
"I could eat the carpet." said Dean, as he straddled the chair at the kitchen table pulling the offered bowl towards him. The cut on his lip stung with each spoonful but that didn't stop him shoveling in the hot soup as fast as he could.
"Not hungry." Sam was still feeling anxious and like he would choke if he tried to eat anything. Crossing the room he plopped down into an old armchair. He didn't want to eat or sleep or anything…he just wanted to block it all out.
John was fully aware of his youngest son's ability to brood and making an effort he forced himself out of his own mood to sit next to his youngest.
"Sam, what do you remember most about Bobby?" He was taking a chance, talking about Bobby might make Sam's mood even blacker but as he waited for the answer he saw the frown lines on Sam's forehead smooth.
Sam thoughts were wandering, but the question brought him back.
"Being here again without him brings back a lot of memories. He taught me how to throw a knife, and figure out the lore books. He was tough, but a good tough, kinda like you Dad."
"Tough is right," John made a mock frown but his lips twitched with a smile and Sam couldn't help but return the twitch. "He was a great hunter," John continued, "… and he taught me a lot too about stuff I never even imagined was out there."
Yawning deeply, Dean joined the conversation. "I remember the first time he took me out back to the range to shoot. You were gone for a few days. I guess I was about 8 or so. He was a good shot and he taught me a few tricks that you didn't even know Dad." Dean swallowed obviously moved by his memories.
"Bobby was a hard ass though, and didn't like to hear any whinin'. Princess Dean, he used to call me sometimes and I hated that. He kept my ass on the straight and narrow when I needed it."
"Yeah, he sure had a way with words didn't he?" John nodded his agreement. "And he loved you boys like sons, and I'm grateful he was here to look after you while I was gone hunting. I know he tried to protect you when you were younger, didn't want you little guys to know about the nightmares out there but he also knew that you needed to be trained."
Each hunter remained quiet lost in the memories of their friend until Dean broke the silence.
"Well I'm beat." Dean stretched out on the sofa and was out as soon as he lay down, snoring softly.
John looked across the room towards Sam. "Sammy, you need to sleep too; beds are upstairs." He gave a soft chuckle as he covered his eldest with a rug.
"Yeah Dad, in a little bit."
Sam answered but John knew the signs, his son would not rest easy so he waited giving Sam space and time to say what he had to say.
"Dad?"
"What son?"
"What did that demon mean? What is it you're not tellin' me?"
"Sammy, now's not the time…"
Sam cut him off, not letting John off the hook this time. He said "Dad, I don't wanna hear that – he…it said some things that don't make sense. Why would it say somethin' like that, what was it trying to do?"
"I dunno son, I told you before demon's lie, they try to stir things up." He hoped Sam would accept that explanation, he didn't want to go into his suspicions or his fear for his son now. It would do no good and it certainly wouldn't help Sam.
Who's Az…Azazel and what does he want?"
"Sam, I know what it said and I have no idea who Azazel is but I truly believe it was trying to rattle you. It would have said anything it thought might stop you." John chose his words carefully the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together. He now had a name; Azazel, and maybe he was closer to getting his questions answered but Sam didn't need to know, he didn't need to be burdened by what if.
"Sam…what you did today...I… I'm proud of you son."
Shocked Sam looked up into his father's face. His Dad never praised him, not like that. It made him uneasy but he saw nothing in John's features to worry him so he said nothing, and for once just accepted his Dad's words for what they were.
"'k Dad. G'night."
"Night son."
In his room Sam lay awake, eyes wide open staring at the moonlight streaming through the glass of the small window. The day's events kept playing over and over no matter how hard he tried to forget. Closing his eyes didn't help so he lay trying not to think, but just accept that he was now a hunter and his Dad was proud of him, but the taste of blood – demon blood, still lingered.
***THE END***