Title--there comes a shadow knocking
Author--Corrianne//spellbond
Disclaimer--yeah, not mine. I only play in the sandbox which has been so nicely set up for us all. Ha, don't we love it?
Summary--Sam goes down for a late night snack. Seem innocent enough. Don't worry--there's still limp! To come….
Note--For ScaredOfPennies--of the limp!Sam board secret santa story exchange! It's only the first part, I'm sorry that it's on the shorter side. I'll try to have the rest up….uh, soon. But I hope you enjoy it either way! Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this.
Each window and door was warded heavily, with numerous spells and charms. Hell, the apocalypse itself could not walk through that door.
The lines of salt were checked and remade each night, inspected by John Winchester.
It was a small rented house that the three Winchester men resided in, a quiet neighborhood--seemingly normal. But being cautious was the reason that they were still alive. In the hunting world, one small slip up could cost John, Sam or Dean their lives. And that was a price he never wanted to have to pay. So wards and spells.
They were staying in the neighborhood until their Sam could finish up his Sophomore year of high school. Sam loved it. He had friends, and sports, and did school work. All he had to do was the research on the gigs and continue to train with his brother.
The idea was given to the father by Dean, who was tired of Sam's constant 'bitching'. Plus, the fighting between his brother and his father was getting seriously heavy. Soon, he worried that one or the other would come out swinging. And fighting with his son…he shook his head. If Mary could see how he handled the teenager…
Since moving here, both brother and father noticed animmediate change in Sam. But it made John worried. In three months they'd be leaving again, and Sam was obviously adjusted to this already. How could he deal with the change in his youngest once they left again?
The moody, sullen teenager in the backseat of the Impala would once again emerge and they'd all be back to square one.
However, John wasn't going to worry about that right now, as he prepared for bed. He, with great care set down his journal into it's hiding place and covered the books he'd been reading from. Tomorrow, he'd be leaving--Bobby was needing some help with a hunt and John said he'd go up there for a few days.
Dean, had wanted to come along, but John wasn't quite sure he trusted to leave Sam on his own. He had made up an excuse that he was sure his oldest saw through.
The light in the small room was currently lit, as the teenager worked silently on his English homeroom assignment.
"Turn the light off, you freak! Normal people want to sleep!" came the muffled voice, spoken through the pillow from the bed next to his. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's words.
As if Dean hadn't woken him up, coming in at all hours of the night--after doing God knows what…a place that Sam's mind really didn't want to go. Dean's antics with the female species were best left unknown to any sane human being.
But, Sam noticed his mind slowly shutting down for the night, and he yawned, pausing on the unfinished paragraph--his body would soon follow.
"Turn it off yourself, jerk.." Sam retorted, putting his things away, and throwing his bag onto the floor. He then wandered into the bathroom to get ready for bed--smiling to himself as he listened to his brother's obscenities flow from the room.
What no one had been counting on, an intruder crossing the lawn, seeing no light in the house, no car in the driveway. Easy prey here. His fingers itched.
Maybe it was bad luck. Sam was thirsty, and it was the kind of thirst that couldn't wait till morning. He really wanted some milk.
Maybe they still had some left over cookies from the store. But he doubted it. Dean had liked those cookies. And he had been snacking on them this afternoon after he picked up Sam from school.
Silently, he crept down the stairs. Making sure that his father and brother were both snoring in their beds--if John caught him out of bed, if he was doing hunt prep, there'd be hell to pay. And eating, at this hour? Start polishing the guns, extra laps…that sort of thing. Stuff that Sam wanted to avoid doing with the extra bought of homework before finals. Not that John Winchester cared about that sort of stuff.
But the father was already in bed and Dean was out like a light.
As he wandered down, he caught sight of the snowfall through the window. First fall of the season. He smiled and continued down. The snow was nice.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary here.
If he'd been looking--he would've seen the line of salt had been disturbed…but he wasn't. His father had been there, fixed them up and checked before he gone to bed just the same as he always did.
Sam shivered to himself--it was cold in here. "leave the window open?" he muttered, looking around the room. He shook his head. Maybe they could get a heater in here…he thought to himself continuing on.
And was just about to wander into the kitchen when his hunter hearing perked up. Actually, it was rather loud…if he had been paying attention he would have heard it. But he was tired. And kinda hungry, so there you go.
But he turned, silently. "dad?" he asked silently, looking to the corner where the sound came from.
There hiding in the shadows, was a man. But it was neither John Winchester nor Dean. A stranger stood there, watching Sam rather intently. He raised his finger to his lips, gesturing for the teenager to stay silent--to not give him away.
Oh hell no…
In his hand he held something--but looking around the room, he could see that the man had obviously gone through their living room. Did they even own anything worth stealing? He wondered, but they had a lot of strange valuables. Appealing to a different market…perhaps.
Sam opened his mouth, drawing the air in. "Dad!"
The words were silently gasped. Quick as a flash, the guy was on top of Sam, knocking him over--fingers clasped around his throat. The guy was sitting on his legs, keeping him from kicking and fighting back. Sam clawed against his grip, as it tightened, and between the weight on his body and the grip around his neck, he couldn't breathe…
"Dean!" he gasped again, his nails digging into the man's hand--it worked for a second, his grip loosened. But within seconds, his other hand found his way around Sam's neck.
The guy was going to kill him! Over a few minor objects…
"Shh…" the guy said again, as Sam's vision began to fade and darkness began to cloud his vision. This wasn't…
"Damn it, Sammy." Dean realized that Sam never came back to the bedroom after going to the bathroom. He sighed, and flopped out of bed. The light wasn't on in the adjoining bathroom. A bed/bathroom…that was interesting.
A dull thud resounded from somewhere in the house and he found himself wandering downstairs, the gun he kept under his pillow was in his hand. Something felt off here.