Summary: Written for comment-fic at LJ. Prompt: American Gods / Supernatural, Sam, what is he now?

AN: Hey! I'm back in the SPN fandom, briefly and in crossover form, but back nevertheless. :P Thanks!


In the Shadow of the Gods

There's a man sitting on one of the fold-up chairs outside of the door of the convenience store as Sam walks up to enter. He's reading a book, looking completely engrossed in the story.

Sam glances at the title out of curiosity as he passes by.

There's a werewolf on the cover. Heart says the blood-red font up top. By Carver Edlund.

Sam backtracks and stares.

The man isn't the kind of guy you'd expect would be reading a book like that. Big guy, but not the flabby kind of big. Muscles. Dark hair, dark complexioned, he looks like he could be Indian. Native American, corrects the voice of the academic in Sam's head. In his hand is a coin that he's flipping back and forth across his knuckles, all apparently without thinking about it.

"Some of us," the man says quietly, not looking up from his page, "Some of us exist because people believed in us, or once believed. And some of us exist only in order to do something. But what happens after we're done?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asks, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. This man is more than he appears to be.

The man looks up now, dark eyes twinkling with more than the light of the midday sun. The coin glitters on its journey across his knuckles.

"Seems to me, you're the second kind," he says, putting his book away now, "The kind who was made to do something, and did it. And then what? What are we now?"

Sam stares and finally shrugs. This man is obviously either crazy or...not a man. "What are you?" he asks, just to make sure.

The...man smiles. "I'm like you," he says, then tilts his head. "Not exactly like you - you're the only one like you - but I had a purpose. And I fulfilled it."

"Oh," Sam says, "That's nice."

The man chuckles. "I'm not crazy."

"Are you an angel?" Just to make sure.

"No. I'm a god. Like a god, anyway. Gods don't really thrive here on this land, you know."

"Oh." No, he hadn't known. "Why are you here?"

The man - like-a-god - shrugs. "Curious. There's been a lot of talk about you the last few years. You and your brother. I thought I'd let you know you're not alone." He stands and the dark eyes glimmer again. "If you ever need help, call."

Then he starts to walk off, before Sam calls him back. "Wait. How do I call you?" Might as well ask, just in case. "I don't even know who you are."

The man stops, turns. "I'm called Shadow," he says, and with that continues his walk away from Sam.

But how would he contact-

"Check your pocket."

Sam pats his pockets down and finally, in his wallet, he finds a grey business card with a phone number (and nothing else) on it.

"Weird," he mumbles, and puts the card back in his wallet. "Really weird."


AN 12/22/2018: My bestest bestest friend (fiend!) did story art for this fic. It is fantabulous and I love LOVE LOVE it! Thanks Lyl! *glomp*