Training was hell. And not just because Dean shared a room with 15 other people, or because none of the showers used hot water. Not just because alcohol was strictly prohibited, or because there were no girls anywhere. The worst part wasn't even that all communication with the outside world was watched, in fact, it barely came a close second.
The worst thing, out of all this shit, was that Sam wasn't there to commiserate with him. Or yell at him. Or roll his eyes when Dean complained. Sam wasn't there to point out that if he was in better shape it wouldn't be so hard.
Dean wasn't a pussy, so he would never tell Sam, but missing him was the worst part of training. Sam hadn't contacted him in almost month, and he was terrified he was going to pull a John Winchester on him.
Dean was bent right over the edge, and all he could do was ignore his screaming feet, begging him to take one more step.
-1 month earlier, after Sam was dropped of in California-
When the plane landed Sam had gone straight to his interview, which had been grudgingly rescheduled when he'd explained that he'd broken his foot, or torn a ligament in his ankle, or whatever the hell he'd done. When Sam got home, rolling in on his wheelchair which he hated so, and saw the cookies on the table he had smiled, for the first time that day.
Then he heard the shower turn off he frowned, Jess hated showering at his place. She said it made her feel cheap since she knew what would happen the moment she came out, all naked, hot, and bright eyed.
"Jess?" He called, wheeling into his bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorframe. She came out, hot, naked, and bright eyed. If it had been any other day then he would have been in bed in a moment. Today however he said, with a plastic smile on his lips "Hey sorry, I'm late things went…" Then Jess interrupted him, even though she hated interrupting or being interrupted by people.
"Babe, can we talk about this later?" She said, slowly walking up to him with a mischievous look in her eyes.
I'm a cripple. Sam thought, I haven't seen her in days, maybe weeks, after leaving spontaneously for unexplainable reasons, and now return in a freaking wheelchair, and she hasn't even blinked twice.
Jess carefully picked him out of the chair, and then pushed him onto their bed. Sam made the connection; that wasn't Jess. So when she crawled onto him he grabbed her wrists and rolled on top of her, pinning her against the mattress.
"You're not Jessica." He snarled, now certain he was right.
"Oh! Sam! It feels so good! Are you always so rough with your girlfriend?" Not-Jess smiled at Sam and her eyes flickered black. Sam was so shocked he almost let go.
"Demon…" He whispered, breathlessly.
"Bingo." It smiled, and even though Sam knew it wasn't Jess, his heart fluttered and he felt himself wanting to smile back. Sam had shifted internally for his mundane college life, but his fluttering heart reminded him that this wasn't Jess. This was a monster. So he shifted, not externally of course, it was all internal and it took just a millisecond. He swallowed the emotion.
Sam's eyes dulled. The pain disappeared. His mind sharpened. His muscles tensed for action. Thoughts moved at record speed and it took only a moment to consider all of the acceptable options.
He was vaguely aware of certain siduals and rituals made to trap a demon, but they were so rare that learning them when he could be out hunting was somewhat counter-productive. He remembered something about holy water, a correlation between them and vampires, but all in all Sam was clueless.
"Oh… Sammy," Sam's hands twitched as he resisted punching the demon, for fear of hurting Jess. "If only you would just listen to me… I'm just trying to warn you of the big bad demon." The thing said, using a condescending and babyish tone. It looked to the side for a moment, its tone becoming serious. "Better watch out, Sam. Master isn't happy with you." It looked back at him for moment, winked, then left in a screaming cloud of black smoke. Sam fell back off Jessica and onto the floor, his leg throbbing in disagreement.
"What the actual fuck?" He sat there for a moment before looking at Jess, stunned by her choking as she sat upright, as if awakening from a bad dream.
It was time, and Sam knew it. He had to explain that in reality she was waking up to the nightmare of his life, and there was no leaving it behind.
Jessica Moore was sitting in bed and staring blankly at Sam Winchester.
She had just been told that monsters were real. So were demons. In fact, she had just been possessed by one. She was crying, she didn't remember when she had started crying, but she hadn't stopped. They had been talking for around an hour when there was a knock on the door. Sam left it, but it came again. This time with the call,
"Mr. Winchester." Sam froze. Maybe it was the tone, like that of your behaviour correctional officer who has just learned that you have robbed another shop, or maybe it was the sternness, that told Sam she was willing to kick down the door. So, he rolled his wheelchair, this time clipping the door frame and smashing his ring finger along with it. Sam barely noticed though, his thoughts on everything that had just happened or might happen when he opened the door; on everything still happening and everything he had yet to process.
