Dreaming in Stereo, Supernatural, Part 3
Sep. 16th, 2006 02:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Dreaming in Stereo, Part 3 (Part One here, Part Two here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess, John
Rating: overall NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, memory of rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 085 Hate
Word Count: 2787
Summary: Time heals all wounds, but life for a Winchester doesn't wait. Sam and Dean are still working through the changes in their lives, back on the road, hunting. Nightmares of the past pave the way for nightmares of the future, and lead all three Winchesters to a showdown with the evil that started them on their path.
Warnings: Very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son" and "Where it Hurts" and "All for One and One for All" (A gifty fic written for my birthday by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shotofjack... The overall story will involve torture and rape and extreme violence.
The first part of "The Good Son" can be found here
The first part of "Where it Hurts" can be found here
And "All for One and One for All" can be found here
This is my sixteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_situations. Clicky for table
”Sam.”
“Jess.” Sam doubled over, his stomach burning as she stepped out of the dark. “Jessica.”
Her smile was soft. Her hand rose up as if to touch him, then stopped. “I’m so proud of you Sam.”
“What’s happening to me?”
“You’re getting ready.”
He shook his head. “No…it doesn’t feel like…”
Her smile faded. “They doubt you. They’re afraid for you.”
He nodded. He knew that. He could feel it in their eyes. “I need them.”
She shook her head, her eyes on his. “No Sam. They need you.”
“Dean—“
She laughed. “Dean needs you the most Sam. He doesn’t even know who he is anymore without you.”
“No, Jess. God…He’s…” His voice trailed off as she moved closer. The ends of her hair danced with tiny flames. He could feel her, not exactly physical…but more than just…static. “Jess.” It came out as a moan as tears filled his eyes.
“If you stay with them you will get them killed.”
“No.” Sam shook his head, but in his mind he could see them both reeling after the last vision, feel his pain echoing back to him through them and back out again. Sooner or later the loop would get to be too much.
“Sam, they can’t handle the visions, not with what’s coming.”
Sam closed his eyes. “I need them.”
“You have me.” Her hand touched his cheek and fire raced through him.
“Jess,” he gasped, his hand flying up to touch hers. “My God…”
“Come to me, Sam.”
She was stepping away and he could still feel her touch on his face. “Jess…”
“You know where to find me. I’m waiting.”
“Jess!” Sam sat up, grabbing at his cheek, finding it warm to the touch. His father mumbled and opened his eyes.
“Sam?”
Breathing heavy, Sam tried to pull himself together. Dream. He recoiled then from the connection, from the comfort and love he could feel from his father. He was still trying to calm his heart when the pain stabbed him through the head and he fell back into the pillow screaming. Screaming. Agony. People writhing as demons tormented them.
“No!” He felt John’s hands on him, but pushed him away. “Need to see.”
The little girl, her dress dripping with blood. Her eyes glowing yellow-gold. “I’m going to kill them just like I did your mother. You’ll feel their blood on your face.”
The pain intensified, Sam’s hand fisted in the sheets under him as he screamed, vaguely aware his father was yelling too. The little girl screamed, reaching for him. All around her others gathered, children…bodies that once were children, now filled with darkness, their eyes black. “You know what I want.”
Sam did know. ”I’ll make it easy for you.” The building…familiar…terrifyingly familiar. His home for his last year at Stanford, Jessica’s face in the window.
“No!” Sam screamed, even as the vision faded. He lashed out wildly, felt blood dripping from his nose and tried to breathe through it…but the blackness hit and he lost consciousness.
It was brief, his head pounding as he sluggishly pulled himself up. John lay half across him, knocked out by the same blast. Sam pulled himself free and climbed to his feet. His stomach shook, part from the sleeping pill still in his system, part from the pain in his head, part from what he was about to do.
His duffle was on the floor near the door. He took a minute to shove several weapons into it from out of Dean’s. He went back to his father and squatted next to him. He wasn’t hurt…he could tell that much without touching him, but it would be a while before he woke. All the better for Sam. I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t keep hurting you. It’s time to end this.
Before he could change his mind, Sam grabbed his bag and opened the door, startled when Dean fell toward him, across the door step. “Dean.”
Sam knelt down, checking for a pulse. He was alive. Sam looked around them, but they were alone. It was obvious he had done this, just like he’d done to his father. Sam set his jaw and put his bag down. He couldn’t leave Dean out here alone and vulnerable.
He put his hands under Dean’s shoulder’s and dragged him into the room, dragging salt with them. Once Dean was in the room, Sam tidied up the salt line in front of the door and brought in the bag of groceries Dean had dropped. “Damn it.” He wasn’t sure what he was cursing. He looked around the room and realized that they would only follow him. He searched through Dean’s pockets until he found the car keys.
Dean’s face was peaceful as Sam bent to kiss him, lightly, their lips barely touching. He felt his brother inside him and for a moment clung to him…then carefully, deliberately separating himself, building a wall between them. “I gave you everything Dean…but it was wrong. This is mine. Alone. Hate me for it if you want.”
Sam squared his shoulders and left the room, pausing to make sure the door was locked and sealing it, his fingers tracing an invisible sigil into the wood. It would take Dean awhile to break through that…if he even figured out what it was. Sam paused as the glow of the mark faded, realizing he wasn’t sure where he’d learned that…pretty sure he never had. The pain in his head ratcheted up a notch and he backed away from the door, stumbling around the building to the Impala.
Dean groaned with the effort of opening his eyes. His body felt as though something had tried to pull him apart. His head was filled with static and pain and…Sam…Sam was gone. The emptiness told him more than the fullness…his head was filled with his own sluggish thoughts, his own pain.
