Here's an extra long chapter for you all, enjoy! Only about 5 chapters to go...
Chapter 12 Start a fire
It's getting dark
and it's all too quiet.
I can't trust anything now...
Haunted, Taylor Swift
John frowned as he saw Sam's eyes slowly close and his body go lax. For a moment he contemplated just leaving with Sam and finding someplace private, where no one could hear the screams, to torture the information he wanted out of him. He didn't believe for one moment that Sam was as ignorant as he was claiming about Dean's where abouts. But at the same time, the thought of how gratifying it would be to just end it all now with one bullet, or even two, sounded just as appealing, even more-so. Precautions would have to be taken of course. He had thought Sam dead before and they had all paid for his overconfidence so he wasn't going to make any mistakes this time. It would be like beating a dead horse, but he had to be sure. Sam would not be rising miraculously from the dead this time.
So torture then killing, or just straight to the killing?
He went through all the possibilities that each scenario could result in. One thing that was certain was how stubborn Sam could be. With that in mind, torturing him would probably lead to nothing but more chances for Sam to find an opening he could take an advantage of. He couldn't allow that.
Mind made up he raised the gun.
"You're not really gonna shoot him are you?" a timid voice from behind sounded.
John smirked.
"You don't even know all the people he has killed, the lives he's ruined," he replied.
"But he's your son right?" Scott asked.
John turned around frustratedly.
"You've been on the fence this whole time," John said. "And I'm sick of it."
He raised his gun and fired a shot before Scott could react hitting the boy in the shoulder. Scott sagged against the wall, his hand rushing up to cover the wound.
"You said you wouldn't hurt me," the boy said through gritted teeth.
John smiled and let out a hallow laugh.
"I lied."
He turned back to Sam and pulled the trigger.
But the shot went off course as the gun was ripped from his grasp and thrown to the other side of the room. Then electricity shot toward him and he was on the ground before he could blink. These kids with their unnatural powers were a real thorn in his side. He turned onto his back, grabbed his spare gun from his waistband and started firing toward where Scott was.
He was answered with random bursts of energy with various levels of intensity. He could tell he had hurt Scott enough to affect his freaky abilities, though the electricity still hurt like hell.
STOP
He froze. All his thoughts disappeared, and his hands fell to the ground beside him, useless. He head fell back to the ground and all he could see was the ceiling.
"You okay Scott?" a voice called out in the resulting silence. It must have been the other kid that had come with Sam. It was a voice he hadn't heard before.
"I'm...alive," came the answer.
Then another new voice joined the conversation.
"What have we here," it said. The voice sounded more than familiar but the inflection was all wrong.
He tried to move but found he was as frozen as ever. His view of the ceiling was suddenly interrupted by a new sight. His eyes widened as he realized it was Sam, standing right above him. The gun shots and residual tremors didn't seem to be affecting him at all. The look on the boy's face was anything but the look he had grown used to over the years. It was Sam but at the same time, it wasn't.
"I said this would a great show and boy did you guys deliver Sam said with a tilt of his head. "And its not over yet."
Sam disappeared from view, but his voice still could be heard.
"It my turn now, time for my part in this little production," he heard Sam say. "Let him go Andy."
There was no objection. One moment he couldn't move, the next he was back in control. He sat up. The three other occupants of the room were now standing, although a bit unsteadily and slightly slumping in Scott's case, in front of the window all glaring back at him heatedly. Sam stood tall and proud, even though he was bleeding in several spots and was extremely pale. He looked anything but pained even though his body showed obvious sources of injury. It was unsettling to say the least.
"John, you surprise me," Sam said. "You would treat your own blood like...vermin."
Sam took a step toward him.
"For someone who is so stalwart on doing anything for blood...for family, you are severely lacking."
John looked around himself for a gun, but found nothing.
"You would torture your own son," Sam said.
John's eyes narrowed.
"Yes, I heard that revolting thought. I mean, torture is not revolting, don't get me wrong, quite the opposite actually, but morally speaking," Sam smirked, "if I had any morals and I were a heaven worshiping type of person...the idea of hurting my own son would be horrendous."
