Happy New Year to all of you! I hope the holidays treated you well!
While I had not really intended to do fic anymore, this just sort of happened. I can honestly say I've never written anything like this before. I guess I should call it limp!Sam, but, maybe that's not the appropriate term. It certainly falls in line with that category… you'll have to see. :D This is the teaser chapter. Sorry…
And, I've decided I'm on crack, and that's what I thought this fic was going to be. Strangely enough, the more I researched it, the more it actually became legit. All the mythology is true (at least, as far as a 'myth' can be 'true').
I should fess up that this is actually based on a whacked-out dream (thus the crack part – please don't send me your card if you're a psychiatrist! I already know I'm nuts!). After talking with Geminigrl11 about it, she convinced me to write it. Then I chatted with TraSan and she helped me rework some of the ideas.
It is complete I just haven't finished rehashing all the wonderful beta work by Gem yet, who is simply amazing. I also would not have completed this insanity without the constant harassment and encouragement of TraSan. I am so incredibly lucky to have such wonderful people to help me. Any additional errors are purely mine.
Sadly, the boys and the Impala are not. Not making money (egads, who'd pay for this!)
It's been a while since I've posted, so I'm a little nervous about this. I appreciate all reviews, drive-bys and PMs.
On with the crack!
:D
Caroline
-o-o-o-o-o-
A quick turn around the corner and there it was, a beautifully carved ancient looking chest, staring Sam in the face.
"Huh. Didn't see that before." Sam placed his 9mm in the back of his jeans and regarded the insta-chest cautiously from afar.
The rest of the room held mostly Greek treasures and trinkets – this hidden museum of timeworn history. A contact of Bobby's had told him about the storeroom, thinking there might be something here to help Dean out of the deal; something about crossing cultures to confuse the demons. At least, that's what Bobby said. It was worth a shot, in any case. They were running low on time, so they followed up on every lead that didn't involve Sam dropping dead on the spot. This one seemed like a no-brainer.
The shelves were caked with dust and the last of the sunlight twinkled through the curtained windows, illuminating the particles that flitted in the air. Sam heard Dean's footsteps above as he checked the upper loft, hoping that the Holy Grail was theirs to find and that their luck would finally take a turn for the better.
Sam continued his perusal of the room, hungrily taking in the artifacts, awed at the stories that must be behind them. Not to mention their value. Clearly, someone had felt the need to keep them out of the public domain, which deemed them a different kind of priceless. The statutes and paintings were exquisite and certainly belonged in a real museum, but if they were hidden, there was a reason.
Which brought him back to that mysterious chest.
It sat there - this Pandora's Box - taunting Sam to open it. He knew better than to be tempted, but it was like a siren song pulling Sam to the shore, ready to crash and burn into the rocks. The hunter approached it cautiously, unsure what to do when he arrived at its side. Just a quick peek inside. It won't harm anything. Were those even his words? Why was this chest so alluring?
He tripped on his gargantuan feet, now feeling a tug – a need - that he couldn't explain. It felt like he had little command over his limbs as they slowly inched towards the prize.
Everything is in here for a reason.
"No. There's something wrong." Sam stopped; his mind clearing briefly as he overcame the desire to rip the trunk open and unleash the riches inside. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself as he continued to eye the artifact suspiciously.
Oh, yes... YOU are the one...finally…
The room closed in on him, darkening his vision with a frightening swiftness. A chill crawled up Sam's spine; feeling another presence in the area forcing a shiver. His eyes never strayed far from the chest and the draw began again -- stronger, rougher than before. Sam tried to stand his ground, but his feet literally dragged on the floor as he moved towards the chest. What was so special about this ancient vessel? Why did it want him to open it?
"Sam? Did you say something?" The sharp call from above snapped Sam's hypnosis for only a moment before the unseen force began violently wrapping its fierce tendrils even deeper; strangling the mental barrier Sam was erecting to keep it out. He couldn't breathe.
"De.." Almost a whisper, barely a cry. Certainly not loud enough to elicit the Big Brother response he needed now.
The struggle continued. He tried with all his might, but Sam couldn't fight it. It told him he couldn't fight it. A cloudiness overtook him as he got closer and closer, feeling the power emanating from the coffer. It was only a few feet in front of him now and soon he'd know the beauty of what was inside. The contents were the most important thing to him…
"I can't…"
Sam's brow exploded with sweat as he gave one last-ditch effort, knowing that whatever was inside should not be let out. That somehow, he would have to stop it, no matter what.
This is what Bobby warned them about; these items were dangerous.
