Tag for 4x8 "Wishful Thinking"

So I was watching 4x8 a month ago and I had this thought…What if Sam had made a wish in the fountain? What would he have wished for? And what would be the consequences?

Be Careful What You Wish For

SAM

"It's not what I would wish for, Dean. We can't go back to the way it was."

"What would you wish for then?"

"It doesn't matter Dean. It wouldn't be real anyway."

Sam stood in front of the fountain inside the Chinese Restaurant and looked into the clear, shallow water. The manager, still indignant over their allegations about his restaurant having a rat infestation asked for a delay of thirty minutes to finish up with the lunch crowd before he closed down. Sam and Dean shared a look and Dean nodded curtly at the manager, telling him they didn't mind waiting.

Clearly disappointed, the manager obviously had hoped they would leave and return later, he scurried off to assist with closing down the kitchen. Dean had excused himself to use the restroom and Sam guarded the fountain from any more wishes. Dean was sure that once the fountain was empty, they could get a better grasp on why this particular fountain made wishes come true.

Of course, they were flying blind here- Dad's journal did not mention wishing wells.

Sam couldn't resist taking another glance at the wishes that coated the fountain bottom like a copper blanket while he fingered the cool surface of the flattened coin he held. He would never have admitted it out loud to Dean, but he was tempted…but he wouldn't make a wish. A strange foreboding came over him whenever he looked at the fountain. It seemed silly, he knew, but Sam felt antsy.

"What would you wish for then?" Dean's words came back to him and Sam felt a lump in his throat. If he was a normal guy, he would have rattled off any number of superficial wishes.

A million dollars.

Fame.

A car that gave better mileage.

A home.

Jess.

Dad.

Yet, when Dean asked him, amusement lighting up his green eyes, Sam knew there was only one thing he would wish for. All the money and fame in the world wouldn't get it for him. At this moment, he gave no thought to resurrecting the dead.

"What would you wish for then?"

His eyes moved away from the fountain and looked down at the flat coin he held. For 16 years, the coin had been his constant companion. When Sam changed clothes, he always made sure he had the coin with him. It meant as much to him as the amulet he had once given to Dean.

In their life, personal possessions, other than clothes, were a rarity. The coin was given to Dean the summer after he had turned 12, when he had helped Pastor Jim with a car wash to raise money for the church. At the end of the day, Pastor Jim approached him with a small trinket - a flattened coin. Most likely, it had been the size of a nickel but after being flattened, it was the size of a thin quarter. The coin was obviously foreign and unlike anything the boys had ever seen. Many an hour was passed in the backseat of the Impala as their Dad drove them around the country speculating about the coin, its origins and why it had been flattened. It was one of Dean's most prized possessions - until one Christmas in Nebraska, when Sam had given Dean the amulet and had been blown away when Dean scrambled through his pockets and produced the coin for Sam.

"This is yours now Sammy."

"But Dean, you love this coin more than anything."

Dean shook his head and grinned at Sam, while he clutched the amulet in his hand. "Not anymore Sam."

Sam kept the coin.

He heard the low timbre of his brother's voice as he stopped to flirt with the waitress. Sam glanced up and watched his brother flash a charming smile at the waitress - the same charming smile Sam had seen him flash a thousand times when he lied. These days it was the only smile Sam saw.

"I'm fine, Sammy." He said with a grin. "I'm not tired. I'm hitting the bars…and then I am hitting the next pair of tits to jiggle my way." Dean grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

Dean looked at him and flashed the phony smile his way. He looked at Sam's hand as Sam smoothly manipulated the coin over his knuckles. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Thinking of a wish, Sammy?" his eyes asked.

Sam gave a slight shake of his head.

But, it was tempting…to finally know the truth. He just knew that if he knew the truth, then he might be able to make things better.

"What would you wish for then?"

Sam sighed and looked at the water. He would never wish out loud though. The fates, he had learned, were often cruel to them. But he couldn't stop the flash of longing within.

I wish…

He barely thought the words when he felt a body bump into his and the coin slipped from his fingers and flipped into the water.

