Sins of the Father. A Supernatural Fan Fic
Author: Steffykaye
Setting: two years after the pilot
Rating: PG-13/R
Genre: Horror/Angst
Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: The characters of John, Dean, and Sam Winchester are not mine
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has read my fic and reviewed. I really appreciate the positive feedback. Since this is my first fan fic, any and all hints/suggestions/criticism is greatly appreciated!
Chapter 4 - Darkness Rises
Sam stood outside the hotel room door. He struggled visibly again the darkness controlling him. The door to the next room opened and light spilled out revealing an attractive blonde woman. Although obviously a prostitute, the interest in her eyes was genuine as she watched the tall man standing in the shadows. She started to call out to him, a proposition forming in her mind. She stopped abruptly as he turned and looked in her direction.
'His eyes are so empty,' she thought, shuddering as goose bumps rose on her arms. 'It's like looking into nothing, an empty bottomless well.' She was reminded of when she was young and had come across a rabid dog in the street. She thought how this man's eyes reminded her of that animal. She whirled quickly and raced to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her. She would not venture out anymore that night.
The Sam thing grinned. It's eyes gleamed with unholy glee as it watched the drama unfold before him. He chuckled. The sound emerging from low in his throat. It was not the mirthful chuckle of a child. Instead it sounded like dry skeletal branches rubbing against a window. With a predatory glint in it's eye, the Sam thing allowed itself to contemplate the torture, degradation, and slow painful death of the woman. He didn't know why he had been brought to this unfamiliar place, or why he now had possession of this new body. His only thoughts dealt with death, destruction, and surviving to see the light of day. He was getting stronger. Every time his host surrendered to anger and despair, he was getting stronger.
He started towards the woman's room and his gloved fingers clenched in anticipation. As he approached the door, he felt the good fighting against him, struggling to regain control of the body. With a low growl of rage, he turned away. He was not strong enough to force the good into complete submission yet. The only thing he could do was carry out the dark wishes of the one he controlled. Those desires that the good managed to suppress.
He grinned. He may not be strong enough to force the host to kill the woman, but the rage against the brother filled him. It was something he could use to control the good. He turned and moved with a predator's grace back to the brother's door.
Dean turned in his bed as he heard a knock. "Sam, is that you?"
"Let me in, I forgot my key when I left earlier."
Dean got up and went to the door. "Dude, I didn't expect you to come back . . ."
The door swung open violently and slammed into the wall. Dean instinctively backed away, but the Sam thing was fast. It had the benefit of Sam's training and the murderer's ruthless intent. It grabbed Dean by the throat and lifted him off the floor, shaking him like a rag doll.
Shock emanated from Dean in waves. He knew Sam was angry but had never expected this.
'How the hell did he get so fast?' The room was dark, he couldn't see Sam's face just a shadowy form. He heard his brother's voice laughing in glee as he turned and threw him against the wall.
Stars exploded in Dean's head as his temple made contact with the corner of the TV stand. How could Sam do this? He had never even been able to hunt animals. He realized as Sam turned and started back towards him that he couldn't take the time to figure this out. He had to stay alive, and somehow bring down his brother without killing him. He wasn't sure he could do it. He had always known that Sam was physically stronger, he had just never had the instincts of a fighter.
'Not an issue now,' he thought as his brother stalked him around the room. He suddenly ran towards Sam trying to catch him off guard. Too late to stop the charge, he saw that Sam had his knife from the bed. He must have grabbed it while Dean was laying on the floor. He threw himself to the ground, Sam's thrust barely missing him.
He struggled to push himself away but realized that he was pinned to the floor by his very own knife. He had always known that his death would be a violent one. His final breaths seemed destined to be taken in a cheap hotel, lost in the middle of nowhere, no one knowing or caring how he had lived his life. He had expected to die the death of the lonely, he had just never expected it to be at the hands of his brother. He closed his eyes and waited. Even now, as he waited for Sam's fatal blow, he could not bring himself to do anything that could bring harm to him. His father had taught him too well.
Sam fought desperately to get back to the surface. He could not allow this thing to kill his brother. Not when Dean thought he was the one attacking him. Sam remembered the things the shape shifter had said as he read Dean's thoughts and how he had fought so hard to convince Dean that he would never leave him. Panic clawed it's way through his mind. He would not let Dean die alone, thinking that his own brother had betrayed him. Sam would stop this thing, even if he had to take his own life to do it.
Dean opened his eyes. What he saw had him drawing a quick gasp of disbelief. The light coming through the window illuminated Sam just enough so that he could see his brother's face. And the eyes of something else staring out of it. As he watched, the eyes slowly changed. The evil in their expression leached out, leaving confusion in it's wake.
