'This is going better than I thought it would,' he confesses to himself. They are sitting on a couch at Amy's home, getting to know each other and she is smiling at him. 'We have so much in common...awesome!' he thinks. He can't help but beam back.
Abruptly, there is something calculating in the way Amy looks at him. Her expression grows solemn and she remarks matter-of-factly, "you are a freak." There is no heat behind it but it burns anyway and he can't conceal the involuntary wince—which she sees. He appreciates her rush to reassure him so immensely—apparently, such a designation can be a positive distinction—that he didn't entirely absorb the details of her sophisticated sounding reasoning.
And so he is back to being in good spirits, the catalyst that emboldens him to put his longing into action; yet he is also nervous. Exasperated with it all, his inner voice ends the battle asserting 'it's now or never.' Before he loses his nerve, he thinks 'now!' then closes his eyes, leans forward and kisses her, all within a swift second. To his relief, Amy doesn't flinch—she is actually returning the kiss; her lips are warm and soft and his mind is swirling in a haze of ecstasy. There is nothing else going on in the world, it's just him with her…
Curiously, he senses he is now upright and Amy's presence has vanished; something is wrong. His contentment recedes—it is a dreadful physical feeling of warm blood traveling from his heart and returning cold. He frowns and quickly opens his eyes to find there is now a strange woman standing before him. Surprise turns to horror when he realizes she is the kitsune that his dad and brother are hunting—and Amy is her daughter.
The mother kitsune is not put off by a gangly featured teen, such as he is, glaring at her. Inspecting him, her eyes show nothing but malice. "This kid is food!" she snarls.
Now there is a knife in his hand; he knows he's supposed to kill this creature but is somehow incapable—his arms won't move, feet are frozen to the floor. He just stands still when the kitsune grabs him by his shirt. His final thought is 'sorry, Dean.' He is transfixed by her raised right hand as the claws develop and strike toward him.
With a gasp, Sam's eyes opened wide and his whole body jerked with the sensation that he was falling. He found himself lying on his bed and took in the grungy motel room with the tan colored walls. 'I'm still in Amherst…and in one piece,' he realized after a quick glance over his own body. He blew his breath out loudly, gratified.
Instinctively, Sam glanced left to Dean's unmade bed and though it was empty, he was consoled—he heard the voices of his brother and dad just outside.
'It was that damn nightmare again,' he reflected with a shudder. Though each time some details are different, Sam remembers that he is always kissing Amy, hearing her call him a freak and about to be killed. The passage of time has made the actual experience seem more and more surreal but the bad dreams linger on and won't let him ever forget that he did come face to face with not one but two kitsunes.
Lying there, trying to steady his breathing, reality continued to gradually take hold. Sam registered that the room was very hot and stuffy; the sun was brightly streaming in through the window. Even with just boxers on, his skin stuck to the sheets.
Sam cast his eyes to the front door as he heard footsteps approaching on the other side. It opened gently, allowing his brother to poke his head inside—Dean's hazel green eyes met Sam's hazel green eyes, the only identifying feature they shared between them. "Nap time is over, princess, we're leaving in ten," Dean informed him with a wink.
"Okay," was all Sam was capable of saying with his throat being dry. While stretching to wake up his body, a cool breeze flowed inside and felt good on his sweaty skin.
Dean scrutinized him with a tense expression. "Come on, Sam. Time to get ready! Caleb is waiting."
Sam first lifted his left arm and waited the couple of seconds necessary before he was able to focus on his watch; he read 10:20. Four hours had gone by. He groaned inwardly, 'God, it feels like I just laid down five minutes ago...my head feels like a rock.' But he didn't want to show too much vulnerability with Dean still standing there, watching him, so he pulled himself up, found a change of clothes and sluggishly tread to the bathroom.
Now satisfied, Dean headed back out, leaving the door slightly ajar and called, "don't worry, we're right outside," his voice travelling further away.
After relieving himself, Sam looked at the shower and thought 'who knows when the next one will be' so he started the water and stepped in.
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"Sam up and running?" John inquired as his older son completed the short distance from the room back to him. He could guess the answer based on Dean's troubled look.
"He's up, but I won't say he's running...it's more like staggering."
John narrowed his eyes and tightened his mouth at that. 'That's another thing...we're always waiting on that kid.'
"He just needs a few...he had another nightmare by the looks of him," Dean conveyed with a hint of ambiguity.
John shook his head, considering for a moment. "Well, he has been pushing himself this past June or so...been taking what we do more seriously. This new focus of our reality must be affecting him more so in his unconscious because of it."
Dean contemplated that. Dad is right on about Sammy...he has been training harder lately...could be too much and he's exhausted. "Maybe..."
John's allowance was short-lived. "Hasn't really improved our relationship, though...Sam's still as stubborn and hard-headed as ever," he vented in a clipped voice. He couldn't help but recall their conflicts, old and new...'instead of hearing Sam say, 'why can't we stay here a little longer' or 'I can't go bow-hunting, I've got to stay after school to help with an assignment', it was now 'are you sure that's the best way to kill a rawhead?'. It wasn't what he said, it was how he said it. He could still physically feel the stab of tiny daggers from the anger shooting out of his younger son's eyes. "He's changed from fighting me about school to just fighting," John added.
