I almost forgot about this story, well, forgot to post it here, it was my last contribution to the oh so long ago summer of sam love-fest over at lj, so it's naturally all about little Sammy ;) ... It is a missing scene for the episode 5x01, Sam just told Bobby what he did, then left the hotel room to look for some books (someone please say "oh Sam" now ... I so did) ... but since this is Sam and he is sad, looking at books is harder then it should be ... enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine ... I think
Spoilers: up to 5x01 (duh)
word count: 2414
GOT THE BLUES
A supernatural fan fiction
written by rainyrocket
It's the ninth of May and the year is 2009. Sam Winchester is standing in the middle of a motel room looking at his brother for support, but Dean Winchester is too busy doing his own standing and looking thing. Standing above Sam, looking down at him.
So Sam Winchester leaves, leaves Bobby and Dean to -
- to what exactly? To talk about their feelings?
To figure out how to deal with -
(me)
- the situation?
The door slams shut and Sam bends his head, looks at his feet, kicked out by his family once again.
He sniffs thinking maybe he's getting a cold.
Sam laughs, at 2:53 this morning he started the apocalypse and all he gets was a cold. A cold and a brother who refuses to talk to him, who rather watches some unfunny comedian on tv. Sam can hear the chatter on the corridor, Dean must have turned the box on again, imagines him and Bobby sitting laughing on the bed. Sam's hand wanders towards the door, fingertips heavy on the doorknob, he wants to barge in, he wants to join in into their laughter -
A push of the handle and Sam's back into the room.
It's silent, Bobby and Dean still standing there, looking at him, brows furrowed, no laughter from nowhere. Sam's irritated, he's looking around, not moving. A guy with a giggling brunette in his arms is bypassing their room, the brunette's shoulder stroking Sam's back as she stumbles into him, giggling a "sorry" while taking off.
Sam's close behind her, leaving her and her boyfriend after the second turn on the corridor. He's moving fast, he has done enough standing and staring for one day, but hey, maybe that's what happens when it's apocalypse now.
o ~ o ~ o ~ o
The church is looking worn. The pine-wood door has tiny holes, the window frames are slowly rotting away around the colourful saints burned into the glass, facing the innocent, the people strong enough to believe, good enough for their prayers to be heard.
So ruined it for 'em.
Sam hesitates, waits for the lightning to strike him if he dares to enter. No one's bothering to do so, but then he also doesn't enter. The key is rattling, a hollow noise into the old wood.
"What the hell?" Sam mutters, putting more force on the knob.
No chance, the door doesn't stir, Sam though does, goes around the old building, watching the saints frozen in place on the high windows.
A two-story house comes into sight, built close to the church, a car is parked outside, the hood open -
"Hello - " Sam yells, unintentionally. He hasn't seen any people for the last ten minutes -
"Hello - "
A news magazine is flying around on the street, wind's ruffling through Sam's hair.
"Hello - "
No car sounds, no voices, no children laughing, no mothers scowling.
"Hello - "
Great. Satan already ate up the world and forgot to invite Sam. How rude.
"Hello - "
Sam sniffs, yes, definitely a cold, the wind gets stronger and the world seems to grow more silent the more Sam was yelling.
"Hell - "
"Yes, I'm coming." A door shuts and Sam turns, seeing a man standing at the back door of the church, wearing working clothes and holding a screwdriver in his left hand
"What are you hollering like that, boy? You gonna wake the dead."
"I'm not sure," Sam says, his voice muffled by the stronger growing wind. "I, I mean - "
Sam tries a smile.
"I'm ... why is the church closed?"
"Well," the man says, walking down a small stone landing.
"We hadn't had much business lately, city closed us down."
"No one was coming by anymore?"
"Apart from the bingo ladies I'm afraid not, bad times for prayers, I guess."
"You got no idea - "
"What'd you say?"
"Nothing much."
"Boy, first you yelling bloody murder and now you ... oh well, never mind, guess that's what my profession does to people."
The man bends down, puts the screwdriver among his working tools, and graps a wrench.
"So, you the priest here?" Sam says.
"Yeah, guess I still am," the man says, scratching his nose. "Though according to the city council I'm just the janitor John Hurt."
"Sorry 'bout that."
"Hardly your fault, boy, and just 'cause the church is out of business doesn't mean He is."
"Hm - "
Sam looks away. Enough staring and standing Sam reminds himself.
"So, uhm, I, I was hoping to take a look at some of your books. I, I mean if that's still possible."