"Sammy, come back to me. You can beat this thing."
As Dean watched, the creature in front of him slowly changed back to his brother. Now that he knew Sam would be OK, he could reach over and pulled out the knife pinning his sleeve to the floor. He stood up and slowly approached his brother. Although he knew this was Sam, he wasn't sure of the reception he would get. He reached out, hand shaking with tension, and took his brother's arm.
Sam stood as though frozen in time. He could not believe the things he had watched that creature do. It had tried to kill his brother. For one brief moment, Sam had wanted Dean dead for what he had done to Jessica. It was that thought which had him immobilized with guilt.
Dean watched the emotions racing across Sam's face. He had always been so easy to read. Even now, Dean saw that brief glimmer of hatred and felt the quick punch of it go clear through him. He had known Sammy would hate him, had thought he was prepared for it. But the pain was still there. Pushing it aside, as he had learned to do so long ago, he shook his brother.
"Come on, Sammy, you have to shake it off. You can't let this thing get to you like that."
Tears ran down Sam's face and his body convulsed with sobs. Finally, the dam had broken and the grief and anger he had felt at losing Jessica was being released. Although Dean knew that this was the best thing for his brother, he didn't know how to deal with this outpouring of emotion. Action was all he knew. So he led Sam to the chair, got him a cool washcloth, and quickly left the room with the ice bucket, mumbling something about needing a cool drink. Even though he was uncomfortable with the situation, he made sure that he left a light on for Sam and that the door was securely locked behind him. There may be unresolved issues with his brother, but that did not negate the need for Sam to be protected. After one last glance to make sure everything was OK, he jogged towards the vending area.
Sam glanced up, glad that Dean was gone. He needed time to compose himself. He knew that whatever creature had gained control of him had done so through his emotions. He also knew that he had never been as good at controlling that part of himself as Dean was. He had always envied his brother that talent. It was only recently that he had discovered the terrible price Dean paid for this ability. He no longer wanted to be just like Dean. He did not think he could have survived the things his brother had seen and done. He shook his head and forced himself to take action. Standing, he got the necessary tools from the bag and cleansed the room. He knew that it would do little good. That he was the one haunted, not the room, but doing something, anything, helped him clear his head.
He jumped a little at the sound of a ringing phone. He realized Dean had left his on the nightstand. He picked it up and noticed that the incoming call was an international one. Quickly he answered, "Hello, this is Dean's phone."
Aside from a sharp intake of breath, there was no response from the other party.
"Hello. If you're looking for Dean, he just stepped out, If you tell me who this is, I can have him call you right back."
"Sam, is that you?"
Sam's mind reeled as he instantly recognized the voice. He had not heard it for nearly 4 years, but it was the same, low and made slightly hoarse by too many cigarettes and too much drinking. He could not stop the bitterness from welling up in him. As he struggled with his emotions, he felt the darkness prowling at the edge of his consciousness. He pushed down the bitterness, he refused to lose control again.
"Yeah, Dad, it's me. The one person in the world that you never wanted to talk to again."
Dean paused outside the door. He was a little startled to hear Sam's voice. He strained to hear what was being said and felt tension creep back into him as he realized that Sam was talking to their father. Struggling to regain his air of nonchalance, he opened the door and strolled in, a wide smile on his face.
"Dude, I got us some provisions." He grinned and held up bottles of Mountain Dew and bags of potato chips. With a quick glance, he saw that Sam had already hung up the phone. And that he had taken care of cleansing the room.
"Hey man, you took care of all the fun stuff. I thought we agreed that the next time we had to douse a hotel room in salt and holy water, I was going to do it."
Sam looked up at his brother. He knew Dean had probably heard him on the phone, and that he was trying to gain control of the situation. It wasn't going to work. He had to talk this over with Dean. No matter what Dean had done, he was not going to let him face this thing alone.
"Dean, stop. I know you have been keeping a lot of secrets. I also know that you had your reasons. But we've got a bigger problem now. Dad called. He said he found what he was looking for, and that he needs us. Well, actually, he said he needed you, but there is no way that you are leaving me behind on this one. I am going with you. I am going to hunt down that thing that killed Mom and Jess, and I am going to be the one that ends this."
Dean sighed. He knew that John wouldn't like the thought of Sam being there. He also knew that John had never seen the steely resolve in Sam's eyes. His little brother had grown up. He knew that they were just going to have to accept it or risk losing Sam forever. For the first time since his father had thrust the infant Sam in his arms and told him to get out of there, he decided to go against John's wishes.
"All right, Sam. You win. Tell me what you know and I will fill you in on the rest."