Title: Back to Work
Fandom: Reaper
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Sam learns the true meaning of power.
Word Count: 3,915
Disclaimer: Reaper is not mine and neither is Star Wars or any of the other films mentioned here.
A/N: Inspired by discussions at TwoP where we wondered what it would be like if Sam discovered he had a superpower and could use it. Best fandom ever. Special thanks to Loandbehold.
It all started with an air conditioner.
Well, the shopping cart really but that wasn't nearly as cool. On the day Sam Oliver turned twenty one he went to work and pushed a shopping cart without touching it. Fine. That was weird, but it wasn't much of a story to tell and it wouldn't qualify him for the Justice League. But flying through the air and moving a two hundred pound air conditioner out of the way of your girlfriend's vulnerable and crushable head?
That was priceless.
Really he should have known it then, but many times over since that day, Sam moved things with his mind. Sometimes while reaping, sometimes at the Bench, but always when he wasn't thinking about it. He would just act when a threat appeared or something came at him -- throw a soul against a building, toss Sock into a Christmas display, deflect a falling washing machine. He never stopped to think about it and he never reflected upon it after, because the truth scared him a little. But maybe that was just what superheroes did, he thought, they saw danger and they acted, without a second thought.
Action. It was the difference between the player in the stadium and everyone else in the stands. Sam was a player now. He could take action.
If he were to admit it to himself Sam denied the truth for a long time, looking everywhere but the mirror for an explanation. He blamed it on the Devil, he blamed it on Cady, but after Tony and the other demons tried to kill him, Sam realized he had no one to blame but himself for the things he could do. These were his powers, for whatever reason. He would give them back in a minute if it meant he could learn the truth about his parents and their deal with the Devil, but that was one thing he had no power over.
For now, he was still expected to capture souls, so at least he had a weapon.
After his father's funeral, Sam decided to put his energies into making things happen at will. He focused, he concentrated, he gave himself a headache and after a week, he intentionally moved a toaster to the end of the counter in his apartment. Sock thought it was so cool that he started throwing things at him at random, until Sam threatened to turn his underwear drawer into a bathtub filled with beers of the world.
"C'mon," said Sock, "You've got the power of The Force! I can train you! I can be your Yoda. Let me be your Yoda."
Sam had to admit it was a good idea. He wasn't about to be attacked by toasters. Bad guys moved and he had a demon army after him now. He had to be prepared.
"Okay, fine," agreed Sam. "But only when I tell you to. No more catching me off guard."
Sock bowed, "Yes, young Master Luke. Control the power of The Force, you will."
"And shut up with that, you sound like a dork," said Sam, but inside he had to admit that being Luke Skywalker was even cooler than Batman, and Han Solo was cooler than the both of them.
This had the potential of awesomeness.
They practiced together for an hour or more a day, often with Ben's help. After dozens of cracked eggs, a broken lamp and one near beheading, Sam eventually graduated from inanimate toasters to stopping a flying kitchen knife. Sam nearly had a heart attack over that one. The first real knife Sock threw at him spun end over end circus act style until Sam put his hands up and stopped it cold in mid-air. He didn't know how he did it; he only knew he wanted to avoid being impaled at all costs. It was sheer desperation and a desire to not die, the traits that have kept Sam alive since turning twenty-one and taking on the most unconventional job ever.
Shortly after that a customer at the Work Bench leaned against a plasma TV on display and nearly sent the three thousand dollar set crashing to the ground. Sam stopped it as it tipped, setting it back upright from twenty feet away so subtly that the customer walked off without even realizing what he had almost done. It was so easy that Sam didn't even think about it until Ben came up to him pie-eyed.
"Sam, if Ted had seen that, you'd have gotten a raise," said Ben. "You can totally work this."
But Sam wasn't about to become employee of the month, not when his boss was Ted. To prove it, later that day Sam boxed Ted in with filing cabinets that moved with him as his boss tried to walk to the bathroom. Sam, Sock and Ben snickered from behind the counter as Ted checked his pockets for magnets and tried to do an end run around one storage unit, falling backwards onto his ass like a cartoon character in a video game. Not satisfied, Sam later chased Ted down the plumbing aisle with flying rolls of toilet paper.
By the end of the day, Ted was telling anyone who would listen that the Bench had its very own poltergeist. Sock, loving it, suggested an exorcism.
"You've been given a gift Sam and you use it to act infantile," Andi scolded, though there was an undeniable smirk as she said it. Luckily for Sam, Andi found infantile sexy.
"I'm sorry Andi, but it's Ted," Sam argued as they watched Ted hang crystals and garlic from his office door as Sock looked on. "How could I not?"