"Mr. Winchester, I'm going to knock one more time…"
"I'm coming!" Sam called, worried that Jessica's sobs would give away the secrets that had just been spilt. He turned to Jess and reached for the door handle simultaneously, but only one was a success. He saw Jess, and even managed to bring his pointer finger to his lips to try and quiet her. She saw him, and slipped into the bathroom to calm herself down. Unfortunately, Sam was used to being more than 6 feet tall. In a wheelchair, however, he wasn't even close to 5. It took a few seconds to open the door from such a different angle.
When finally managed it was Agent Lasalle, standing outside, who looked so fed up.
"Hello, how may I help you?" Sam asked, pretending to be ignorant as to his knowledge on why she was here.
"Is Jessica Moore here?"
"What do you want?" He looked up, making the eye contact he'd been so carefully avoiding.
The way she looked back at him… it was like Sam could feel that smug look of power that being tall gave her. He didn't care how long SHIELD expected him to stay stuck in this chair for, he made the decision there and then that was getting out of that thing as soon as he could keep both his feet planted on the ground. And what was so difficult about crutches?
"Is Jessica Moore here?"
"It's none of your goddamn business-" Sam felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.
"Hey Susie!" Jess said, a fake smile plastered to her face. "Sam, this is my friend," she gave him a strict look, "Susie."
"Ah… Um sorry." He said apologetically, holding his hand up high to be shaken. Hoping that Agent Lasalle had an identical twin that was standing at their door.
She ignored it, and Sam's hope was dashed.
"Susie," Jessica said again, now addressing her friend. "This is my boyfriend, Sam." And after everything they'd been through, it still felt unbelievable to hear the sound of his name roll off her tongue.
Lasalle's face stayed plastered in the look of someone who was sick and tired of nonsense.
"Mr. Winchester, Ms. Moore, sit down at the table please." Jessica looked confused, with a gleam of betrayal rising in her eyes, waiting for confirmation before it lashed out. Sam just rolled up to the table, which was that bit too high for him to feel comfortable sitting at.
Lasalle appeared at the door behind Susie, and strolled in, uninvited and unwanted. "Now Sam, I want to make this clear. You knew the rules, right?" Sam paused before saying,
"What are you..."
"For your sake, shut up. I mean-" Agent Lasalle made eye contact with Jess. "In fact, just come with me." She turned to him and gestured him out the door, closing it behind herself.
Jess sat forgotten, confused, and knowledgable of a whole new world of evil.
"Sir?" Agent Lasalle stood, still at attention, watching Nick Fury stew in his cushy leather chair.
"You're excused." He nodded to the door, and his attention turned to Sam Winchester. She nodded, leaving quietly. Lasalle always wondered what he thought about.
At that moment, Fury was thinking about how disappointed he was in Sam. All he'd had to do was not tell her, but of course that's what he'd gone and done. Now Jessica would have to be brought up, debriefed, and separated from the Winchester. It wouldn't do to reward him for his disobedience. Nick just couldn't understand what would drive him to tell her.
"She was possessed by DEMON, of course I told her!" Sam was shouting, tired, annoyed, and in pain; the idiots just weren't listening.
"You told a demon about SHIELD?" The broad shouldered latino man asked, his head in his hands. The boy had been brought in for telling his girlfriend, and it had only gotten worse from there.
"After the demon was…. exorcised." Sam lied, he suspected they wouldn't believe him if he said the demon had left of its own free will. There was a knock on the door and both the guard, Agent Witt, and Sam had sighed in relief at the break. Agent Lasalle came in and Agent Witt stood and saluted.
"You may go Agent." Lasalle said, stiff and annoyed. Witt left and Lasalle sat down.
"What-The-Hell Winchester. Effective of now, I am your Supervising Officer, my job being to make sure you don't commit treason. You've been in your home for what, three minutes? When all of a sudden you're trying to become a prisoner? Telling someone about SHIELD is enough to get you a life sentence, or a DEATH sentence!" Lasalle exhaled slowly and looked at Sam, who appeared to be considering what effect this would have of Jess. "Sam, just tell me what happened."
"I came into the house, Jessica Moore, my girlfr…"
"I know who Jessica Moore is, Sam."
"She was possessed, I exorcised her, she was freaking out, I told her everything." Lasalle nodded at Sam's mostly accurate story and rubbed her temples.
"No one told me she was possessed, that completely changes things, not as much as you would like, I'm sure, but enough. Jessica is safe; you can relax."
"Can I go to sleep now, cause, I've been awake for what, 30 hours? And I need to take my meds." Sam could go a while without sleep, and he wasn't so much physically exhausted, as emotionally exhausted.
"I don't see why not, I'll take you to your room."
By 'room' Lasalle really meant cell. A nice cell, sure, but a cell none the less. In fact, it looked identical to the cell that Fury had threatened him with maybe 2 days ago, the one with his name on it. It was nice enough, better than a good number of the motels he'd stayed in. He had his own shower, a small collection of books, and a bed that was almost long enough for his feet to not fall off. He could stay in this room and be fairly content.