The sound of a gun cocking drew John's attention to the source: Sam's hand.
"Now I happen to like Sam a lot," Sam said causing John to frown. Why would Sam refer to himself in the third person? "And your constant shooting at him puts us in jeopardy of that little thing called death."
He tried to speak, but found his voice had taken a vacation. All he could do was move his lips.
"I already know what you're going to say," Sam said now standing right above him once more, gun in hand. "I don't want to hear it."
Sam continued on his out-of-character rant.
"I'm all for revenge and killing and all that nonsense," Sam said. "But only when I'm not the object of your desire."
Sam smiled, but it wasn't the smile he was used to. Since his voice was all but useless, he slowly moved his hand toward his back. An idea had popped into his head, albeit reluctantly, and, for Mary's sake, he had to be sure.
"You are so wrong, it's almost sad...tragic even," Sam said. "I wonder what you will do when you find out just how horrendously wrong you were."
"Now that...will be an amazing show," Sam said with a twisted smile. "With an overdose of angsty goodness."
Figuring there was no really good time to act, but that he had to do something, John pulled out his flask of holy water, popped it open, and prepared to fling it at Sam.
But he was stopped just as quickly as he had begun to act.
Those blasted freaks!
Sam turned back toward the other two kids.
"No, let him do what he wants," Sam said. He turned back to John. "I'm curious."
He frowned, cautious at the sudden approval of his actions. But a moment later his need to prove that Sam was an abomination drove him to fling the water after all.
"Ah," Sam said when the water hit the skin of his arm. "Doesn't hurt a bit."
While it didn't seem to be hurting Sam, it still left a rising steam where it had hit. He had never seen a reaction like that. It didn't do anything to reassure him either way on Sam's demonic status.
Before he had thrown the water, there had been the briefest of hopes, smaller than a pinprick, that maybe, just maybe, Sam was possessed. But with the rising steam from Sam's arm, that tiny little ray of hope had winked out so fast, it was almost as if it hadn't been there in the first place.
He was right!
Always had been always would be. All this nonsense from Sam about how he was so wrong...was just that, nonsense spouted from the mouth of a demon. No, Sam wasn't fully demon. The fact that the water didn't hurt him proved that. But the way that it smoked, proved there something demonic about him and that was all that mattered. It all made sense. Dean had said the demon had fed Sam his demon that night in the nursery. Sam had demon blood running through his veins. That made him as good as a demon as far as he was concerned. The holy water test had only proved it all.
Sam only smiled at him as if he knew the conclusion that John had come to. Sam then looked at the gun in his hands.
"I could shoot you, ya know," Sam said pointing it right at John's head, "But...I do love a good fire," he said after a while, dropping the hand with the gun down to his side. "I always find that a good fire brings back such fond memories, wouldn't you say John?"
John frowned, the anger his eyes burning bright. Sam sure knew just how to get under his skin and it unnerved him. He had never thought the sweet little boy he had watched grow up before his eyes could ever be so vindictive, so sweetly cruel. He had to kill him, that was all there was.
"I will kill you," John said, knowing that at the moment he was outnumbered in so many ways.
Sam smiled.
"Oh I count on it," he said with a sly smile. "But not before I cause as much unrepairable damage as I can."
He paused and bent down so that they were almost face to face.
"I will ruin you old man," Sam said, the venom in his voice almost palpable.
John shivered at those words.
"That's our cue to leave," Sam said cheerfully, standing up. "I'll meet you two out front," Sam said looking at the other two.
With a nod, Scott and the other kid nervously walked around John and down the hallway. Their fear was unfounded as, once again, he was held frozen in place.
Sam was the next one to walk around him, his gaze full of barely concealed contempt.
"I don't have to kill you to make my point," Sam said to him. "You'll do it for me when this is all said and done."
John shot all the anger and hatred that he could muster at Sam through his eyes as he watched the abomination that had become Sam, walk away. All his thoughts of Sam though were wiped away when he began to smell smoke.
