AU – House of Wax . . . I got the idea from the fact that Jared Padalecki is in both, and the characters (I found) were rather similar in personality . . . Also, in the first episode Dean says "Almost two years, I never bothered you once" but then in Hook Man he says "so this is how you spent four good years of your life?" and I thought; WHOA HOLD UP that means in his second year of college Sam and Dean had some kind of interaction okay hold up hold up … And thus this fanfiction was born
. . .
Just once, Sam would have liked to be normal. Just once, he would have liked to have a girlfriend and have been happy and been able to go to a football game with his friends and camp out under the stars and just be a happy, normal, 20-year-old.
Just once.
But of course, life didn't work that way for him. It never worked that way for him. He thought he had almost been there. He had been dating Carly for a while now, and she was even trying to convince him to leave Stanford and move to New York with her. And Nick, well . . . He was almost sure Nick was starting to warm up to him. He had even let his new friends give him a nickname; Wade. What kind of horrid name was that? But they insisted that's what he should be called . . . He looked like a Wade, apparently. And "Winchester" was too masculine of a name for such a "pussy of a dude" and "Sam" was for grandpas.
He had been so close . . . So close to normal. So close to having that life he had dreamt of ever since he was a little kid. But then that man had snipped his ankle.
And it had hurt! Sam was so shocked that he didn't even allow himself to fight back and pull through. He was getting rusty . . . Vincent managed to overcome him and drag him off to some underground torcher chamber. Of course, Sam had perfectly well intended on escaping once the adrenaline kicked in and overpowered the stab wound he had received in his chest. But Vincent was one step ahead. He injected some kind of drug that made Sam completely forget where he was or what was going on. Then, he had been nice enough to patch up the two wounds. It had hurt, but somehow Sam hadn't screamed. Why? Why couldn't he scream? Screw this, he needed help!
Then, Vincent ripped off any hair he had on his face. That really hurt like a bitch! Why did women willingly go through that?!
And the rest after that got blurry. He had been coated in some kind of hardening liquid, re-clothed, and then positioned at the piano. The only part of him he could move where his eyes. That wouldn't do much good in escaping . . .
So this was it. This was how he died.
. . .
"Spooky," Dean murmured to himself as he entered the town. There was . . . no one. His father had been right . . . The entire town appeared to be abandoned. It wasn't late enough for everyone to be sleeping . . . Was it?
Hmm . . . where to look first? His father had mentioned some seriously suspicious activity at that weird House of Wax museum . . . God, Sammy would've loved that . . . He was such a dork sometimes. For a moment, he was tempted to dial his brother's cellphone number and ask him to come down and help.
No, he told himself. It's been two years. If Sammy wanted to talk to you, he'd have called you by now. He left because he didn't want to be part of the family anymore. That includes you.
And that hurt. Dean cared about his baby brother more than anything else in the world, and he thought Sam had felt the same . . . But, those were mushy feelings. And the best way to deal with mushy feelings was to ignore them until the last possible second. That was the Winchester Way.
When he reached the wax museum, he was surprised to find the door handing slightly ajar. Shouldn't there be some kind of lock or something? Dean entered without hesitation.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, as he nearly collided with one of the figures in the dark. It was eerily life-like . . . But that was the reason he was here. His father had mentioned something about the entire town just suddenly stop existing. All the residents disappeared off the grid . . . It didn't make sense.
. . .
Hours had passed. No one had come back, though. Sam saw this as a good thing. It meant that Carly might have actually escaped with her life . . . He doubted it though. He had been raised to do this kind of thing, and even he wouldn't make it out alive . . . He would die there, and no one would even know . . .
But then . . . Dalton? How the hell had he gotten there? Unless Carly had called for help . . . Which meant all the others could potentially be there as well. Great.
Dalton was saying something that Sam wasn't exactly paying attention to. He could just barely feel Dalton pressing down on the wax that covered his cheek . . . He was going to try to rip it off, and take half of Sam's face with him.
