Being unsure, being confused, or even being curious was dangerous. It meant an opening for the others to rip you apart. Sam would always remember when he was five, and he had hesitated in hitting Jake during sparring, because he had known the strike would break Jake's jawbone.
Jake's punch had given him a concussion.
It was frightening, having that hesitation all over again. No matter what questions he asked, what hints he dropped, Dean didn't seem to have any agenda at all. A whole week had passed almost enjoyably, despite the continuous pain. And to boot, Dean seemed to care that he was in pain and did everything to get him out of it. Not that anything would've helped; the spell on Sam's chest made sure of that.
But it was nice, having someone take care of him. And that was what scared Sam the most.
"How do you feel about chinese?"
Sam furrowed his brow, looking up from the book Dean had gotten him. "The language? I don't speak it."
Dean rolled his eyes, a motion that was becoming familiar. "The food, genius. You like?"
"Uh, no idea."
"Throw me the phone, I'll order some," Dean said exasperatedly, though Sam could hear the humor behind it.
Without thinking, he levitated the phone over to Dean. At Dean's shock, he lost control, dropping the phone and flinching back. "Sorry, I didn't mean . . . it was just habit, I'm sorry," he apologized desperately. He hadn't used his powers the entire week, and then he had to go and do something like that.
Dean's expression was shaky, but he threw Sam a smile, which was confusing. "Hey, man, don't worry about it, that was cool. Just not outside the room, huh?"
"Y-yeah, sure thing," Sam stammered. There was a pause that wasn't awkward. It was just a pause.
"Sam, who's Jess?"
The question came out of nowhere, and Sam felt the blood drain from his face. Dean immediately backtracked.
"Never mind, don't worry about it. Just heard you say her name in your sleep. Uh, that sounded creepy. Forget about it."
Sam rubbed a hand over his eyes. He owed Dean everything, he could at least give him this. "She was . . . well, I ran away. When I was sixteen. I don't know how I managed it, or if Father actually deliberately let me go, but I met Jess, and she . . . we . . ."
"Fell in love?" Dean supplied, tone surprisingly gentle.
Sam nodded and tried to sit up, wincing as it pulled on his chest. "And, well, obviously Father didn't like that. So he killed her, and I couldn't—" Sam clenched his fists.
"I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as I'll always be," Sam said tightly.
"How long did you get with her?"
"A week before they caught up with us," Sam murmured. He didn't say how he had dreams of her death the whole time before that, keeping them one step ahead each time until he slipped, distracted by Jess and how happy she was. And then she was dead.
Sam didn't really know how to cope with being happy. He supposed that showed how messed up he really was, but deep down, he almost longed for violence and suspicion. It was so much more natural. This, this easy affection, the smiles, the joking around set him on edge, made it hard to keep up.
Deeper down, he was treasuring every moment though.
Halfway through the second week, and Sam knew he could go back. He was healed enough to walk around, maybe not hand-to-hand combat, but that's what telekinesis was for, after all.
But he stayed.
"What is it you want?"
Sam canted his eyes towards Dean. "How are you paying for all of this?" He glanced around the crowded room and resisted the urge to run away. Panicking would not be a great way to repay Dean's kindness to him. But large crowds . . .
Dean smirked and looked down. "Credit card fraud."
"Ah." Sam looked back down at his menu, trying to figure out what an omelet was so he wouldn't have to ask Dean. Maybe he would just go for it. "I'll get the omelet."
"Sounds good," Dean cheerfully said, taking a sip of his coffee.
A wave of hot-cold washed over Sam and he shut his eyes, pressure building behind them. The scene played out in his head: demon would come over in the waitresses body, flirt and pretend for a second while trying to get some dirt on Sam, and then kill Dean and order Sam to come back.
"Dean," he said softly. He glanced around before focusing back on the hunter. He sighed. "I'm sorry I have to do this to you. But don't speak." He layered the last two words with a true command. Andy had taught him well.
Dean didn't speak a word, though his eyes were filled with confusion and anger.
"Well, sweethearts, what can I get you?"
Sam lifted his hand and twisted it, taking control of the demon. He grinned, a cruel motion of his mouth that was nothing like the smile he had given Dean earlier. "Hello, sweetheart. If you don't mind, I'd like you back in Hell."
The waitresses smile was gone, twisted in rage. "You wouldn't dare. You are in disgrace."
"That I may be, but when it comes down to me versus you, who do you think Azazel will choose?" Sam snarled, yanking her form closer so they were eye to eye. The waitress's eyes went black but Sam didn't flinch.
"So who's your friend?" she asked with a smirk.
Sam shrugged carelessly. "How should I know? I just needed someone to get me food. Needed to work on my mind control." He turned to Dean. "Say hello."
Dean's voice was choked. "Hello."
"Cute." The waitress twitched. "You've made your point, Sam. I will not interfere."
"Tell Azazel I will be another three days. Then I will return." He kept his face a mask and stared at the demon.
"Very well."
Sam released her and watched carefully as she left. Then he released the mind control on Dean and cowered. "I'm sorry. Please, forgive me, I just didn't know what else to do."
Dean's own face was a mask. "What was that?"