Soon there was the telltale heat of what could only be fire.
Andy sat in his van across the street from the house, waiting anxiously for Sam to come out.
"What's taking him so long?" Scott asked from behind. He was in back of the van.
Andy could only sigh.
Then the front door opened and Sam appeared. He walked nonchalantly toward them as if he had all the time in the world. Andy could only dread what Sam had done that he could afford to take his time rather than running like a mad man away from the house like he and Scott had.
As he watched Sam cross the street, he contemplated what he was about to do and hoped that he was wrong.
"Scott," Andy started. "You can drive right?"
Scott nodded slowly.
"Take the wheel," he said, then he opened his door and stepped out.
Sam had finally reached the front of the van when Andy stopped him.
"What did you do?" he asked point blank.
Sam smiled.
"Smell the smoke?"
Andy's eyes went large.
"You set your dad on fire?" Andy said disbelievingly.
"Nah," Sam said, a strange glint in his eyes. "Sam wouldn't like that very much would he?"
Andy acted immediately.
GET IN THE CAR.
Sam only smirked.
"Don't worry," Sam said. "I'll do whatever you want."
Andy could only stare at Sam with a confused look on his face.
"Sam?" he asked.
"Oh he's in here," Sam said pointing at his head.
"Who are you?" Andy asked.
"An old friend of Sam's," not-Sam answered.
Andy frowned.
"Why didn't it work?" he mumbled as he turned back toward the van.
"It never worked in the first place," Sam said letting out a small chuckle. "I let you believe it though."
"Let Sam go," Andy said turning back to not-Sam.
"Well, if you want him dead, I can arrange that," came the reply.
Andy narrowed his eyes.
"Just get in the car," he gritted out.
Sam tipped his head.
"Gladly."
"And let Sam's dad go," Andy said walking toward the back of the van.
"Killjoy," not-Sam mumbled as he got into the passenger side seat. "You better drive like the wind then, cause that father of Sam's is going to be like a raging bull after this little escapade."
As Andy settled into the back, he kept a wary eye on Sam or whoever he was right now.
He felt disquieted at what he learned in the last few minutes. He wasn't sure that what was controlling Sam right now had their best interests in mind or not. So far it seemed to obey him, but what if he asked it to do something that it didn't want to?
He remembered the water that Sam's dad had thrown at Sam. The fact that it had sizzled but not hurt Sam had obviously thrown Sam's dad for a loop. Was it supposed to hurt? Why did it sizzle anyway?
What was it all supposed to tell Sam's dad?
He put that question on his mental list of things to ask Sam whenever this thing that had taken over, gave Sam back the reins.
"Punch it," Andy said.
And punch it Scott did. They shot away from the scene like a bullet, only to come to a screeching halt at the first stop sign they came across.
"Dude," Andy said, handing on to the seat in front of him for dear life. "I thought you said you could drive?"
Scott was holding the steering wheel in a death grip as he looked both ways before moving forward once more, slower this time.
"I can," Scott said finally, slightly raising his chin proudly. "I got my license last week."
Sam smiled and looked as if he would laugh. Andy rolled his eyes.
What a great day, Andy thought sarcastically.
I heartedly agree.
Andy looked up sharply at Sam.
Sam only smiled.
It was an angry and more than hell bent John Winchester that forcefully threw open his truck's door and got in, slamming it shut.
He quickly stuck his keys in the ignition and threw his truck into reverse. He had parked in the driveway of a vacated house several streets over. It would just be his luck to be found now, having ran from the scene of a suspicious fire. There were witnesses, but he hadn't stopped to let anyone get a clear look of his face or to answer any questions.
He pulled out onto the street, hearing the sound of sirens in the not so far distance. As for where he was head next, he had to get the heck out of doge before he could even think of that. As he drove away from the disaster he had just been a part of, he couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of doubt, like he was missing something; something big, but he didn't know what. He would never admit it, but Sam's words were making him think and he did not like it.
Never mind that.
All he had to do was think of what Sam was doing to Dean and all his resolve was strengthened. He hadn't stopped before and he wouldn't stop now. Screw Sam and his cryptic words, the only one who was going die when they next met would be Sam.
