Title: Harsh Truths and Blunt Observations
Author: Po/She Who Cannot Be Named
Fandoms: Supernatural
Warnings: Sexual relations between two consenting males,
Spoilers: If you know who Gabriel is then you're good to go!
Rating: PG-13 for this part, NC17 in later chapters.
Summary: After releasing Lucifer from Hell, and then being told by Dean that they should split up, Sam's not entirely sure what he should do anymore. He surprised to get a visitor. Not a very welcome visitor either.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this.
Characters/Pairing: Trickster(Gabriel)/Sam
Status: Complete
Word Count: ~12,600 words (total)
Notes: So this is the sequel to Tall Tales and Slight Exaggerations. It's certainly not what I was thinking of when I first considered writing a sequel to this. *snort* Enjoy!
"Yeah, you're right. We can. But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us—love, family, whatever it is—they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. Yeah, we're better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways." - Dean to Sam – The End (5.04)
Sam sighed as he sat, leaning against the door to his motel room. He wasn't entirely sure what to do now that Dean had told him not to return. That they should stay apart. He could sort of see Dean's reasoning, but it still didn't stop the dull pain in his chest whenever he thought about it. Nor did it tell him what to do.
He'd pulled into the nearest town as soon as he had hung up from his brother, and had gotten a room at the first motel he'd come across. Which he was fairly certain was also the only motel that the small town actually had.
And then… then he'd sat outside the room, not entering it, not taking his bags out of his car, and not moving from the spot he now had sat in for the past two or so hours. Still trying to think of what to do. But only actually having Dean's words echoing in his head.
Which wasn't helping him work out a plan on what to do about his small… vessel problem. Though it sort of was helping him keep his mind off said problem.
"Well, don't you look like a bucket of fun?" Sam jerked up and then growled when he saw the Trickster standing in front of him, twizzler in his hand and looking at Sam with a smirk. Though Sam felt he could see a measure of confusion on the Trickster's face as well. Which kind of confused Sam.
"What are you doing here?" Sam spat, and he watched as the Trickster actually gaped at him and then frowned. Well, actually, Sam felt it looked more like he was pouting.
"Actually, the question should be: what are you doing here? I haven't exactly killed anyone." Sam swore he could hear the 'yet' on the end of that. "So why are you here? Why are you hunting me?"
Sam blinked, and was almost positive that the Trickster was whining. Sam was sitting here, watching a powerful god whine. Sam was certain his life had finally broken him and he'd gone insane.
"I'm not hunting you. Though, now that I know you're here. I feel I should. Don't see a damned point though. You're worse than a cockroach." Sam sneered, and the Trickster huffed, before clicking his fingers and making a beanbag chair appear on the floor in front of Sam, and then throwing himself into it. Yeah, Sam had finally snapped and lost his mind.
"I'm not a cockroach. Cut my head off, find out. I can out last those creepy little suckers." Sam just shook his head, not even thinking of replying to that. Even if the temptation was there. It might not kill the thing in front of him (now struggling to open a bag of Reeses pieces) but it would probably make Sam feel a little better for a short while. "Look, why are you all hostile? I brought your brother back, didn't I? What? This is all the thanks I get?"
Sam sighed and shook his head, he didn't even have the energy anymore to argue. Not when he didn't actually get an awful lot of sleep anymore, and still kinda, sorta wanted demon blood. He was ignoring those pangs though.
"What do you want with me?" Sam asked, shoulders slumping as he looked at the Trickster through his fringe.
"Me? I was just passing by to, you know, leave a horses head in the bed of the lovely owner of this place (did ya check your room, by the way? He's not exactly known for, well, anything actually) when I spot your sorry self and suddenly got the urge to kill all lambs."
"It didn't work the first damn time, why try again?" Sam asked, before he sighed heavily and shifted to let his head fall back against the wall. "I'm not here on a hunt."
"Really?" The Trickster said, clearly not believing Sam and narrowing his eyes at him. Sam shook his head, and then felt his lips twitch into a smile when he saw the Trickster huff and throw the (still unopened) bag of candy to the side. "So why are you here then?"
"Don't know. I'm… I don't know why I'm here. Feel free to do what you like here. I won't tell anyone that you're here. No one to tell." Sam admitted with a shrug, once more trying to ignore the hollow feeling that admittance brought with it.
"Not that brother of yours?" The Trickster asked, and Sam shook his head as he reached over and snatched up the bag, opening it with ease. "Oi!"
"You threw them away. Three second rule. And no, I won't tell Dean. Or Bobby. And every other hunter is more likely to kill me first before actually listening to what I have to say. Apparently letting the devil out of Hell is a bad thing in my circle." Sam muttered dryly, shoving some candy in his mouth and munching on them.
"Yeah, you might not want to advertise that. Not just hunters that would be a little shirty about that. Apparently the Devil really isn't all that popular. Go figure." The Trickster said, making a lolly appear with a snap of his fingers after throwing one last mournful look to the bag in Sam's hands. "So, Deano isn't too pleased with you either?"
"No. Why are you here again? I mean, still. You've found out that I'm not going to tell you. And that, through a want to actually live, I won't tell any other hunters. Why are you still talking to me? Actually, why aren't you killing me? I don't think I'm in a position to stop you." Sam admitted, just proving to himself just how mentally challenged he clearly was.
"Meh, I'm cutting back on the whole killing thing. Getting stabbed kinda hurts, you know? So I go my way and you go yours then?" The Trickster said, and Sam just shrugged, finishing the rest of the candy and then balling the bag up and putting it in his pocket. He'd already brought the world to an end, no use making it worse by littering. Sam snorted at that that thought and shook his head.