"Hey Tedster, isn't garlic for warding off vampires?" asked Sock as he munched on a churro, admiring Ted's many and varied protective charms.
"Better safe than sorry my friend," said Ted. "We don't know what we're dealing with here so I'm shooting with both barrels if you know what I mean."
Sock could barely contain himself relaying the exchange to Sam. "You are an evil genius my man. If you're not Devil spawn you should be."
"Thanks," said Sam. "Maybe we can convince Ted that the Bench is built over an Indian burial ground and he needs to move it."
Andi's better nature wanted to speak up but the next day her highly attuned practical joker side won out. She just had to see what would happen if Ted's desk supplies were to float out of reach above his head and Sam just couldn't say no. Ted threw the crystals away and called a priest who suggested psychological counseling.
But after two days Sam stopped anyway. He went home that night and crashed heavily on the sofa, feeling like he'd run a marathon. Drained, his muscles ached and he felt a Bench sized headache coming on. Sam went to bed and slept for twelve hours straight. Telekinesis took more energy than he thought. He'd have to build up his endurance.
He told himself he would limit the use of his powers to once a day and work up, but he broke that promise a day later when Ted ordered the three of them to move bags of cement mix to a new display area. It was harder than Sam thought it would be but still a hell of a lot easier than lifting them on and off a hand truck. Bag by bag they floated to their chosen location, stacked neatly at the end of the aisle. Ben kept lookout while Sock ate pork rinds and placed bets on two bags that raced one another.
Unfortunately this backfired when they finished the job so quickly that Ted gave them more to do, and this time he split them up, putting Sock and Ben to work in the garden center and Sam in lumber. As Sock and Ben sweated and groaned under bags of topsoil, Sam was lying in a patio recliner, moving two by fours with his mind. That was when the bitterness started to creep in.
After closing, Sam entered the break room yawning as he pulled the blue apron over his head.
"I'm beat," he said.
Sock and Ben glared in stereo. "Aw, I'm sorry Captain America," said Sock. "It must be pure torture having to think so much. Us pack mules wouldn't know."
Sam looked at his friend. "What's your problem? You think this is easy?"
"It sure looked easy," muttered Ben.
"Well it's not," said Sam. "Okay it is, but not as easy as you think. And anyway, this is all just practice for when I need it."
"Why don't you just admit that you like it Sam?" said Sock. "You like being a Stephen King wet dream."
"Okay, I wouldn't have said it like that but yeah, sometimes," said Sam. "But you thought it was cool too, and this is going to make capturing escaped souls so much easier. I can do it by myself now, no more putting yourselves in danger over my stupid job."
Ben's jaw dropped. "You're firing us?"
"No," said Sam, backtracking. "No, you can still help out. It's just… my father's dead… because of me and the trouble that I got into with the demons. This is about more than just capturing souls now. I have enemies. I don't want any more deaths on my conscience. I'm learning to defend myself so I can go it alone."
"Sam, bro, slow down," said Sock. "How many times do we have to drill it into your thick skull that we don't care?"
"Well you should care!" said Sam. "You only get one life and you'll be lucky if you don't wind up spending eternity in hell like me! Now I've got some real power. I can do this. You can help me research, help figure out where the soul's going to strike next but I'm gonna be the one on the front lines -- just me and anything that's not nailed down."
As he spoke his final words Sam flung out an arm for emphasis in the direction of the lockers. The doors flew open and Sam's jacket shot out into his waiting hand. He threw down his apron, stormed out and left Sock and Ben staring in his wake.
When Sam walked out of the Work Bench he found himself not in the parking lot, but standing in the balcony of an old movie theatre. Seated to his right in the third row was The Devil, munching popcorn in an empty auditorium and watching Plan Nine from Outer Space, arguably the worst sci-fi film ever made.
"I like the way you handled Beevis and Butthead back there Sammy," he said. "You're a lone wolf, very sexy. Who needs friends when you've got power, that's what I say."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I thought you were giving me time off."
"Well I did," he replied, "and judging by the way you're throwing lockers around I'd say you're itching to get back to work. Am I wrong?"
He wasn't wrong. Sam had to admit he had grown bored and a part of him wanted to collect souls again, anxious to try out his new mind moving action on the job and not just for pranks. Sometimes he wondered if The Devil was a mind reader, his timing always seemed a little too perfect. Sam sighed and sat down next to the owner of his soul and helped himself to some of his popcorn.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"This is the soul's favourite hangout," The Devil explained. "Classic B movies are his gig, a real monster junkie, so much so that he became one himself."