His white grip on the steering wheel had not lessened in the time following their escape. He had so much to think about, all while trying to focus on not killing them all with his driving in the waning light.
If you would have told him that morning that his day would end with him driving another person's van with two "gifted" strangers, escaping his burning house, and leaving everything behind he would have just thought you were one of those crazy homeless people that prophesied the end of the world that he saw on the strip.
Since it was the weekend, he was all alone in the house with nothing much to do. He didn't really have that many friends, so hanging out wasn't really an option. It was as if all the other kids could sense that he was different and so they stayed away. Perhaps that was more his fault then theirs though. He always knew he was different, so he shied away.
When it came to parents, all he had was his mom and that was only on the week days. On the weekends she worked on the strip at one of the hotels. He knew what she did, but they never really made a big deal out of it. She did it to pay the bills and she was good mom that was all that mattered.
Now their quiet life was ruined. He was on the run and the house was probably burned to the ground if what he had heard from Andy and Sam was true. His mom would be destroyed by the double blow, especially if everyone thought he burned in the fire. He felt horrible about that. Words couldn't describe his feelings.
Every mile that added to his separation from the life he knew, increased his anger and hatred for the man who had knocked on his door just hours ago claiming to be able to save him as long as he did everything the man said he needed to. The man, who was apparently Sam's father, had told him horrible things about Sam and his mission to "collect" special kids like him to use for some nefarious purpose. He had spoken of how Sam had tortured his own brother and was keeping him locked up who knows where. He had told him of how he could help to find Dean, that was the brother's name, and stop Sam from his evil doing.
How wrong that had been.
He was lucky that the shots had only been glancing. Still, it was more pain than he ever known in his life. As soon as that man had turned on him, it was all he needed to know that he was simply being used and that once his usefulness was through, that man would be more than willing to kill him off. Not only that, but the images that Andy had sent to his mind, strange as the whole thing was in the first place, explained everything that he and Sam had gone through before arriving at his doorstep and more. It was almost a tale to bizarre to even consider, but with his own strangeness to deal with, it somehow was all believable.
In the van all was silent. It seemed that everyone had their fair of things to think about.
He could understand that.
He was walking down an empty dark street. A lone street lamp lit the street he was walking down. The sky was dark and the stars were out. He didn't have a clue where he was.
Sam...
He looked around. There was no one around him who could have spoken. He walked on.
From what he could see, the buildings around him were older, reminiscent of the old western towns he had seen in his textbooks. One sign on the front of a store front read "Ghost Town."
Just where was he?
Sammy...
"Hello?" Sam asked aloud.
Nothing.
The place was quiet as ever, empty. He frowned.
Saaaaaam...
He looked around himself again. This time the open street to his right seemed to glow. He felt strangely compelled to move in that direction. With nothing else to go on, Sam followed his feelings. After a while the strange glow moved to his left. He stopped. It seemed as if the light was leading him somewhere, but was where he wanted and needed to go? The light pulsated as if to communicate impatience. He sighed and took a step forward toward the dim light. And with that thought a distant memory was brought to the front of his mind.
"Don't look at the light!" Dean said faking horror on his face.
They were walking through a dark forest on a hunt. The moon shown between the trees above them.
"I-can't-help-it," Sam said breathlessly. It's-so-beautiful..."
Dean burst out laughing and so did he.
It had been a once in a blue moon kind of thing. It had been his birthday and A Bug's Life had just become available at the rental store that he walked by on the way home from school. It had taken a lot of...bugging...to get Dean to watch it with him, but once he did, he had enjoyed just as much as Sam if not more. Dean had made him swear not to tell anyone that he had watched the kiddie flick though.
The memory made him smile.
Help me Sam...
Dean.
It was Dean who was calling him.
The more he stared at the light that was leading him, the more he became sure that he was supposed to follow, that where the light would lead was to where Dean was.
I'm coming Dean, he thought back.
A little over two hours later, the van pulled into a Super 8 motel parking lot in Kingman, Arizona.
