PART ONE: FAMILY VALUES
CHAPTER SIX: I AM SAM
SAM, WASHINGTON, USA
The days had blended together for Sam, and sleep did not come. Still, the mission was as it always was - save people and gank some evil sons-of-bitches. Sam had put particular emphasis on the second part of the statement. Somewhere between the 12th and 24th sleepless hours after Dean's death Sam had let himself shut down. The plan had been Washington and the plan still stood, but it had turned grim. He killed every monster in his path, demon, spirit, creature or otherwise with a hollow mechanicalness he hadn't experienced since his soulless days.
Sam looked through the windshield as if there was a fog in front of his eyes. He noted his blood splattered jacket and his fingernails, caked with black Earth and god knows what else. He noted it, and yet he didn't care to do anything about it. The car was filled with the crooning vocals of a song he hardly heard, and the lingering smell of fast food. His eyes passed over things in a empty gaze, searching for his next hunt.
The fuel light on the dashboard blinked to life and he was forced to pull into the next gas station. He pulled open the glove compartment and removed a small box. It's contents contained all manner of items, all 100% guaranteed to have him thrown in jail. He sifted pass the fake FBI badges and the Homeland security badges that normally would have made him nervous, but not today. He tossed them carelessly into the lid and pulled out the stack he was looking for- credit cards.
"Hello, 'William MacDonald', fancy seeing you here in Washington," he murmured, reading the name off of the shiny new Visa card. Snapping the box closed and shoving it back into it's spot, he exited with a quick look around and hastily shoved the card into the machine. He ignored any looks he got and promptly got back in the car without a backwards glance when the tank was full.
A paper from two towns back sat on the passenger seat, flipped open to the continuation of an article from the front page. 'Health Food Store Rocked by Blast', had been the title that caught his attention. He pulled away from the gas station and examined the pictures scattered among the words as he drove. His eyes scanned the article intermittently, half focused on the road and half focused on the paper. Dean would have shot him for jeopordizing Baby like that, but Dean wasn't here anymore.
He grunted in displeasure, tossing the paper back to the seat and taking a sip of his now cold coffee. "Angels in the middle of nowhere, blowing up grocery stores - fantastic. What the hell did you see here Dean?" he mused aloud, filling the empty void with his own voice. "Trees, Sammy, a lot of fucking trees!" Sam shouted sarcastically to himself, loud enough to leave his ears ringing in the small space. It was then, he realized he had lost it.
He pushed the paper aside and grabbed the map from under it, scanning for the nearest city. Somewhere busy enough that he could find distraction, and somewhere he had preferably never been. He needed a place where no one knew of Sam Winchester and his adventures. He struggled to find the tiny pinprick of a town he was in on the map and then began to scan the nearest areas. The name 'Starling City' jumped out at him, a small city by the map legend but somewhere new all the same.
It was odd, Sam thought that they had never heard of Starling city, that of all their times across these states there hadn't been one flicker of activity. No mention in the national papers, the place itself seemed to be hiding and that was reason good enough for him to check it out. He made a change of course, pulling a u-turn to go back to the exit he needed. He shifted in the seat uncomfortably, the long hours in the Impala finally setting into his mind, and by the stiffness in his legs it had long set into his body too.
His conscious now finally kicked back in, he looked into the rear-view mirror with a mix of shock and disgust. Suddenly, the looks he had been getting all made sense, he shrugged his jacket as he drove, tossing it to the floor and tried to wipe his hands clean with napkins that had been collected over their travels. He ran a hand through his hair to try and make himself presentable and chastised himself. "What the hell were you thinking Sam? Walking around bloodied up like a zombie, you're lucky no one called the cops!"
His nerves felt more frayed than ever by the time he encountered the sign that read 'Starling City... Is a Star City'. He couldn't help but snort at the cheesy tagline, he was certain Dean would have commented on it. The thought of Dean put a damper on his humorous thoughts and he re-gripped the steering wheel as he drove forward into the heart of the city. The memory of his brother's last moments flickering through his mind like so many times before.
Finding a motel had been easier than he thought, and this time 'Lucas DeSilva' was paying. He grabbed a newspaper off of the front desk as he left with his room key in hand. The room was small and dated, as were most of the motels he and his brother had stayed at over the years. He dropped his bag down on the bed along with the newspaper and headed immediately for the shower.
The water turned cold after hardly a minute or two and Sam cursed, moving ten times quicker now that the relaxing spray had turned to an icy blast. He stepped out a moment later breathless and chilled. He was quick to wrap the towel around his waist and go to search his bag for a clean change of clothes and preferably a warm sweater.
He was feeding his belt through the loops of his jeans when he heard a scraping outside the door. He froze, listening carefully, afterall it could have just been housekeeping - it was the middle of the day he tried to rationalize. There was a scraping sound again and he moved silently on his barefeet to grab his gun off of the bedside table. The sound happened again followed, this time by a set of frustrated murmurs and Sam pulled back to the wall, slowly sidling up to the door.
"Why are we doing this again?" a rational male voice asked.
"Dig, Felicity said that was the car-"
"So what, we're just going to check every room until something shows up?"
Sam frowned as he listened to their argument, he had no doubt that 'the car' was Dean's- no his 1967 Black, Chevrolet Impala- it stood out everywhere. But he had never heard of Starling City, let alone anger someone enough there to have them breaking into his motel room. He weighed his options and in his mind there were two: escape out the bathroom window, or stand and find out whoever this was. Then he thought about what Dean would have done - escape out the bathroom window, figure out who these asshats were and take them by surprise.