"A monster?" scoffed Sam. "What like The Blob?"
"That will be for you to figure out," said The Devil, "Hector likes to mix it up, keep things interesting. In life he was a producer of low budget monster movies. He sold his soul to me for a box office blockbuster. Shame he didn't live to see it."
"Fine, no problem," said Sam, reaching for the file.
"Whoa, someone sounds confident. You so sure you can take this guy?"
"Yeah, I got it," said Sam, impatient to end the conference. "Where's the vessel?"
"All right hot shot," he smiled, handing him the box, "I guess there's nothing you can't handle now right?"
As soon as Sam's hands were on the container, the Devil was gone. He opened the lid of the wooden box and removed a small flip video camera only slightly bigger than an iPod.
Sam met up with Sock and Ben at the Brick and by then his friends each had a few beers in them and had forgotten all about their fight at work. Sam showed them the file and the vessel.
"Okay, so what's the plan?" asked Sock.
"The plan is we find movie theatres that show classic B movies and we'll find our soul. The Devil said he likes to hang out there. There can't be too many of those," said Sam.
"So we'll split up, check them all out at one time," said Sock.
"Wait no," said Sam. "You just get me the list of theatres, I'll check them out. I told you, I can get the soul."
"You were serious about that?" asked Ben.
"Yes I was serious, this'll be a cinch now," said Sam, lazily flicking his wrist causing the empty chair next to him to slide out for Andi who was joining them.
As she sat, Ben and Sock exchanged uneasy looks and the subject was dropped.
It was the last place he checked, an old style theatre with a single box office out front that showed decades-old classics for 1.50 admission. Sam paid for his ticket and went inside to find the auditorium empty but for one patron that matched the image of the man in his file. Attack of the 50ft Woman played on the screen, one of those bits of artistic expression for which the producer should have been ashamed of himself. Sam stepped lightly down the aisle, taking a seat directly behind Hector, who seemed engrossed.
"I hope your movie was better than this crap," Sam said and began to raise and aim the vessel.
Before he could press the record button Hector turned and an arm shot out and grabbed Sam by the throat. The arm did not match this squirrely little man at all; it was large, green and scaly and had sharp claws that Sam could feel digging into his skin. The vessel came loose from Sam's hand and fell somewhere beneath the rows of seats.
As Sam grabbed for his neck the grip loosened. Falling back in his seat, he watched as Hector grew before his eyes, transforming from a human to a living monster – Godzilla to be exact – in all his fire breathing glory and nearly the full height of the two story auditorium.
The soul waved his arms and let out a fierce roar and Sam dove to the floor, scrambling to find the vessel in the dim theatre lighting. He felt around but couldn't see it anywhere while above him Godzilla was blasting long plumes of flame, singeing the tops of the seats. Sam knew the soul was too big for him to move, he didn't have that kind of power, so he looked around for anything he could throw at him, and then cursed himself for getting cornered in a movie theatre where the seats were all bolted down. He doubted he could lift the seats but he had to try something or he was barbecue, so all at once he stood and raised his hands to levitate anything he could and send it in the soul's direction.
Sam felt a keen pang of humiliation when he saw dozens of empty popcorn bags, candy boxes and drink cups rise up and stand at attention like a junk food army. Having nothing better at his disposal, Sam flung his arms at the soul and pelted him with the entire arsenal of rubbish. Apart from being a minor nuisance the soul was hardly bothered. He swatted the trash away and continued his advance. Sam went through the rows, lifting and tossing more garbage… and that was when he saw the vessel.
It hung there in formation among the wrappers and trays like a fellow soldier ready to do battle. Sam was so surprised to see it there he broke concentration and then watched in horror as it fell again, back into the void of the dark sticky floor. Forgetting the soul for a moment, Sam dove for it head first over the seats but he only made it halfway. Godzilla shot a full on blast and Sam's right arm was on fire.
Sam pulled back screaming, his sleeve in flames. Running for the carpeted aisle, he dropped and rolled until the flames were out. After he lay in the aisle panting, his arm in searing pain clutched against his chest, useless, and the vessel still well out of reach. The soul roared in triumph, stamping his enormous feet and crushing the first row of seats. With black smoke billowing from his nostrils, Godzilla came closer. Sam closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle.
"Hey, monster man! Your zipper's showing!"
Sam's eyes shot open again at the sound of his best friend's voice. With one hand, he pushed himself up to look. Sock was here, like a mirage, standing down front near the emergency exit, taunting Godzilla with hand gestures and insults. To his left Sam saw Ben, quietly trolling the seats in search of the vessel.