He didn't hear the plunk! of the coin when it hit the water. He didn't see the smile wiped from his brother's face as if someone used an eraser or hear the hoarse and strangled sound of his name being yelled through his brother's lips.

I wish that I knew. He had thought.

And then everything went black.

It stayed black for a long time and Sam was struck by the absence of everything- light, sound, movement. It was just Sam, floating and frozen in a void of dark nothingness. If he could feel, he imagined that he would have felt cold and would have felt the goose bumps rise on his skin.

He heard laughter…low and endless and un-amused - eerily familiar and implacable at the same time. Mixed in with the laughter was a whisper – repetitive and insidious. At first the words were unintelligible and Sam tried to tune out the laughter and focus on the whispers.

"Be careful what you wish for. Be careful what you wish for. Be…"

He supposed it was less like a whisper and more like a hiss- each word drawn out into the next in one impossibly long breath.

A new sound joined the laughter - screams of terror and agony, faint at first but steadily increasing in volume as if Sam was traveling toward the sound.

"No more. Please, no more. Sttttoooopppp. Please stop."

It wasn't one voice, but a deafening cacophony of a million voices all moaning in fear and dread. Interspersed with the terrified sounds, was another sound, harsher sound that echoed around him in regular intervals, like a metronome keeping time.

Wchhhh.

Whchhh.

Meanwhile, the laughter and the hissing words continued.

Sam, unable to move, couldn't cover his ears, couldn't yell or protest. Instead, he endured.

Throughout his journey, he had never felt any movement, but he knew he had been traveling. Abruptly, he stopped. The journey was over and he had reached his destination. He felt a slight pull and squeezing all over as if his body was being pushed into something that fit snugly all over.

Like a switch had been flipped, he could suddenly feel…everything. His body was spread and suspended (or at least he thought he was suspended, since he felt nothing beneath him) and each appendage was bound to…something. He felt the sensation of knives slipping between his skin and flesh, peeling him in one long strip like an orange.

The screams merged until the sound was one long agonizing yell and Sam realized the sound was coming from inside him. At least he thought it was coming from inside him. It felt like it was coming from him when the last remnants of his skin was flayed from his body and Sam moaned as he lay raw, vulnerable and exposed, unable to move.

The air seemed to shift around him and Sam recognized a presence near him. Unable to see, he stared straight ahead tried in vain to see something.

A voice, distorted and sinister hissed in his ear.

"Winchesssster." It said, drawing out the word. "Yooouuuuur miiiine."

Sam's sense of smell kicked in as the thing closed in toward his face and leaned across him toward his other ear. The thing smelled like a piece of meat that had gone rancid and then dipped in ammonia, a combination that burned his nose with every inhale while making him want to gag. "Sssssoo lonnng. Waitttting so lonnnng for you, Winchesssster." Something flicked against his ear.

Sam felt something hot and slimy move against the exposed tissue of his flayed body. "Tassssste sooooo goooddd Winchessster." The action was repeated once more and Sam realized that the thing-creature-whatever it was – had licked him. Next, Sam felt as if someone had wrapped his shoulder in burning barbed wire. The wire wrapped itself around his shoulder and tightened its grasp - each razor point barb dug into the exposed tissue and caused a white hot agony to rip through him. Then, he felt something pull at his arm and all at once Sam realized… it was eating him.

Sam screamed. As the sound burst from his throat he paused, confused. The scream continued and Sam realized he was not the one screaming. The voice he heard was not his own, but Sam knew the hoarse, gravelly voice and recognized the owner.

The voice belonged to Dean. Dean was screaming.

Sam had made a wish and now it was coming true.

I wish I knew. He had thought to himself back in the Chinese restaurant. And now he did.

Dean had never talked about his years in Hell and, desperate to understand and help his brother, Sam wanted to know everything his brother had gone through.

Be careful what you wish for.

Not sure if I should continue with Dean getting Sam back or leave as is (I have half another chapter written from Dean POV, but thought it might work as a one shot). For now, it is complete, but if you want more, let me know.