The man, the priest, the janitor John Hurt pulls something long and wire-y out of the car.
"Hm, old church, old books, you think?"
"Well," Sam's eyes are flying around, focusing on everything at the same time. "I just assumed ... I mean - "
"You assumed right, boy. We had a fairly decent library, but the books were the first thing to go, a big red ON SALE sticker on 'em."
John Hurt wipes his hands off on a ragged button-down shirt.
"You're lucky though, I have a few left, sneaked them out."
He looks at Sam.
"You wanna take a look?"
o ~ o ~ o ~ o
"Something else bothering you?"
"What?" Sam looks up, a leather-bound book lays open in front of him, five more on the floor next to the sofa he is sitting on.
"I don't mean to intrude, but something seems to be bothering you, and - " John Hurt, sitting across from Sam in an armchair, sips on his cup of coffee. "I'm still a priest, you know, and we're very likely to never see each other again, so if you wanna talk, I mean no one but Him - "
John Hurt points up.
" - is listening in."
"Yeah, well," Sam says, closing the book. "That's what I'm afraid of."
"You are afraid of God?"
Sam licks his lips, eyes shying away from John Hu -
- the priest.
"I, I was just kiddin'."
"Hm ... you think he will smite you?"
"Huh," Sam says, a thin smile on his face. "Probably gonna blow me out of my shoes."
"Do you think avoiding your problems by using humour is gonna solve them?"
"I'm serious," Sam says, firmly, shyness leaving his eyes, fixed on the priest now, a cold sting in them.
"Well then, why don't we just start with - "
"You wanna talk?" Loud. High-pitched. Emphasizing the you. "At least someone wants to." Sam's clapping his hands, drawing in his lower lip.
"Who doesn't want to talk to you? God?"
"Huh, he sure likes to think so."
The priest says nothing.
"I - " Sam turns his head, concentrating on the bookshelf in front of him. "My brother doesn't want to talk to me."
"Your brother?" The priest says, taking another sip of coffee.
"Yeah - "
"Well, I got a brother too. Would be relieved if he would stop talking to me for once."
"Yeah, well, Dean didn't stop talking to me, he just refuses to talk about ... something."
"Something - "
"Yeah - "
"Something ... bad?"
"Yeah - "
"Something that ... deserves smiting?"
Sam nods.
"I doubt He will go that far."
"He should," Sam says, his voice slightly above a whisper. "Dean should - "
" ... "
"My dad, he, he told my brother to either save or kill me."
"That's - "
"I spent two years trying to figure out why."
"And now?"
"Now it's too late ... Dean didn't do it and now it's too late. It's too late and he doesn't talk to me - "
"I - "
"ITS TOO LATE - " Sam jumps up, is into the priest's face within a second.
"It's fine, all's well, just calm down - "
"It's not fine ... I, he, Dean promised, he promised - " Sam says, sitting back down on the sofa, head resting in his hands.
"He promised me he would do it if it ever came down to this. And you know what he did? After I ran off, after I beat the crap out of him? After I choked him?"
"No - "
"He came for me ... but it was too late ... I let him down ... he should have killed me ... before - "
"Before what?"
"It's - " Sam bites his lips, drawing blood. "Dean's pretending it never happened."
"Maybe that's his way of saying it's alright."
"Huhmn," Sam sneers. "You don't know my brother."
"No, I don't."
"That's right, you don't ... So, uhm, you said you got a brother?"
"Hm, yeah, I do, I do, he's a barkeeper in a small town not too far away from here. I'm gonna go visit him in a couple of months, he asked me to marry some old friends ... huh ... Walter and Rose who would have guessed."
Sam smiles politely.
"That's great."
"Yeah ... so you got someone special in your life?"
"Yeah, Dean - "
"But I thought Dean's your brother?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Uhm, nevermind ... So why do you think you deserve to die?"
"I, uhm," Sam says, thrown by the sudden mood change in the priest. "I have done things."
"A lot of people have done things, bad things."
"Not like that."
"You know, boy, there are monsters out there, people slaughtering each other, and even them He is willing to forgive."
"I'm pretty sure monsters end up in hell - "
"There's always redemption - "
"Not for what I have done ... I am the monster here."
"Yet you still believe in God, in heaven, in angels."
"It's not like that, it's not like it's blind faith anymore ... And just for the record, angels are dicks."
"If you say so - "
Sam swallows.
"Yeah - "
The priest is drinking the rest of his coffee and leans back into the armchair.