Scott had managed to relax somewhat, but Andy was as tense as ever. Not-Sam sat in the front seat, a slight smile on his face. It angered Andy, but there was nothing he could do.
Not-Sam looked at him knowingly in the rear view mirror and tipped his head serving to only further irritate him more.
"Stay here," he said finally. "I'll get us a room."
Before he could completely exit the back, Scott called out.
"Can I come with you?" Scott was glancing uneasily at not-Sam.
Andy could understand that.
"Why don't we all go then," he said glaring at not-Sam who only raised an eyebrow.
He wasn't about to trust his van to whoever was possessing Sam at the moment.
They made quite a sight when they entered the lobby. Blood stained and weary looking like they had just murdered someone, they approached the front desk. The woman who greeted them gave them a look that told them she thought they were trouble. She reached for the phone, but Andy stopped her. Once he worked his magic, there was no trouble at all.
Minutes later they were in their room and ready to drop.
Scott stood awkwardly as if he was waiting for permission to make his next move.
"Scott," Andy said. "You can take a bed you know."
Scott looked sheepish. They had booked a double room. He could understand Scott's confusion, but he didn't have the patience to explain.
Not-Sam had taken a seat in a chair by the door.
"You," Andy said to him. "In the bed. Now."
Not-Sam snorted and raised his eyebrows.
"I never would've pegged for being that type of guy," he said suggestively.
Andy only glared.
"Sit, roll over, is that what I have to look forward to?" not-Sam said sarcastically.
"Just do it," Andy said frustratedly.
Not-Sam smiled and stood up.
"You really think you're gonna watch me sleep and guard the door all night?" he questioned.
Andy stood his ground.
"You won't last 30 minutes," not-Sam said moving over to the bed.
"Watch me," Andy said, taking not-Sam's spot in the chair.
"Gladly," not-Sam said putting his hands behind his head and crossing his feet lazily.
Andy crossed his arms angrily and began his watch.
It was a winding walk along sometimes wooden, sometimes not even there, sidewalks that brought him to where he was now. The area he had gone through was very touristy with gimmicky shop names and antiques in almost every other store. The sky above was starting to lighten just barely. Morning would be coming soon. It felt like he had walked miles yet he had not gone far at all. The roads in this place wound back and forth up the mountain. He had ducked between buildings and gone thorough alleyways to get to where he was, passing building after historical building. Maybe he wasn't even in the right time anymore. It was like he had taken a journey back in time. If it weren't for the parked vehicles he had passed, then he might have given into that thought.
Now he was near the top of the town from what he could tell. Here at the top looking down, he had a grand view of the valley beyond the town, all covered in moonlight, but he still had no clue where he was.
Sam...
This time Sam could have sworn he heard the voice coming from the building across the street. The telltale glow had vanished in that direction so he stepped into the street and made his way there. The streets were empty. No one seemed to be awake. He had yet to see any lights on in this town, but he supossed everyone was simply asleep.
The door that greeted him was large, made of solid wood and very ornate. It gave off a luxuriousness that was of decades gone by. He pulled it open and stepped inside. All was dark, but a glow up ahead told where he needed to go. He wasn't scared of what he would find as long as he found Dean.
After walking through a complex maze of hallways and up countless stairs, the light passed through a door at the end of the hall. Sam walked forward, his breaths the only sounds in the closed space.
When he reached the door he paused for a moment listening. Hearing nothing he put his hand on the door knob and turned it. Inside a dim light came in through a shaded window. He felt along the walls for a light switch. Just when he found it and flipped it on, something grabbed his leg. He kicked blindly and turned around in the new light.
"Dean!" he gasped, when he caught sight of just who had grabbed him. "Dean!"
He quickly bent down, tears forming in his eyes. Dean was a mess.
"What did they do to you?" he asked softly.
Dean was looking up at him with glazed eyes.
"S-am?" Dean said weakly.
"I'm here," Sam said.
"Why?," Dean asked before breaking into a coughing fit that shook his entire body.