"Yes sir," was all Dean could say with a touch of weariness for having to endure both of their egos throughout the past several years. 'Sam never got to have a normal life so I could understand why he tried so hard to join soccer, focus on school and outside friends...hell, I even supported it...but it's summertime…I don't get why Sam is still easily angered...not that Dad's temper helps any,' Dean thought, trying to analyze his brother's contrary behavior.
"His attitude is only gonna get him in trouble. If we're gonna include him on the front lines, he's got to obey my orders," John said, more to himself.
'Huh, Dad's gonna get Sam more involved now…no more just digging up corpses…maybe Sam showing more interest in hunting is his way of telling us he's bored and Dad's picked up on it...Sammy's now gonna be at greater risk!...he's tested fine so far...well, he is, after all, past the age when I got more in deep and I'm still okay...' The final rationalization was Dean's attempt to ease his ingrained anxiety.
He tried to keep his brother in the dark about what their dad was really doing when he was away; that lasted until Sam was eight years old. When his little brother learned the truth, he found he felt relieved. He took solace in talking freely and enjoyed how Sam looked up to him. Now, it seemed Sam was ready to take on more and Dean found himself subject to mixed emotions.
Dean's ruminations were interrupted as John, staring off in the distance, gruffly continued. "What matters is respect. He's got to fall in line…for the sake of us all."
Dean recognized what his father was really trying to say and swallowed apprehensively before speaking it out loud. "I know you worry about him, Dad." That earned him a fierce stare but John stayed silent, then his expression softened; it was an affirmation that Dean was right. "But I think the best thing is to work with him on this, not order him to...next thing you know, he'll run off...instead of him finding trouble, trouble will find him."
'Wow, that just sort of came from nowhere...Why did I just say that?' Dean wondered. Then, horror-stricken, he thought, 'If it's true, Sammy's screwed no matter what.' Dean suddenly checked the room door, and was reassured it was as he left it.
In response, John thought, 'God, I love this kid...so much like Mary...'
"That's fine son, then you can handle that." Within John, some inner meter sounded indicating that was all the warmth he would allow to be seen; back to himself now, he cleared his throat and crisply announced, "as for me, I won't tolerate such behavior...I won't stand for that tone of his. Also, his head is still in the clouds, and he's not quite as focused as he needs to be...very dangerous. You don't get very far having doubts or reservations or guilt or any of those other emotions of his."
His dad has given him permission to work with Sam. Dean decided that's the best he can get out of him and, therefore, doesn't push the issue. Truthfully, being caught in the middle, he could see both sides. "I don't disagree...I'll take care of it," Dean concluded.
Acknowledging Dean's perceptiveness, John nodded. "Anyway, let's finish checking the car before we head out." He proceeded to pop open the hood and leaned forward to check the oil while Dean crouched down to measure the tire pressure.
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Sam stood before the mirror, towel wrapped around his narrow hips. "I am a hunter," he whispered to his image but he's not sure whether it is who you are or what you do.
He's alone for now and there was nothing to hide; all the turmoil plaguing him rushed to the surface of the deep ocean that is his mind. It was a rage that simmers and stews, threatening to turn him mad by leaving him with more questions than answers. He still dwelled on why he was unable to kill the kitsune. He's told himself that it's because he's never killed any living supernatural creature before but he's not so sure it's that simple.
More than that, he wrestled with the fact that he let Amy go. He is slightly disgusted to think what she may be doing now—who she might kill. To help him feel better, he deliberately perceives she is managing with nonliving food sources. Guilt tries to eat away at him but he stops it effectively by telling himself he must learn from his mistakes, get past this to move forward.
But then there was the more formidable inner voice of doubt buzzing around, saying, 'maybe it wasn't a mistake.' He had feelings for Amy and she saved his life. His compassion comes into play presently rationalizing that some monsters are more than just evil entities, it isn't just black and white.
Of course, he's aware his dad and brother don't see it that way which is why he didn't say anything, they wouldn't understand. 'Dean! Dad! They're out there waiting for me!' Sam suddenly realized. He quickly got dressed, afraid of what they might do if he was not ready to go after all this time. Done in the bathroom he hurried to grab up the bag that contained everything he owns and headed outside.
The sun's brightness hit Sam full in the face—it came from above coupled with the light reflecting off the empty parking lot; he had to squint to see. Even here in the northern region of the country, the clear day was uncomfortably hot. Any cool feeling on his skin from the shower rapidly evaporated.
He made out the car and saw his dad and Dean standing there waiting on him. Sam may be suffering but to him, they didn't look so great either. He stood firm by his decision that they don't need anything else to worry about.
"Did you guys get enough sleep? You look like shit" Sam stated point blank.
"We slept like friggin' babies" Dean answered sarcastically.
Sam looked at his dad who got to the point, "we decided to make it in record time…we don't plan on stopping for the night. Sam, you're gonna help with the driving."
Sam perked up at that. "Great! When?"
"You'll know when I know and not before." Sam sighed at that familiar answer from his father. He rolled his eyes and saw Dean slightly shrug his shoulders in response.
"Let's go kill some more monsters," Dean said before entering the car. 'And any fugly that so much as looks at Sam is gonna wish it was dead before it's dead,' he vowed silently.