Sam's clothes stuck to his chest like a second skin, drenching the cotton instantly as he continued to clash against the unnatural draw. His vision swam and he closed his eyes at the onslaught to his senses. Then, all at once, something broke inside of him; tore his soul into a million pieces as his body lunged for the box, his will no longer his own.
The young hunter blanketed the chest, felt every knob, hinge and decoration jabbing into his massive frame. It seemed to pulse inexplicably beneath him like a living being. His hand fell to the side, grasping for the locking mechanism, slicing his finger on an unusually sharp edge. He felt the bolt between his fingers, cold and hard from years of untold abuse. His body slid to the ground in front of the chest, regarding the task at hand. Watching through glassy eyes at what was going on around him.
The lock seemed to vibrate in anticipation as he grasped it, feeling the secret to releasing the cargo slowly filtering into his mind. A thousand pinpricks attacked his skull, violating his sense of being. Sam was a prisoner in his own body as the fog of deception addled his brain.
Then he heard it – the clump clump of boots coming down the stairs. A buried part of his soul jolted at the sound of salvation but could do nothing to alert his brother of the dangers about to be released.
Foreign words penetrated his mind as he spoke in a tongue long-dead. He lifted the lock, smearing a droplet of blood from his wound in the process. Sam's other hand cupped the latch, pressing flesh to the metal.
"Sam?"
Sam panicked and continued to spout the dialect faster; his lips pronouncing the spell with ease, as if it were second nature.
"Sam! Get away from that. What the hell are you doing?" The voice betrayed the fear it held as strong arms tried to yank him from the chest. But the entity attached to this reliquary was not letting go of Sam. Not until it got what it wanted.
And then the lock disengaged.
A thick, yellow smoke seeped menacingly from the trunk, enveloping the youngest Winchester in a swirling mass, tossing Dean aside like an old shoe. Sam gasped in awareness as he watched the haze come at him from all positions, finally back in control after completing the task assigned to his body. It regarded Sam for only a moment, verifying its decision before the hunter's torso stiffened -- the invasion taking hold.
It shrouded him like netting, capturing Sam's spirit. He couldn't move or breathe; his eyes closed as if in communication with the being on a higher plain. All sound was blocked; no light, but a soft smell almost like vanilla permeated the air.
The vapor dispersed as quickly as it came. Sam stayed upright for a few seconds before he angled for the ground, crashing violently to the wooden floor.
"Sammy! No!"
-o-o-o-
Dean watched the inevitable collapse in slow motion, mist dissipating around his brother, leaving a distinct odor in its wake. He raced to his sibling's side, checking for a pulse and sighing in relief when he found it strong. Pulling his immense brother into his arms, he started the soft coos of comfort, wondering what the hell had happened in the few minutes they were apart.
"It's okay, Sammy. I gotcha." The mantra continued as he studied his brother for any additional signs of abnormality, pushing back his chestnut hair and feeling for bumps and scratches. Obviously, something had occurred, and it wasn't good. Anytime anything attacked his brother, there'd be hell to pay!
And where the hell did that chest come from anyway? Dean didn't remember seeing it upon their arrival. What was Sam doing with it?
Sam stirred, brow furrowed in concentration, but his eyes remained closed.
"Come on, Sam. Open your eyes for me." Dean coaxed his brother, willing him to be alright; at least alright enough to figure out what was going on with this damn trunk and why it attacked him.
Sam continued to struggle for alertness, reaching a hand for Dean's shirt and pulling it to him with a clenched fist. Searching for comfort in their world of chaos.
"Dean…sorry."
At that, Dean's heart dropped, knowing that the scenario couldn't be good. "Nothing to be sorry for, Sammy. But we gotta get out of here and away from this damn box. So, you have to open your eyes and let me know that you're ready to go." The panic was carefully masked in his voice.
Eyelids fluttered and endeavored to open. Small slits finally made themselves known as Dean watched his brother fighting off the ambush of confusion. A few minutes later, Dean cajoled them to half-mast.
"Sam? You with me? What's going on?" Dean looked at his brother, waiting for the final stages of waking. Right now, the most important thing was getting Sam out of there and away from the chest. With a final shake, he was able to get the response he needed from Sam, blinking back his disbelief at what he saw as he came awake. "No! You're not…"
"What is it? Dean?"
Dean sat Sam up against the chest, forgetting that it might still be dangerous, but hoping whatever damage it had to do was finished. He involuntarily scooted back a bit, looking again at Sam, only to see a glaze of gold perched in his irises.
"Sam, your eyes are yellow."