Title: somewhere a clock is ticking [1/?]
Author: alakewood
Warnings: Spoilers for AHBL, but I'm kind of tweaking the end of that episode to better fit my storyline: Sam kills Jake before he has a chance to say anything about being sure that Sam was dead and the little heart-to-heart between Sam and Dean at the end of Part II didn't happen at all. In short, Sam doesn't know that he died and doesn't know that Dean sold his soul.
Rating: PG for now.
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: AU set after AHBL; Sam decides that Dean was right – they should take a break to recuperate.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
oxoxo
It had only been ten days since the Devil's Gate had opened. Ten days since Sam had narrowly escaped death; the blade of the knife Jake had shoved into his back mere millimeters from his spine, according to Dean.
They'd only been on one hunt since – tracked a bunch of omens to find a horde of demons (embodiments of the Seven Sins). He and Dean hadn't had much experience with demons outside of Meg and Yellow-Eyes, and a whole group of them at once was more than they'd bargained for. They'd still managed, but Dean's words from the night Dean had saved him echoed in his mind: "You need to get your rest. We got time....Can't you just take care of yourself for a little bit?" Sam's response had been an adamant No, but as he stood in the shower stall, clutching at his head, praying for the pain to stop, he wished he'd listened to his brother.
He got the first headache a few hours after the first battle of what was sure to be many. Compared the one he was currently experiencing, the other would have been a godsend. The first was just a pressure behind his eyes, a throbbing in his temples – just as they'd been when he'd finally gotten used to the visions. But the one now was like when they'd first started years ago – nearly incapacitating, white-hot pain. Blinding. But the visions never came. Three days, five headaches later, and not a single vision.
oxo
"Sam? You all right?" Dean nudged at Sam's elbow on the armrest with his own.
Sam took a deep, steadying breath and opened his eyes. "Yeah, Dean. Fine." The pain was starting to recede.
Dean's gaze lingered on Sam's blank face for longer than necessary, seemingly debating on whether or not an argument with Sam would actually be worth the effort. Dean sighed and turned his eyes back to the straight stretch of shimmering highway before them.
oxo
Still following the omens, tracking the demons the best they could, the path cut through Kansas three weeks after the gate opened. More than just the omens, there was some sort of inescapable magnetic pull that drew Sam and Dean back to Lawrence.
They were along a desolate, dark span of I70 when Sam was abruptly awoken from his restless sleep by the worst headache to date, accompanied by nausea so intense he had the car door open before Dean had even swerved onto the gravel shoulder.
The small, jagged rocks cut through his jeans as he collapsed to his knees, but the pain was dull compared to the tearing-pulling-burning in his head.
"Sam!" Dean was instantly by his brother's side, strong, sure hands faltering as they fell to Sam's shoulders attempting to soothe.
Sam lost track of the minutes as he retched and dry-heaved, but everything looked much more shadowed as he rocked back to sit on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"What's going on, Sam? And save the bullshit."
Sam spit, shook his head minutely. "I don't know. Headaches are back."
"The visions?"
Another shake. "No. No visions. Just the headaches." He sighed, knowing he had to be completely honest. "They're really bad, Dean."
Dean's laugh at that was short, frustrated. "You don't say." He helped Sam stand. "When did they start?"
"A couple of weeks ago." He paused. "And they've been getting worse."
Dean's jaw twitched as he stared down the empty highway and leaned back against the Impala.
"I should've listened to you when you said I should take some time but...I couldn't, then. With Jake and Yellow-Eyes still out there... And now. This is all my fault. I should've killed Jake when I had the chance and none of this would've happened."
"Yeah. Yellow-Eyes could've got it into your head to open the Devil's Gate. He would've promised you anything to get you to open that door for him. And you know that there's no way I would've been able to kill you. So if this is the way it has to be...?"
oxo
The farmhouse Sam found had probably been beautiful in its day, but had become so rundown that it wasn't in much better shape than some of the condemned houses Sam and Dean had squatted in. It was a gray, rainy day when Dean had taken a brief tour of the grounds with the realtor, who was at a complete loss as to why they would choose such an eyesore when there were perfectly safe houses inside the city limits. Dean had just told her that they preferred their privacy and that he was in search of a project, so the farmhouse would suit them just fine.
All the outbuildings would have to be torn down, doors and windows missing, roofs starting to collapse, walls barely standing. The land wasn't workable; grass only grew near the house, the rest of its seven acres barren and rutted. The scene mirrored the hopelessness Dean felt on the inside.
Sam was standing outside of the car, watching the realtor drive away, when Dean approached him. He didn't smile when he told Sam, "Welcome home."