Title: Turn, Turn, Turn
Author: Jeanny
Rating: PG-13 or T – please see warnings
Warnings: Spoilers only through the first episode of Season 3. Mild bondage, violence, angst, gratuitous vomiting, profanity and, um, cannibalism? Lots of hurt with probably not enough comfort. Not a death fic, despite the opening line.
Author's Note: Written for sowell for SPN Summergen 2013, and then I never got around to posting it anywhere else until now. RL is a cruel mistress. Title is from the song by The Byrds. (see additional author's note at the end of the chapter)
Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine and these characters don't belong to me and I can't find a court where I can sue for custody.
Summary: The third time Sam wakes up all he knows is he's alive, he has no idea where Dean is, and he's trapped with a wendigo he has no way to kill.
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The first time Sam wakes up, all he knows is he's dead. And based on the pain probably in hell.
There's a flutter of fear, but mostly he feels resigned, even a bit relieved. If he's dead, maybe that means that his brother's clear of the deal; hell, maybe that's what killed him! It doesn't matter. He can't really think and he's pretty sure his brain's going to ooze out of his ears anyway.
Dean going to be furious with him, Sam knows the feeling, but it's not like he wanted to die. He wanted to find a way to save his brother and himself, but it's fine, he can live with this. Or not, because, dead. Right.
Except now his brain's settling down from about-to-ooze and he's starting to think he's maybe not dead. For one thing there's the smell. It's not sulphuric or smoky like he would expect hell to smell, and not like that perfume Jess wore, which always was heaven to Sam. But more like dirt, some vague kind of dank smell like stagnant water, and the faint iron tang of blood. If this is the scent of the afterlife, Sam is unimpressed.
So maybe he's dead, and maybe he isn't, but it should be pretty easy to confirm either way. He just needs to open his eyes. His eyes are not on board with this new plan. Apparently someone glued his lids shut while he was dead. There's a distant screeching sound, like a thousand nails on a chalkboard growing louder and louder, but he can barely hear anything over the buzzing in own head. The floor's no longer cool beneath his cheek, and the flash of white behind his glued eyelids makes tears start to flow or maybe his brain's oozing out through his eyes now, and then there's nothing.
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The second time Sam wakes up, all he knows is he's almost sure he's not dead, his brain may still be in his head miraculously enough, and he has no idea where Dean is.
It's that last thought that his eyes fly open on. The tears must have loosened up the glue from before or something. It feels like rocks and pebbles are digging into his back, so he's pretty sure he's lying on the ground. His foot brushes something solid, maybe a wall, and he can't see the ceiling because it's too dim and his vision's too fuzzy. It's not pitch black, so there's some kind of light source; he thinks he sees shadows flickering out of the corner of his eye. It makes him dizzy if he tries to watch them, a little sick to his stomach. Or that might be the major head trauma; Sam's had enough concussions in his life to know this one's bad. Hospital bad, even, though that seems unlikely to happen in the near future. Not until he finds Dean at least.
He's alone, and Dean would never leave him alone, not injured, not in a strange place. For a brief heart-stopping moment he thinks Dean's in hell; but it's not time yet, it can't be. Sam has to believe he'd iknow/i. So Dean's just not here, which means he's probably looking for Sam, and he can't find him. If Dean can't find Sam, Sam will just have to get up and find Dean.
Unfortunately this will require movement.
Sam thinks sitting up is a good place to start, but right away there's a new wrinkle: his hands are tied. They're tied in front of him, not behind him, but Sam still can't believe he hadn't noticed before now. Tied up can mean nothing good; his mind flashes briefly to the Benders, to Gordon Walker, to being tied up at Bobby's with Meg burning him from the inside. Panic makes the vague nausea flare and a horrible stench fills his nostrils. Sam manages to turn his head back to the side, hoping he'll be able to void his stomach contents without choking.
Sam finds himself eye to eye with a monster.
His mind supplies wendigo. as it growls at him, breathing fetid breath in his face. He's choking, breathless, dying. He won't be able to save his brother, or even say goodbye. All he can hope is that he vomits on the thing before it eats him, so that when he sees his mom and dad again they'll know in some way he went down defiant.
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A/N: I'm sorry about all the vomit and I'm afraid I'm not done. I know things look bad here, but we're only just starting. Incidentally this story's complete and I'll be posting it here in 4 chapters, but I'd love to know what you think so far!