Sam bent down to help Dean but found his hands went right through him.
"No," he whispered. This couldn't be a dream! Not a vision! It had to be real.
"You...you d-id this to m-me," Dean forced out.
"What?" Sam said confused.
Right before his eyes, Dean pushed himself off the floor, the various injuries disappearing as if they hadn't been there in the first place.
"I've sacrificed so much for you," Dean said standing up, towering over Sam. "And all you've done is through it all right back in my face."
"No," Sam whispered.
"You chose a demon over me, over dad, "Dean said. "All you've ever wanted is to get away, to be free of us, me and dad."
"You're so selfish," Dean said, his words dripping with venom. "It's a wonder I didn't do this sooner."
"Dean," Sam said, shaking his head. "You can mean this."
Dean smirked.
"Oh I do baby brother," he said. "You pushed me to this."
Sam face fell.
Dean laughed.
"Now the tables turned, you don't like it to much do you?" Dean said smiling, looking down on a pained Sam with enjoyment. "All those things I said, everything will be better, it's not your fault...lalala, I lied."
He tilted his head.
"Well not about the things will get better part," he said. "For me, not you."
"There has to be something else," Sam said quietly. "This isn't you."
"You tell yourself that Sammy," Dean said. "You just haven't seen the real me. What you knew was...a farce."
"What do you want?" Sam asked.
"I want you to pay up," Dean said.
"Pay up?" Sam questioned.
"The way I see it." Dean said, "You owe me."
Sam frowned.
"I'm working on something that will change the world, and I need you for it all to work."
"Why?" Sam asked.
"Because you're the perfect match," Dean said. "The others are great, but they wouldn't last half as long as you would or have the powers that you have."
"What for?" Sam asked afraid to know the answer.
"Well, it wouldn't be for a while and I would have to prep you for it," Dean said. "But all you would need to do is say yes at the right time and then poof, all your troubles would be gone."
A plan was forming in his mind.
"And until then?" Sam asked.
"That's a surprise," Dean said putting a finger to his mouth.
He smiled.
"Remember what I told your little friend?" Dean asked.
Sam frowned.
Dean put a hand on his hip.
"I want you to come to me," Dean said. "I may not like you at all, but you have your usefulness."
Sam just wanted to leave.
"We can do so much together," Dean said.
"What if I don't want to," Sam said.
Dean smirked.
"You still care about Dad?" Dean said.
"What about him?" Sam asked.
"He's coming," Dean said. "And I have great plans for him. He has a role in all of this as well, perhaps one of the most important."
"Which is?" Sam asked.
"He has a lot of sins to pay for wouldn't you say?," Dean said. "I figure he could use some special time down where the fire burns and the sun don't shine."
Sam's eyes widened. He may not have much love for his dad at the moment, but that didn't mean that the man should go to hell.
"I see that got your attention," Dean said. "He'll be in no time."
"You can't do that," Sam said.
"Wanna bet?" Dean said. "You're not the only one in this family with freaky powers."
"But why?" Sam asked, "Why do that to him? Why him?"
"Do you have a better idea?" Dean asked with a knowing glint in his eye.
Sam just glared.
"Time's a wasting," Dean said. "Dad is on his way. I suggest you get a move on."
Everything started to fade away.
"Wait!" Sam yelled. "Where are you?"
He looked around the room frantically for something, anything that would reveal just where Dean was. As if meant to be, the last thing he saw before it all completely faded into black was a poster on the wall that read:
The wickedest town in the west.
When he opened his eyes next, it was to find himself staring at a ceiling. He sat up. He was in a motel room. Scott lay sleeping the bed next to him. Andy was sitting half slumped over in a chair by the door, sleeping.
He had to get out of here. Alone. He couldn't let Andy and Scott come with him, their choice or not. He didn't need their deaths on his conscience because he knew that if they were to come, that's what they would face. Heck he would be facing that, but his life was his to risk. He wouldn't leave without a note though. Andy was his friend and had stood by him when anyone else would have ran the other way, he owed him that much. Scott wasn't quite a friend, but had they the time, they might of been.