"Not a lot of people are believing in God, in angels, and also think they are monsters and hell is a actual place."
"I have it on good authority."
"Do you?"
"Yeah, my brother was there."
"Hell?"
"Yeah - "
"I don't understand."
"Look," Sam says, slamming both his hands down on the table, making the book slide near the edge. "He ended up there because of me, and he's not a monster."
"He made a deal, didn't he?"
"What?"
They're looking at each other, Sam's opening his mouth, saying nothing.
"As I said monsters were real, I meant it," the priest says.
"So, you know what's going on out there ... You a hunter?"
"No, no ... I just ... know stuff."
"Huhm - "
"Yeah, so ... what was your name again?"
"Sam - "
"Sam, so Sam you said ... wait ... Sam ... and Dean ... as in Sam and Dean Winchester?"
"Yeah, guess you really know stuff."
"Yes, I do," the priest says, sitting up. "I'm gonna pour myself another cup, you want one too this time?"
"No, thanks."
Sam's lips stretch, he's waiting, but nothing happens, the priest just walks out of the room, leaving Sam to himself.
o ~ o ~ o ~ o
"You know," the priest says, still out of Sam's eyesight. "You were right."
"Right about what?"
"Your brother should have killed you."
Sam's getting up, searching the back of his pants as the priest comes around the corner, shotgun in hand, aimed at Sam's chest and Sam curses, he curses because he didn't pack. He went out into the apocalyptic world without any weapon, Dean would so have his ass for that, if he bothers to care.
The priest, John Hurt, is pulling the trigger and Sam ducks, a window shatters and Sam half runs half crawls towards the door, sprinting out followed by several gunshots.
o ~ o ~ o ~ o
"Glad I didn't mention the apocalypse."
Sam's hiding out into a side alley, breathing heavy, garbage skip looming giganticly behind him, making him seem small.
John Hurt didn't follow him, Sam ran too fast, scaring off passer-bys.
Looks like Sam's a wanted man, by everyone but his own brother.
Sighing Sam decides to walk back to the motel, it's getting late, the traffic more heavy, the streets more busy.
He's passing a newspaper stand, the date on today's paper's not the ninth, not the only thing Sam was wrong about lately. Captain Kirk is fighting Klingon's on the sale
clerks tiny tv and Sam knows he should have listened to Dean, to Bobby -
But -
- but he had to get out of Dean's grip, crushing like their father's, sucking the air out of his lungs.
Yeah, life sucked for Sam Winchester until a couple of days ago.
Now it's -
- a not working traffic light.
Sam reaches out, long arms catching fragile shoulders before the Volvo catches them. A shriek, echoing numb in Sam's ears as he pulls the little girl off the street and back to the safety of the sidewalk, back to the safety of her mother's arms.
"Carla, gosh, are you alright?" The woman's fingers inspecting the girl's chest, her arms, her face. Something Dean used to do with Sam, he stopped after hell. Stopped pulling him up, stopped searching for blood, missing the venomous red liquid circling Sam's veins. He should have looked closer. A brief thought in Sam's mind, standing for everything Sam ran away from, ran away from this time -
- Dean wanting to control him, to lead his life for him, putting him into chains, locking him up.
Yet it's what Sam wants, wants Dean to protect him, wants to be free of Dean, wants to be Dean's little Sammy and crawl up onto his lap, wants to beat Dean's brains out.
Sam turns around, the green jacket he's wearing adjusting itself around his back, his arms, moving with him. He looks back, the woman's kneeling in front of the girl, she's smiling at him, mouthing a thank you. The girl's fidgeting around, slapping away her mother's hands, and for a moment Sam wishes it would be Lilith. If Lilith would be alive again, if Lilith would never have died, it wouldn't be the end of the world.
Except it is.
THE END
Author's Note:
As I first posted this story, shortly after finishing the last edit, I thought it was rubbish, by now I personally like it a lot, and, frankly, I think the reason I was so insecure about this story was that in order to write it I had to get right into Sammy's head, and getting into Sammy's head at this point in his life wasn't exactly the wisest thing to do ;) ... So I went in there (heavily armed I might add) and everytime I saw this story I got into that Sam-mood again, so naturally I felt bad about it, well, I'm over that now, and as I said before like it a lot, so I hope you guys who read this enjoyed it a bit and gave Sam a big hug by the end (boy needs it ;)) ...
Oh yeah, the title of this fic is a song by John Hurt, which is also the priest's name ;) ...
Comments are loved :)