Unfortunately, he had spent too long deliberating his options and the door swung open beside him. Two men walked across the threshold, one tall with dirty blonde hair and the other a black man that looked more than displeased to be there. Sam was quick to guess which voice had been which from their expressions alone.
Sam raised the gun and flipped the safety, bringing their attention to him with the click of a loaded gun. "Who are you?" he demanded, his hands held the gun steadily on them. He noted their change in stance and compensated, tensing for the fight it looked like they were ready to bring. Whoever they were, they had been trained at some point or other to fight, Sam did not like these new odds. It was becoming quite clear that Starling City didn't feel the same about Sam as he did it.
The man with the dirty blond hair held out a hand in a gesture Sam recognised all too well. The 'it's ok, calm down, we won't hurt you' look he and his brother had perfected over the years of saving people. Sam kept his features a mask of impassible calmness as he ignored the hand and took in the man's features further.
He had a strong build and a blue steel gaze that followed Sam's every movement with a calculated coldness. None of that intimidated Sam though, his size and strength were enough that he could hold his own. No, what intimidated Sam was the scars that were clearly visible on his arms and around his collarbone - whoever this man was he had been through something much more threatening than a fist fight. That concerned Sam more than he cared to admit.
"What do you want?"
"Look, we can explain-" the second man started, but never got the chance to finish. The first man moved and Sam countered but not before getting clipped on the jaw. The gun fell from his hand and he urgently kicked it under the bed and out of reach. With the deadly weapon out of reach, Sam went for a take down. He blocked as the man threw another punch, grabbed him by the back of the neck and thrust his knee up into the man's stomach. Bent over and clutching his stomach, Sam was surprised at how fast his opponent recovered but wasn't about to let an opportunity go to waste. He locked his arm around the man's neck and held strong.
The man clawed at Sam's arms and it wasn't until now he even realized that the second man was gone. "Who are you?" Sam demanded again, driving his knee into the leg that kept trying to sweep him off of his feet. The man's struggle began to slow and Sam could tell he was gasping for breath.
"Oliver!" came a loud shriek that startled Sam into loosening his grip. He made to retighten but before he could, he was being attacked by a bright yellow purse. The purse smashed against the side of his head and Sam stumbled back, releasing the man. That bag clearly had more than a wallet in it.
"Felicity, what are you doing here?" the man called Oliver wheezed between gasps. The second man returned and the look on his face reminded Sam of a child caught red handed.
"I told you two not to do anything stupid!"
"Felicity-"
"You!" She shouted, her blonde ponytail like a whip as her fierce gray eyes turned on Sam. He was taken back by the ferociousness of the girl and the pair's reaction to her. "Is this at least him?" she asked as if to assure herself before interrogating him further. Oliver shook his head and then responded, finally returning to his full height.
"I don't know, but I'd say it's pretty likely," she stepped closer and Sam straightened, suddenly very aware that he was standing shirtless.
"Who- wha," the girl stumbled over her words now as she took him in, "do you work out? Ah, sorry, that's a stupid question." She corrected herself immediately, to Sam's amusement and by the looks of it Oliver's displeasure. "Of course you work out, I mean look at you," she said breathlessly, and then seemed to snap herself to attention. "I mean, you look good - ugh!" This girl was a far cry from the two men that had broke in, and Sam wasn't exactly sure how she had such a hold on them now.
"Felicity," Oliver warned.
"Right, who are you? Is that your Black Impala out there?" she asked, finally looking up to his face again.
"Who's asking?" Sam fired back, eying how close his bag was sitting. The gun might be out of reach but there was at least one knife still accessible to him and it was there. He needed to bide some time to figure out how he was going to get out of this situation.
"Felicity Smoak," she said in a rather chipper voice, "and I think you're Sam Winchester."
"How do you know that?" Sam asked, chin raised in defiance. Despite the mask he was fumbling, feeling rather exposed without a false identity to hide behind. A flash of a smirk crossed over the features of Oliver who now stood next to Felicity. Sam wanted badly to knock it off of his cocky face but restrained himself to hear what the girl had to say.
"You murdered a girl in San Fransisco."
"What?"
"Or I should say you murdered a meta-human in San Fransisco nearly ten years ago."
"Meta-human? What the hell's a meta-human?" Felicity's smile faltered and Oliver seemed to revel in this question.
"See, he doesn't have a clue what you're talking about-"
"Ten years ago? Listen, I was at school ten years ago," Sam said struggling to remember that fact himself.
"Where?" The second man demanded, finally bringing himself into the conversation, coming up on the other side of Felicity. Sam eyed them all in slight disbelief.
"Wait, you mean to tell me you three are intentionally hunting down a murderer?" Maybe these people were a little more like him than he cared to admit.
"Answer the question!" Oliver shouted.
"Stanford," he responded, leveling him with a steady gaze. "I was at Stanford 10 years ago." The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. "Law," he added before he was asked any more questions. There was a mix of aprehension, doubt and surprise on the original duo's faces but the girl's face lit up at the admission.
"You are Sam Winchester."
A/N- It's been a while but that's another chapter for you! Let me know what you think, flames are always welcome too! ;)