A/N: Sorry I've taken so long to update. I was on vacation and working and doing a bunch of other stuff I didn't want to do so I had like no time. But now I'm home for a month and doing afternoon shifts so I should be able to update a lot more : ) I'm going to finish my three multi-chapter fics before I start anything else so these will progress faster… Ok here's chapter two!!
---------
THIS IS GONNA BE REALITY…
-SAM'S POV-
-FIVE DAYS PRIOR TO 'AUTOPILOT'-
Goddammit.
There isn't really much else to say other than that.
Goddammit. Goddammit.
Tell Dean? No he'll think I'm weak. He'll say, "Let that chick pull one over on ya?" and I'll say shutup. But he'll still look at me that way. That way that screams, "Now I have to save you again? Jesus, Sam!"
I'll skip the looks of disappointment and go straight to what would happen any way.
Research. That's right I'll sit down with my laptop while Deans in the shower, or when he's sleeping or when he's out getting a drink. I'll find out what's really going on. I'll figure out how to fix this mess I'm in. I'll probably find out it was all lies. A curse? Yeah. Ok.
I'm probably blowing all of this out of proportion. Five days will come and go and nothing will change. There aren't going to be any regrets. No should have's. No could have's. Just hours of wasted thought.
"Sam?"
At the sound of my brother's voice I jump and look to the side. He's standing there, brown bag in one hand, hotel key in the other. The room already smelling of burgers and fries. His face, his face is priceless. Probably almost as priceless as I look.
"What the fuck, Sam?" he asks, running over to me as he lets the food fall to the floor. Perfectly good dinner probably destroyed. Why's he cursing at me, doesn't he-
Oh yeah, that's right. Guess I forgot about the room. Cause you see, scattered papers litter the floor, as well as paintings that used to hang on the walls and broken glass that used to form a window. Some pieces of furniture are turned over and damaged. But probably the weirdest thing is Sam.
Or, me that is.
I'm just sitting here on the floor. Smack in the middle of all the destruction, thinking. Not moving. Staring at the blood stained carpet before me.
When I hear him I look at my self, covered in blood. The injuries aren't too bad. Gimme a couple stitches, a couple aspirin. I'll be fine. I'll jump back up and get back to work. Because apparently both our lives depend on it.
"What happened Sam, are you hurt badly?" Dean's has both his hands on my shoulder. His head is hunched down trying to look at my face. Leave me alone Dean, just leave me be.
"Dammit Sam, Talk! Talk now!"
I slowly lift my head to look up at my brother. Man, he's pissed, or at least he will be, "She came." That's it? Because right about now I could say a lot of things, but all I choose to say is a pathetic two words. Do I enjoy making myself sound like a wuss?
"Who? The witch? She came here?"
"Yeah, she came here." That's the language Dean understands best, the hunt. The current hunt. We were hunting this witch in town. Dad's journal said shoot it with a silver bullet. It seemed pretty straightforward. That was before I tried that. Who knew? Nothing happened. Pretty much pissed the bitch off, and then she…
"Did ya shoot it?" Dean's looking me over and taking the liberty of poking my where all the bruises are beginning to form. He whispers sorry sometimes, even though I know he doesn't mean to.
"Yeah, it didn't work… Shit, Dean!" It hurt less before he tried to make me better. Goddammit.Goddammit.
"You need at least a few stitches for this over here…" he said pointing at some cut on my stomach, "Are you ok? Seriously? What else did she do to you?"
I didn't dare look up at Dean to give him any kind of hint. Just shook my head, not too hard, just enough to give the impression that I was as convinced as I was trying to make him, "Nothing else."
Dean nodded his head and didn't seem to think much more of it. Just told me I had to get cleaned up. Helped me change like I'm freaking five. Stitched my wounds. I hate being dependant, hate having to rely on my brother all the time.
If there's one thing I'm going to do, Dean is fix this on my own. I'm not going to ask you to save me again. Don't worry, Dean. I can handle this.
But I can still hear that voice in the back of my head, reminding me over and over. Telling me this is really going on, really my reality. Not to let this one get blow off and ignored. She wasn't lying; she wasn't lying.
Sam, you're being an idiot.
Goddammit. Goddammit.