Hello! This is my first fanfiction. I have many chapters completed, and a story arc planned. It is still a work in progress, so I am open to suggestions. You will notice Sam is a girl and has always been Dean's sister. I will try to match the traits to the character, but it goes canon after Dean's death. Slow burn Sabriel. *Warning: This chapter contains suicidal thoughts. If you have any triggers on that, skip to chapter two.
Chapter One- Deciding
Another dingy motel, stained carpets, flickering outdoor lights, broken ice machines. Hell, this could be "home." It's there that Sam sits cross legged on the squeaky bed. With a few weapons set out in front of her, she begins the selection process to choose the right one for the job.
She picked up the 8" blade first, it felt good in her hand. He has bled out a few times in her life, and remembering those times made her shiver. The chill that seeped into his bones while the warm blood pooled around her body, sinking in darkness. She placed the knife back down on the mattress.
She picked up the revolver. How many times has she shot this off? This gun held no significance to her, another tool. There were four bullets left, one in the chamber. "One of these is not like the other…" Wait, yes they are. Bullets go in, brains come out. This will do fine. Now, is death what she wants?
Her soul is tainted, viscous and brown. If there is a hell, then there must be a heaven, right? The universe maintains balance, yet the universe have never treated the Winchesters' kindly. If there is a heaven, could she be given access to it? Would she join Dean in the pit? That seems more likely.
even if the Winchester's have never kind to think her soul could ever make it to heaven. Would she join Dean's in the pit? At least they would be together, whatever that means.
Sam focused on her thoughts, everything else was static. The weight of the gun in her hands keeps her centered. There is knocking at the door, but it's beyond her periphery. She remains crossed leg on the bed as the knocking gets more persistent. She could be dead by now, she could be with Jess, maybe. Oh, well she isn't going to go there...
A more simple solution would be to get in the Impala and drive off a cliff. She'd have to get out of bed. Screw that, AND FUCK DEAN.
This is all his fault. Selling his soul, for what, one year? Bullshit. Dean took away her opportunity of peace. She could have died in a somewhat normal way, a hunter's death. If she doesn't kill herself, what else is left? She can feel her blood pressure rise. Sam wonders if that will that make her brains splatter more when she pulls the trigger.
"Whoa there kiddo, slow your roll". Sam turned her head and looked over at the Trickster dressed like a pizza man with that same dumb mustache. She narrowed his eyes at him, not terribly surprised to see him there, but annoyed at his presence. Sam looked back at the gun in her hands and sighed. In one swift movement, she swiped the arsenal of weapons off the sheets onto the floor. Resigned to the fact that the Trickster was in her room, she only turned her back and laid down the facing the wall. Whatever punishment he was there to deliver, her current existence was worse.
The Trickster stood there slack jawed. The quick witted man that could never shut his trap, silent. Being dismissed like this would ignite his temper, but seeing Sam so fragile, struck him wrong. He placed the pizza boxes on the table and stepped the edge of the bed. He hesitated a moment before getting into the bed and angling himself behind Sam.
Sam felt the mattress shift with the added weight, then she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. She immediately stiffened. She heard him snap his fingers and shut her eyes in preparation. In an instant, Sam was wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt. This was not what she was expecting, and she could have sworn the bed was more cushioned and the blanket softer. Then to her disbelief, the Trickster wrapped an arm around her center and pulled him into his chest. Sam was still rigid but relaxed into him at a complete loss. Her mind was blank, but the static was back. She could only process her physical sensations at this moment. She held on them, because they were the only thing she had in this moment. It was his warm, comforting presence behind her.
She felt the Trickster adjust his position as he murmured into her ear, "Indulge me". With a wave of his hand, Sam took in the new sight. They were still in bed, in the same position, but the motel walls vanished and they were on a hilltop in a forest. Sam knew it wasn't an illusion because she was know breathing fresh air. She didn't stir much, but she there were the large trees surrounding them, overlooking the lake below. The water was illuminated by the moon in the night sky. It soothed her.
At that realization he turned to face the man behind her. The Trickster's eyes locked onto hers and she saw tenderness there. "Why?" Sam asked. There was no answer, because there was no question. Only static. The Trickster wrapped her in his embrace, and her unshed tears began to fall. Her body wracked with grief until she relinquished that last bit of despair.