But before he could, the man from before appeared out of nowhere and dragged Dalton off. Sam was sad about Dalton's guaranteed demise, but couldn't help being a little relieved that his face hadn't been peeled off.
"Hello?!" someone shouted, probably in response to Dalton's screams. Heavy footsteps entered the room.
. . .
Someone had screamed in the next room over. Dean ran in, weapon in hand. So there were living people here . . .
Or so he thought. When he entered the room he saw . . . No one. It was empty aside from the wax figures. His eyes drifted towards the piano. Dean snickered when he saw the statue positioned there. It almost looked like Sammy, but obviously, mad of wax. And . . . the eyes. They almost looked—
Did they just move?
. . .
DEAN! It was Dean! Of all people in the world to walk in, it was Sam's older brother. Maybe he was saved!
Dean's smirk faded from his face, replaced with a look of pure horror. He dropped the gun he had been holding and let his duffle slide off his shoulders. "S-Sammy?"
Sam tried to yell, but only a quiet humming noise came out of his sealed lips. Dean rushed over and patted his little brother's face. "Goddamn it Sammy, what happened?"
. . .
Okay, okay stop panicking, Dean told himself. Sammy needs you . . . pull it together.
He rushed back over to the duffel and pulled out some of the baby oil his father had told him to bring, just in case. If you rubbed it on wax it was supposed to liquefy or something . . .
"Okay . . . I'm gonna get your mouth first, okay, Sammy?" Dean asked. "I'm real sorry if this hurts . . ."
He poured the oil onto a facecloth and began to vigorously attack his brother's face. After a few moments, he reached back down into the duffle and pulled out soap, water, and another face cloth. He scrubbed again until he was almost positive he had gotten all the wax off, then he rinsed his brother's mouth.
Of course, his mouth being free didn't mean Sam could move it. His jaw was still covered, after all. He did manage a few words however. "Dean, how did you . . .?"
"Just shut up for a second," Dean instructed. Let me finish your face . . . And he did. It took what felt like forever, but he did it. He successfully freed his brother's face of all hardened wax.
"Thank you," Sam said gratefully. He had really never been more relieved in his life . . . Dying like that would have been terrible . . . So much worse than anything else he could imagine, actually. "Get my arms so I can help."
Dean did as Sam asked, and eventually, Sam was helping free the rest of himself.
"What are you doing here, anyways?" Sam asked.
"Dad thought there might be a hunt . . . sent me to check it out," Dean explained.
"Not a hunt . . . it's a person, Dean . . . It's just some really messed up guy," Sam told him.
"What about out you?" the older one asked. "Why the hell are you here, Sammy?"
Sam chuckled. "Came to see a football game with my friends . . . Guess that didn't work out so well, huh?"
"There are other people here?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Dalton, Nick, Blake, Paige, and my girlfriend Carly . . . Dalton's dead, I don't know about the others."
Dean's eyebrows shot up his head. "That's rough . . ."
He looked down. Sam was now stripped to his underwear. "Hey, uh, Sammy . . . Wax-Man didn't cover you, uh . . . down there, did he?"
Sam snickered. "No. Thankfully I was spared. I think we got it all . . ."
Dean shook his head. "That only took all year . . ."
Sam rolled his eyes and tried to stand up. His entire body was bright red and stinging from being scrubbed so hard. Dean had to help him.
"Maybe we should go get you some help," Dean suggested. "Tell the cops or something. Seems more like their kinda issue."
"But the others—"
"Sam, we can't help them with this . . . These are people against people. That is not our territory. I'll drive us to a hospital and we'll get the local law enforcement, now come on!"
Sam sighed. Maybe Dean was right . . . "Yeah, okay . . . Just . . . help me get my clothes back on?"
Dean chuckled. "Hey, don't get too discouraged . . . I'm sure your eyebrows will grow back someday."
Sam hung his head. "School is going to be so much fun next week," he moaned sarcastically.
Dean lightly patted his back and helped lead his brother back to the car. "C'mon, Sammy . . ."