Sam wanted to help Ben but he didn't want to attract the soul's attention. Sock was doing his best to divert the monster as Ben searched and it seemed to be working; the soul was confused, looking back and forth between Sam and Sock, who by now was chucking popcorn at the soul and trash talking his mother. Furious, the soul raised his head and let out a cry and a tongue of fire that lit the curtains above. The soul's anger grew at Sock's taunts until he reached down and ripped out a pair of seats, throwing them out into the theatre and missing a frightened Ben by inches. Pulling up another seat and raising it over his head, the soul turned towards Sock. Suddenly, Sam saw his opportunity to help.
Godzilla threw the seat at Sock. From his spot on the floor Sam lifted his good arm and stopped the seat in midair, then sent it back towards the monster's own head. The seat pelted him between the eyes and he screamed as Sock cheered.
"Tokyo is saved! Take that salamander!"
But their rejoicing was short lived. Ben had yet to find the vessel and now the soul remembered Sam. Ignoring Sock, the monster turned and started off stomping up the aisle towards a charred and pinned Sam. Sam scrambled backwards a few feet and tried to get up but the soul was getting closer, causing a minor earthquake with his steps and belching fire. He'd be on him in seconds. From behind the monster Sam heard Sock still trying to get the soul's attention but failing miserably now. The soul had lost interest in Sock and now only had eyes for Sam -- the one he knew had come to send him back to hell.
Sam knew he couldn't get away and the monster was too powerful but he had to try something, so in desperation he put up his hand and tried to at least create some sort of barrier to hold him back. Sam felt the resistance rebound as the monster struck the barrier. It was like trying to stop a speeding train. It felt like he was being crushed. He strained and groaned, clenching his teeth and holding on, maintaining an opposing force to keep the soul at bay. He felt all the energy being pulled from his body, draining him like a dying battery. He was losing it, about to let go, he couldn't stand it another second…
…then the monster started to glow.
The soul let out the most horrible of all screams and went nuclear white. Sam dropped his arm heavily along with the barrier and he watched as Ben standing alongside him, captured the soul with the video camera vessel.
Sam fell back to the floor again. His body was lead. He was too tired to move, to speak or even to moan over the pain in his burned arm.
"You came…" he muttered up at Ben and Sock who immediately joined them.
"Of course we came," said Sock, kneeling down beside him. "Did you think we'd listen to you? You're an idiot."
Sam smiled, "I couldn't… I needed you guys."
"Yeah we know," said Ben, pocketing the vessel and reaching down, "but right now you need a hospital."
Sock and Ben lifted Sam up and half walked, half carried him out the door.
"Benjy?" said Sock.
"What?"
"When we get to the ER, let's just leave out the part about telekinesis fatigue okay?" said Sock.
"And the Godzilla monster," Sam pointed out.
"Yeah that too," agreed Sock.
The greatest thing about best friends is that they know when you've been an ass and they don't make you say it to make it up to them.
"I was an ass."
Sam felt the need to say it anyway, but both Ben and Sock shrugged it off. Stocking the shelves at work, Sam was handing them light bulbs one handed, his right arm in a sling. He could have levitated them but for now his superpowers were voluntarily shelved until absolutely necessary.
"Anyway, I'm sorry I got carried away," said Sam.
"I've been the King of Asses for too long now," said Sock. "It was about time someone took my crown. The mother was getting heavy. Besides, it was worth it."
"How's that?" asked Sam.
"Those were some of the best pranks on Ted I have ever seen. Seriously, classic. I don't think he'll ever recover."
As Sock spoke, the three looked over at Ted, skittishly exiting his office and glancing in every direction for invisible predators. In the distance, Sam saw Andi approach pushing a cartful of returns for restocking. A metal tool box slid off the top of the pile and fell to the floor. Sam went over to help her pick it up and as their hands met on the handle they smiled.
"Nothing like the old fashioned way," said Sam, handing her the box.
"Thanks Sam," she said, taking it and placing it back in the cart. "I'm glad you're okay."
Sam nodded, suddenly feeling the urge to talk to someone. "Do you want to take your break?"
She agreed and they walked together to get coffee in the snack bar. "How does it feel not being a superhero anymore?" she asked him.
Sam stared at his cup, trying to find the words. "When I was… doing all those things before, it felt like I was someone else, and for a while that was fun. I could forget everything that sucks about being me, forget that my soul was damned to hell, forget that demons were after me, forget that my father was dead. I could just be… "
"Normal?" said Andi, smiling.
Sam laughed. "Yeah, I know. Ironic. I'll never be normal, Andi. But it's good to just be me again."