Hey Sam," Brady called, wandering over to the young Winchester, holding two bottles of Sierra Nevada by the neck in one hand. Funny thing about these ivy leaguers, even when they were slumming, they did it with class. No crushed cans of Budweiser or watered down piss here.
Sam's attempt to be invisible appeared to be conversely making him quite noticeable as he stood uncomfortably away from the gaggle of people like a sick calf in a herd of buffalo. The Demon who now thought of himself as "Brady" wondered if the kid was aware of it. "You trying to blend in with the wallpaper?" He asked mockingly.
"Huh?" Sam had his arms crossed protectively and had been leaning his shoulder against the apartment wall. He looked behind him and seemed to take in the old-fashioned floral pattern as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh. Yeah."
"Sammy... Giving new meaning to the word wallflower." Brady smiled widely.
Sam's eyes flashed a little guardedly.
The demon watched with interest...what was this? A sore spot. What had he just hit on accident?
"It's Sam." Sam said firmly and actually with a bit of authority that the Demon had never seen from him. There it was. The bit of steel behind that soft exterior. That bit they needed. "You know I hate it when people call me that."
Ah... So that was it. Family issues. Sammy. The name reminded him of dear old Daddy, perhaps. Or maybe Dean.
Dean was a deep wound with this one. Well, to be honest, both his brother and his father were. Sam was fine on the surface. Thriving, in fact, but down below the skin, they were lurking there like an old healed over war wound. One not visible but something that would never, never heal properly.
Brady shook his head with a snort and smiled, white teeth and a dimple. He handed Sam the second bottle of Sierra Nevada as a peace offering. "You really shouldn't hate it. It fits you well."
"It really doesn't." Sam protested stubbornly, but he took the bottle. He employed the bottom edge of his Guns N Roses t-shirt as a buffer and used it to twist the cap off with his hand. Sam looked around for a waste bin, didn't see one, kept a hold of the cap in the same palm that the cold, sweating glass bottle was in.
"Okay okay." Brady said, swinging own bottle around with his hand gesture. "You win. Now are you gonna mingle?"
He saw Sam's gaze sweep the room. "I don't know most of these people."
"Duh... Party." Brady rolled his eyes. "That's how you meet people. You walk over to someone you know and they introduce you to their friends and then you become friends with your friend's friends. It's called networking."
Sam snorted. "That's a lot of friends."
"Never too many." Demon Brady said breezily.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You really have turned over a new leaf. You weren't too much better at this stuff than I was."
"I'm improving, Sam." Brady put his arm around him heavily. He dragged Sam sideways a little with his weight, purposefully acting more inebriated than he was. "Wanna ditch this place and get some air?"
"Yeah. Yeah I do." Sam agreed.
They headed out the door unnoticed and Brady could see Sam visibly relax as they stepped out into the beautiful Palo Alto night. There was a little nip to the air, but nothing more severe than a warm spring night in New York.
Sam looked up at the sky. "You know," he said. "It's so weird, cause the weather here feels like I'm on a perpetual vacation."
"Yeah?" Brady asked curiously.
"Well, here it is December and we're in t-shirts. I..." he cast around for words, almost as if he were choosing what to reveal. "We moved around a lot. But mostly it seemed to be a lot of little old towns in the rust belt or the Northwest. I don't know. Just...I'm used to cold and snow."
Brady looked at him sharply. "You don't trust the sun do you?"
Sam seemed to catch the entendre. He looked back, his eyes dark in the dim light. "I wouldn't say that." He took a sip of his beer, and snorted after a minute. "Okay. Yeah maybe. Maybe I don't trust it."
"Good things happen sometimes, Sam." Brady said.
The skeptical look was still in the soft eyes for for a moment. "I guess. I guess they do... Sometimes." He took another sip of his beer. "How are things with you, Tyson?"
The demon smiled. "I'm...I'm okay." He tilted his head. "Hey what are you doing about winter break? I know you can't stay on campus."
Sam ran a hand through his soft bangs. "No. I can't. I'm... I don't know, I was thinking I'd find a temp job and maybe just rent a room somewhere. I'm having a hard time finding anything though. There's always the YMCA or something."
Brady's look was bordering on disgust. "You're gonna stay at the Y? Sam, come on!"
Sam shrugged. "I'll stay wherever I can get always roof I can afford. Zach and Rebecca were sort of hinting that I could stay with them in Boston for the winter but..." he broke off and looked sideways. "I don't want to intrude."
Oh that damn Winchester Pride. Afraid to ask for a handout. Afraid to accept help. Not afraid perhaps, just stubbornly opposed to doing it. He'd rather sleep on a park bench then go live in a freaking mansion with his best friends if it meant keeping his pride intact.
The Demon almost felt some sort of sympathy for him. It was mixed with disgust at the kid's stupidity. How much harder did Sam have to make his own life by his choices? With a face like that, an intellect like he had, all fiery passion- Sam Winchester could have scammed his way through life with a bare minimum of effort. He could be in every woman's bed on or off campus. He could con his way into any job, circumvent the system-make it work for him.
But no. He chose the righteous path.
The path that led right through the weeds and thorny bushes that caught at his clothes as he passed. A path that would make him bleed from the thorns...one that could not lead to anything but him bleeding from his unnecessary sacrifices. All of them for no reason. For no reason other than some misguided sense of morality. Of wanting to do the right thing. Wanting to be a good person. So much irony that the true vessel of the Devil was literally hell bent on being a saint.
It was going to be so beautiful to break Sam down. To twist that brightly shining soul into something unnatural. Into something hard and manipulative. Into something like, well like Azazel. How utterly incredible that would be... Sam would be powerful and cunning. All that intellect combined with his sheer strength and unbending will would made him perfect to lead. And later still, a perfect vessel once Lucifer was freed. Then Sam Winchester would be gone of course, and only that tall vessel inhabited by the Light Bringer would remain. But most of the fun was going to be on the road to make that happen.
"Well I was thinking," Brady said slowly, drawing out the syllables. "That since I'm not going back to my parents this break, we could rent a place off campus together."
Sam looked a bit crestfallen. "You aren't at all? Not even for Christmas?"
"Nope." Brady replied with a sip of his beer. "Fuck them."
Sam kept the disappointed look.
"Sam, come on. You, of all people, should know what I'm taking about."
"I do." Sam said, scuffing the sidewalk with his shoe. "But... Brady. I... you should be with your family for the holidays, man."
"Sam, the discussion is closed."
Brady saw Sam's jaw go tight and a little defiant light flicker in those mercurial eyes, but then he sipped his beer to cover the temper and he was back to being soft Sam again. "There's no apartments to be found right now. Not within a ways of here. Most people don't want to do the couple months with no lease thing."
Brady rolled his shoulder. "You know my parents. I can hook us up. You in or out?"
Sam drained the last of the beer. "In," he said, tossing the cap on the ground where it bounced before it landed in the grass.
tbc...
