Like a Punch
"Can you show me?" Jack asks.
Sam pauses, hand hovering over the pencil on the table. "What?"
"The pencil," Jack says, pointing towards it. "You said you were like me, right? So can you show me how you would move it?"
Sam swallows. "Uh," He says, pulling his hand back, holding it by his side. "I can't, Jack."
Jack looks at him, moves his head sideways. Sam has a sudden pang of Cas from the gesture. "You know," Jack says, purposefully encouraging. "Dean isn't here. It's okay."
Sam stares at him for a second, then the implications of that hit him. "No," He chokes out so fast the words almost get lost before they get to his mouth. "No, Dean's not…Dean's not the problem. He's good. It's just…I literally can't. I used to be able to, but not anymore."
"Why?" Jack asks him, wide-eyed.
"I don't actually know," Sam says. "Anyway. I never really had what you have. I saw visions of the future, and exorcised demons." He pauses, then "Well. I did move something once. But…it wasn't on purpose."
"It just happened, right?" Jack asks, nodding. "See? I knew you'd understand! We both have the same thing."
Sam blinks. "Um. Maybe," He acknowledges. "But I'm sure you're a lot more powerful than I was. And I was only ever able to do it once. Thirteen years ago. Not since then."
"Oh no," Jack says, crestfallen. "You tried and it didn't work?"
Sam's about to say yes but…that's not true, isn't it? "Not really," He hedges. "I…I guess I haven't really tried. Never have."
"Oh," Jack says. "Then why did you get me to try, if you don't think it works?"
Sam's surprised into a chuckle. "You're right," He says. "I don't know. But you're more powerful than I am, so I figured you might have an easier time of it. I'm sorry for assuming."
"Why don't you try now?" Jack gestures towards the pencil. "Maybe we could practice together!"
"Probably not a good idea," Sam responds. "My powers are…well. Not from a good place. It's probably good to just leave that as it is."
Jack's face scrunches up. "We're the same though, right?" He asks. "So are my powers also not from a good place?"
"No!" Sam responds hastily. "No! We got our abilities differently. You were born with yours. I…" Well…he doesn't know if he wasn't, not for sure. "I probably wasn't. It's different."
Jack starts to look even more distressed. "So whatever gave you the powers I also have is bad?"
Okay, this was getting out of hand. "No, Jack," Sam says firmly. "You're not evil. I promise."
Jack's eyes are impossibly wide. "If I'm not evil, then you can't be either."
Sam lets that land, settles into it. It's not fair on Jack, he realizes. It's not fair that he takes his baggage and projects it on this kid. Just this one time, he can do it. For Jack. "Okay," He says quietly, ignoring the prickling in the corners of his eyes. "I'll show you. Let's try it."
He sees the moment Jack gets what he's saying: his face brightens immediately. "Yeah!"
Sam smiles back, feeling it waver. "Okay," He mutters, turning back to stare at the pencil. "Let's do this."
He closes his eyes, lifts out a hand, lets muscle memory take over. He can sense Jack's concentrated stare as a takes a deep breath, trying to access the feeling that he hasn't felt in nine years.
Nothing happens. Not even a twinge.
Sam lowers his hand, opening his eyes. "Huh," he says, frowning. "It's not working."
Jack nods. "Yeah," He says, very world-wise for a days-old Nephlim. "It's difficult."
Sam laughs. "Yeah, you were right."
He examines the pencil again, thinking back to that moment in the closet all those years ago. He frowns. Like a punch…
The exorcisms has never been like that. For them, it was all about the buildup, the connection. The telekinesis had been a burst of energy, barely contained.
He'd been doing it wrong. He'd been trying to exorcise the pencil.
Sam straightens. "I'm gonna try again," He tells Jack, staring at the pencil. Like a punch, he repeats. Burst of energy. Uncontrolled. Let it out.
It's hard. He can feel the pressure rising in his head, and can also feel his brain's panicked response to draw it back in again. Like always. No, He thinks firmly. No. Not this time.
The pressure build and builds and builds, and then now and there's the concentrated burst and there's the pencil flying in the air and hitting the wall.
Sam blinks. Jack claps politely.
"That was cool!" He says, as Sam tries to process what he had just seen. "How'd you do it?"
Sam swallows. "I just…hit," He says. Oh God it's here it never left you never needed a feather oh God oh God. "You know. Like a punch."
He doesn't know if that makes sense, but Jack nods along like it does. "Cool!" he says again. "Will you practice with me later?"
Despite himself, he feels a smile start to grow. "Maybe," He allows, and then remembers…everything, and rethinks it. "We'll see."
Jack smiles and nods, looking like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. And for that, it was worth it.
"Jack," Sam says, and Jack looks back at him. "Don't worry about Dean, okay? I'll talk to him about what he said. I promise."