Sam looked at him hesitantly, barely managing to meet his eyes. "Um, which part. The demon, or the, uh, mind control?"
Dean leaned forward, face still closed off. "No. I want to know really, what you are. Because what you just showed me was you being a demon. And if that's really you, then . . ." Dean let his words hang there.
Sam gestured helplessly, looking down at the tabletop. "I hardly know what I am. But what you just saw, that's what I don't want to be, but I have to so I can survive." He paused, twisting his hands together nervously.
"What can I get you boys?"
Sam snapped his head up to take in their real waitress.
"We'll get two omelets to go."
Sam waited, feeling like he was waiting for one of Father's punishments as they got their food and left.
"Are you going to kill me?" he asked in a small voice as soon as they got back to their motel.
Dean sighed. "Get in the room."
Sam obeyed without hesitation, turning to face Dean once he was inside, but keeping his posture as humble and small as possible and sinking to perch on the end of the bed.
"If you think I might kill you, why do you stay with me?"
Sam chanced a look up. Dean's face wasn't angry, wasn't upset at all, just . . . intense.
"Because I like having a . . . a friend," Sam said honestly.
Dean looked like he was processing that. "Even if you think I'll kill you at any moment?"
Sam nodded. "Why would that be a problem?"
"Because friends don't kill each other at random," Dean said.
Sam cocked his head. "Don't they?"
"Man, you are so screwed up," Dean muttered under his breath, but Sam caught it anyway. Good hearing was essential when a sibling was trying to sneak up on him.
"I know. But I'll do anything to stay for a few more days. Please. Anything at all."
"Promise me you won't use that mind control on me again. That's it."
Sam nodded. "Of course. Promise."
Dean looked at him sideways. "And if you don't mind, I'd like a run-down of your powers."
Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Well, there's the telekinesis. And the mind control. I kinda have telepathy, though I'm not very good." He noticed Dean's narrowed eyes and winced. "No, I haven't tried to read your mind. Um, and my strongest power would be the premonitions I get."
Dean tilted his head. "Like visions?"
Sam nodded. "They used to be more random and uncontrolled, but I've trained, and I can control it. In the restaurant, for example, I got one about the demon, because subconsciously I sensed there would be a threat, and then saw the vision. That's why I used the mind control, so she wouldn't kill you."
Dean 'huh'd.
"My powers don't work in devil traps, if you'd like to draw one," Sam offered.
"That's okay."
"I have three days left," Sam said after a slight pause. "Would you . . . would you like me to leave?"
Dean considered him. "Only if you'd like to leave."
Sam shook his head immediately and Dean barked a laugh, leaving him lost.
"What?"
"You're so . . . I don't think I've met anyone as complex yet simple as you."
Sam frowned. "Is that a bad thing?"
Dean's laugh was even more relaxed, and Sam felt his tension leaving. "Naw, man. Aside from the demon thing, you're all good." Dean actually ruffled his hair as he passed Sam. Sam promised himself not to screw up the next three days. He wouldn't.
"You sure this'll work?" Dean's voice was loaded with skepticism, and Sam smiled briefly.
"No. It's not foolproof, but it helps."
"I'm meditating," Dean said flatly. "I think I'm getting hives."
"Just relax and focus on the object."
Dean glared at his ring like it had personally offended him, and Sam choked back a laugh.
"Alright, I'm going to try." Sam concentrated and found himself staring at Dean's very . . . well, very terrible wall. He easily scaled it and jumped down on the other side, to find himself in a street outside of a burning house. He pulled back with a sigh. "It didn't work. You're not concentrating hard enough. Think of me as a threat."
"Wait, I couldn't even tell you were in my head!" Dean exclaimed. "What did you see?"
"Nothing," Sam reassured him. "I drew back as soon as I got past the wall."
Dean frowned. "I didn't picture a wall."
"It's not about what you picture. Your initial defenses are what I see, and if I were to see them as prison walls, that would be me realizing there was no way in. Once I'm in your head, then I see what you are really thinking."
"Alright, again."
Once more, Sam hopped the wall. This time, there was a graveyard. Sam was about to leave, but two graves were standing out and his curiosity got the better of him.
Mary Winchester. Beloved wife and mother. Samuel Winchester. Beloved son and brother. November 2nd, 1983.
Sam pulled back with a start and stared at Dean. "I . . . I."
"What?" Dean glowered.
"I'm sorry," Sam stuttered. "I didn't mean to see it."
"See what?"
"Your mother and brother. They died on the same day?" Sam asked quietly. Dean's face paled and he pushed to his feet.
"That's it. Enough of this. I'm going to the bar."
Sam bowed his head and shrank back, ignoring the twinge in his chest. This was his last day.
"You wanna come with?"
Sam jerked his head up, staring at Dean. "Really?"
Dean was fidgeting with an expression that Sam had come to learn meant he was uncomfortable. "If you'd like?"
Sam shot to his feet. "Yeah, I'd . . . I'd like that."
The bar was crowded, and Sam cringed, keeping close to Dean. "What'll you have?" Dean threw over his shoulder.
"Just . . . just a coke," Sam replied, twisting his fingers together until it was almost painful.