"Sure, do what you like. I won't stop you. Mind if I stay here tonight if I promise to be out your hair by morning? I just need to work out where I'm going next." Sam admitted with a shrug, running his hands through his hair. He looked up and saw the Trickster staring at him in contemplation.
"Aren't you heading back to Dean? What are you doing here alone, anyway?" He asked, and Sam snorted derisively and then sighed and moved his knees to hug them against his chest.
"Nah, he told me to stay away, so I'm staying away. Dean is one of the ones that isn't too impressed with me. Apparently he met his limit of how much he could forgive me for." Sam admitted, glancing up to see the Trickster just looking at him closely.
"And what? You think you should be forgiven? I mean, you did sort of let Lucifer out of Hell. That's kinda bad." Sam grinned, self-hatred evident in his eyes.
"No, I don't think he should forgive me. Just… I dunno, I sort of wish it didn't mean he hated me. But, you don't get what you wish for, ever. Plus, I suppose I deserve it, you know? Doesn't make it stop sucking though. Not entirely sure I can do anything to make this better or get penance for it." Sam admitted, picking at his nails just so that he didn't have to look at the Trickster.
"Huh. That… wasn't actually the answer I was expecting. How come you haven't screamed at me yet? You're not exactly acting like someone who hates me." The Trickster pointed out and Sam huffed before looking up at the god.
"I don't hate you. Sure, you tricked me, killed Dean multiple times and fucked me before making me think we'd killed you, but… I don't hate you for it. Not to say I like you, because I really don't. But yeah, I don't hate you. I don't think I have to energy to hate anyone anymore." Sam admitted with a snicker, which was possibly brought on by lack of sleep. Or really, really poor sleep.
"Huh. You keep surprising me, Winchester. I'll give you that. So what's your plan now then?" The Trickster asked, and Sam honestly didn't actually know the answer to that.
"I wanted a semi-normal life, away from hunting, once. But, well… that's never gonna happen, is it? So I suppose I'll just do what I was raised to do and look for hunts. Try to make up for my mistakes. Try to stop Lucifer." Sam finally said after having thought about it for a moment.
"How exactly, are you planning on doing that?" The Trickster asked, a look of pure disbelief on his face.
"Not a clue. Any ideas?"
"Er… don't? Kid, he's the Devil, it's not like he's gonna go down with any of your usual weapons." Sam narrowed his eyes at the Trickster in front of him, before deciding what the hell.
"Say I had the knowledge of a gun that would work on demons. Killed them with one bullet. Think that would work on Lucifer?" Sam asked, though he wasn;t actually sure what the Trickster could tell him.
"Ah, Colt's Colt? Yeah, won't work, Kid. He ain't a demon, is he? He's an Archangel. Not like just anything can kill 'em." The Trickster told him and Sam felt his whole self deflate.
"Huh. I guess that answers your first question then, don't it? I'm gonna do fuck all, because there's fuck all I can do." Sam mumbled, scowling at the floor, before looking up at the god in front of him.
"I don't like that look. Why are you looking at me like that, Kiddo?" The Trickster asked, looking at Sam warily.
"You. You're a god. You're powerful. Can't you help me?" Sam asked, and had the pleasure of seeing the mouthy Trickster, speechless. "Well?"
"I'm a monster, Kid. You're supposed to be trying to kill me, not ask for my help!" The Trickster exclaimed, and Sam just snorted and shook his head.
"Right now? I think most would see me as more of a monster than you. You're just doing what you were created to do," Sam pointed out, missing the wince from the Trickster in front of him, "but I drained a demon of it's blood, betrayed my brother and finally let Lucifer out of Hell. Not entirely sure God had that in mind when he created humans."
"Huh, good reasons. Sam… Look, I can't help you, Kid. I'm not what you think I am. And this war—"
"Let me guess, it's Christian and you're not, so it doesn't involve you?" Sam guessed, and the Trickster shrugged with a sigh.
"Yeah."
"Fair enough. Can't really blame you. I don't particularly want to be involved in it myself, but seeing as the whole damned thing is my fault, it'd really be shitty of me to not be involved." Sam said with a snort, before shaking his head and standing up, wincing as the blood rushed back into his legs.
"You're not gonna beg me? I'm kinda disappointed." The Trickster said with a wicked grin, getting a smaller one back from Sam. The Trickster then got up from his own chair and clicked it away.
"I'm not gonna beg you, no. Like I said, I'm not going to bring anyone into this that doesn't want to be. Just… you do know you're not gonna remain safe, right? He's gonna turn his attentions to you eventually." Sam told him sadly, and the Trickster shrugged before taking a step back.
"Perhaps so, Sam. Guess I'll just have to deal with that when it happens." The Trickster said with a sad smile, and Sam just nodded.
"Guess so. I'll be out of your hair in the morning. Don't worry, I promise that I won't tell anyone you're here. Night, Trickster." Sam muttered, finally unlocking and opening his door, not that he actually would sleep.
"Night, Sammy. And called me Loki." The Trickster told him, and then left with a snap of his fingers. Sam decided that he'd grab his laptop from the car and research a hunt, then keep his other promise and leave in the morning.
The yelling of the motel manager early the next morning was Sam's cue to leave the town and move on to the hunt that he'd found only an hour or so before. Though he did feel a tickle of amusement when he passed the hysterical manager wailing about the Mafia coming after him.
Dean was right, the Trickster, or Loki, apparently, had style.