Quietly he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out that pad of paper there. Both Andy and Scott were sleeping like the dead. He couldn't blame them. They had had an exhausting day. When he finished writing, he folded the paper in half and left it on his pillow. Then, with nothing else to grab but what he already had on himself, he got off the bed and quietly walked toward the door. Andy slept on as he opened the door and crept outside, closing the door gently behind him. Once in the parking lot, he searched out Andy's van. It took a few minutes, but eventually he was able to hotwire it. He felt bad for taking it, but he would feel worse about taking someone else's vehicle. Andy would be fine he kept telling himself. Hurt, but fine.
When he looked at the gas tank though, he wondered just how long this little jaunt would be since he was out of gas.
Look in your back pocket, a voice echoed in his mind.
Frowning and reaching back he found that he had a wallet there. When he opened it, he was shocked. It was his dad's.
How in the world did I get this?
I thought ahead, the voice said in his head.
How? Sam asked, genuinely had no memory of what happened after he had blacked out in that kitchen. His mind was still processing what he had seen in his vision.
I just took it, the voice replied.
And he let you? Sam asked skeptically.
He really wasn't in a position to resist, that voice said.
He wanted to find out more, but figured he probably wouldn't like what he would hear.
Got that right, the voice chimed in.
Sam sighed.
He's still alive right?
Sadly.
Shaking his head, he got out of the van and filled up the tank. Then he went inside to pay. The man at the counter was half asleep when he asked about the wickedest town in the west. The man had been surprising knowledgeable.
"You're thinking about Jerome," the man said.
"Jerome?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, winding roads, steep hills, well I mean, it's on a mountain," the man said. "It's an old western mining town, that's Jerome."
"How do I get there?" Sam asked.
"What are you 16, 17?" the man asked.
"18," Sam said quickly, the lie came easily to him.
"What do you want with a place like that?" he asked.
"Sightseeing," Sam said with a look that said he meant business.
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"Whatever lights your fire," he said.
It had taken a few minutes to get it all, but Sam was able to walk out of that convenience store with the directions written on his hand. He would be there by morning, hopefully before his dad could get there. Not only that, but Andy wouldn't be able to follow him. He had wiped that man's memory clean, with a few pointers from the voice in his head. He hated having to resort to such methods, but he wasn't hurting the man so he let it go and went ahead with it.
See, the voice in his head said as he pulled out onto the road. You can be brilliant. You just have to learn to let go of all that pesky morals crap.
Sam could understand what the voice was getting at and it scared him; mainly because he was starting to agree with it.
Where had being all self-righteous about everything gotten him anyway?
"Andy," a voice said.
Someone was shaking him. He swatted a hand at them to make them go away.
"He's gone Andy," the voice said. "Sam's gone."
Wait a moment.
His eyes shot open.
Immediately he looked around. Sam wasn't in the bed where he had last seen him. The bathroom door was wide open. No one was there.
"How long?" he asked Scott.
"I don't know," Scott replied. "I just woke up."
Andy stood up and put his hands to his head.
"Great," he muttered.
Not-Sam had been right about him not lasting the night. Now the question was who left the room, Sam or not-Sam?
"He left this," Scott said holding out a folded piece of paper to him. Andy took it and read.
The more he read, the more his anger at Sam eventually faded into sadness. Sam really had self-esteem issues if he thought that his and Scott's lives were worth more than his. But with what Sam had been dealing with, for who knows how long before they had met, whatever reasons he had for thinking the way he did, had to be deeply imbedded, and one heart to heart wasn't going to fix all that. But no matter Sam wishes, hell if they were just gonna let him go off and get himself killed. They were going to figure this out.
After all, there really wasn't anything he couldn't get if he tried hard enough.
"Uh, Andy," Scott said, a worried tone in his voice. He was standing by the window, looking out at the parking lot through the shades. "Where's your van?"
Andy's face dropped.
He didn't...
He did.
"Come on Sam," Andy said annoyed.
We are so going to find you and when we do, we are going to have a serious talk, he thought.