Dean smirked. "Is that your new favorite drink?"
Sam shrugged. "I've liked most everything."
"True enough." Dean's grin was easy, and Sam found himself mirroring it.
Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam's jump when a glass crashed.
"I haven't been around a lot of people much," he explained.
Dean grinned. "Stick close to me. I'll protect you from the scary humans," he joked.
"Shut up," Sam laughed.
They ended up having a fantastic night, in Sam's opinion. He used his telekinesis to win Dean several games of pool and get him some cash. Dean smiled most of the night.
As they went back to the motel, however, Sam knew his grace period was over.
Lying in the dark, Sam listened to Dean's breathing and felt that he was still awake.
"Dean?" he asked softly.
"Yeah, Sam?" Dean's voice floated back.
"What should I do?"
The rustling of sheets meant Dean was moving, but Sam didn't look at him.
"Do with what?"
"When I return."
"Who's saying you have to? Just stay."
Sam's heart clenched painfully. "They'll kill you. I can't."
Dean was silent.
"I don't know what to do, when I return. I don't want to be who I've grown up being. But I'm not strong enough to defeat them all."
Dean's sigh was heavy. "I don't know, Sam. But if you're looking for instruction, I'll just say for the moment, do what it takes to stay alive."
"Oh. I thought you'd say something else," Sam murmured.
"Yeah, well. It may not be right, but stay alive. We'll figure something out."
Sam turned in his bed, blinking. "We?"
"Yeah. We."
Sam smiled privately. Once Dean was asleep, though, he got up.
"Goodbye," he whispered.
"Baby comes crawling back, all healed up."
Sam didn't react to Jake's derisive comment and turned to go to the sleeping quarters. The second before it happened, he foresaw Jake would attack him.
"Feel like sparring?" he heard, and was shoved sideways into a wall. Sam twisted around, slamming an elbow into Jake's throat, finding his brother's arm and pulling it back into a hold.
"Not at the moment," he snarled.
Jake's dark eyes were calculating. Sam had always wondered how, if they were all related, they managed to look so dissimilar. Though who knew, maybe Azazel had been using different vessels each time he, well . . . Sam cut off the thought.
"What have I missed?" he asked.
"Lily accidentally gave Vicky a heart attack. She'll live, though."
"Hmm." Sam released Jake and rolled his neck. "And any tests?"
"Just training."
Sam felt himself relaxing slightly. That was a good start.
"Sam, Azazel wants you."
Sam turned to the lower demon, sneering slightly. "That right? Well go on, then."
"Better hope he doesn't punish you again," Jake smirked.
"Uh uh."
Sam reluctantly went up the stairs, noting newer bloodstains leading up.
"Enter."
He took in the scene carefully, and tried to keep his horror and distaste off of his face. Even after nineteen years, it was difficult to get used to that much blood.
"Ah, Samuel. So glad you could join us."
"Hello, Father." Azazel had an old woman as a vessel, which was slightly disturbing, but not as bad as when he had used a child before.
"Samuel, my boy. I just need you to finish this one off for me, alright?"
Sam considered the dying woman carefully and bent down. He communicated to her telepathically. "I'm sorry. I'll make this quick."
He saw the thanks in her eyes before he squeezed at the woman's brain stem, causing immediate death.
"Very clean. So, how was your time on the outside?"
"I am happy to be home," Sam dodged.
"Good. Things are going very well."
"I am glad to hear that, Father."
"Expect extensive training tomorrow. You are dismissed."
Max was waiting at the foot of the stairs. "How come you're the favorite?" he muttered. "Any of us screwed up like you had and we'd be dead."
"I dunno," Sam snapped. "Get out of my way."
Max snorted and twisted away. "Better watch your back, Sam."
"Always do," Sam returned. As one of his sisters passed by, he tapped her arm. "Hey, have you seen Andy?"
Her look was amused. "You've been gone for too long, Sam. Andy and Ansem have made up. Quite the team they make, the twins."
Sickened, Sam turned away. Two weeks he had been off enjoying himself, and Andy was gone.
"Andy?" he tried the sleeping quarters.
"Sam." Andy's voice was distinctly cool. "So you're not dead."
"Not yet, anyway." Sam slunk into the room, finding his bed had been burnt rather badly and flopping down on Scott's instead. There was a tingling electricity in the sheets.
"What'd Father do to you?" Andy's interest was getting the better of him.
"Lit me on fire. Beat me up."
When Sam glanced over, Andy's eyes were wide. "He burned you?"
Sam nodded.
"How'd you survive?" Andy whispered, kind of like he was afraid of someone else. Probably Ansem.
"Human found me, didn't know what I was. By the time they fixed me up, I was able to use mind control. Owe you for that one, Andy." Sam tipped his head and Andy softened even further.
"You staying?"
Sam paused, the possibilities opening up. There were times when individuals would wander and have time to themselves; otherwise they would all go insane and kill each other (more than they already did). There was no rule against him going to visit Dean.
"Yeah, so long as I don't screw up," he said aloud.
"Cool."
A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, guys! It's slow progress, but it's getting there. Please review, let me know what you think!
'til next week :)