He sat up, his eyes sweeping the room. Sam’s stuff was gone. “Damn!” He pulled himself up, on to his feet, staggering a little as he moved toward the bed. “Dad! Dad, wake up.” He touched John, even as the bigger man rolled over and groaned.
“What happened?”
“Sam’s gone.” Gone…Sam’s gone. Fuck. Fuck.
“What?” John sat up, holding his head. “Where?”
Dean shook his head, and sank onto the bed. “Gone.” His hand went to his pocket. “Damn him, he took the car.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dean had a flash of memory, an image…an echo of a dream. “He’s gone to face it…alone.”
John was on his feet. “We have to go after him.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, we do. But first, we have to get through the door.” He looked at the door, picking out the sense of Sam’s hands tracing a symbol. “He’s sealed us in…and everything else out.”
John ran a hand over the door, feeling for what Dean obviously saw. “I don’t sense it.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah…Sammy’s been holding back on us, Dad. He’s sealed us in pretty good.” He sighed. There was more…something…but when he chased it all he found was the wall between him and his brother. Sam.
Sam.
Sam clenched his jaw, pushed on the accelerator and ignored the tiny touch of his brother’s thought, locking it out. The speedometer was topped out, the Impala shook around him. It smelled like Dean…and blood. Sam shook his head and blocked it out.
I don’t need you to protect me, Sammy.
Sam pushed harder at the wall. Yes, Dean. You do. You just don’t know how much.
“California.” Dean said suddenly, sitting up in the passenger seat of the car they stole to follow Sam. His eyes are dry as he rubs them and looks aside at his father.
“What?”
Dean cleared his throat. “Sam is headed for California.”
John’s eyes danced across the road in front of them and back at Dean. “I don’t like it.”
“No.” Dean didn’t like it either. He didn’t like any of it, least of all that his brother had essentially cold-cocked them both via this connection and run away because of some misguided desire to protect them…or, rather because it was Sam himself that Sam was trying to protect them from, or because Sam didn’t even realize that.
He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. The wall Sam had thrown up between them made it hard to reach him consciously…but did nothing to keep Dean from reading Sam’s subconscious. In fact, it almost made it…easier. Dean couldn’t explain it, wasn’t comfortable with it. Everything. Dean was starting to get a handle on what that actually meant. “Faster, Dad. Faster.”
Sam sat staring at the building, remembering the flames, the pain…the fury as Dean dragged him out of it two years before. Two years. It was empty. He could tell that without even getting out of the car. The school year wasn’t quite over, but the whole block of student housing seemed empty. There was movement at the bedroom window…a face. Jess.
Sam got out of the car and crossed the street. The air was still, the street quiet. Not like when he had last been here. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Sam climbed the stairs slowly, reaching for the door. It came open easily, letting him into a living room devoid of furniture. Scattered papers on the floor attested to life that had once occupied the room, abandoned. If he closed his eyes he could see Dean there, making eyes at Jess, smirking, dragging Sam back into the dark.
With a deep breath he moved into the kitchen. It too was empty, but he could almost smell the cookies Jess had left for him. He closed his eyes, following the same trail he had that night…into the bedroom…the sound of the shower soothing.
A dirty mattress lay on the floor, a broken and lumpy remnant of someone’s college life. Sam sank onto it. He’d driven without stopping. Sleep pulled at him. He fell back, his eyes moving to the ceiling where he’d last seen Jess. The ceiling was dark, empty. He closed his eyes. “Jess,” he whispered as he let sleep pull him down. “I’m here.”
John pulled off the road when his eyes burned and his stomach growled. “Wake up.” He touched Dean’s arm. “Wipe down the car. We need to get a new one.”
Dean stretched, eyeing the bright neon lights around them. “Vegas?”
John smiled. “What place better to lose a stolen car and find a new one?”
Dean nodded. “Something fast.”
“I’ll look around.”
Dean pulled their things out of the trunk of the stolen Toyota and dug a rag out his bag. At one time it had been a t-shirt. Sam’s t-shirt. Sam. No. Dean forced himself to blank out his mind and concentrate on his task. Wipe the car clean. Inside and out.
Two hours and a couple of lousy burgers later, Dean steered a beat up Mark IV onto the 95 north while his father dozed next to him. Sam was already in California, and they were going to run into interference soon. Dean didn’t think about how or why he knew that, just adjusted the gun under his right thigh and pressed harder on the accelerator.
Sam opened his eyes sleepily, not sure if he was even awake, or just dreaming. Jess smiled at him…her body laying in a mirror image of his own, her hair spread out on the mattress behind her. “Sam.”
He took a slow breath and felt the tears building. “I’m here, Jess.” He blinked, half expecting her to disappear. “Am I dreaming?”
She shook her head. “No Sam. Not dreaming.”
No, he was going crazy. He should never have come here, should never have left Dean and their father. “What then?”
“Its coming for you.”
“You said that before.” Something nagged him, a feeling…
“You need to be ready.”
He looked into her eyes, looking for reassurance. “I miss you so much, Jess.”
“I know.” Her hand was on his cheek, hot, solid…He closed his eyes and savored the touch. “I’ve watched and waited for you. I was here last year when you came…but you didn’t see me.”
Memories of last year surfaced. He’d walked past this place then…that night…after the fight with his father. He hadn’t stopped. Couldn’t bear to…”He hurt you.”
Sam flinched. “Garrett,” he murmured.
“No Sam.” He opened his eyes. She seemed to have tears in her eyes. “Not him. Your father. He always hurts you.”
Sam felt a stab in his stomach. “No, Jess…its…he doesn’t mean to. Its comp—“
“Complicated? I saw Sam. I saw it all.” Her hand moved over his face, tender but still hot. “Every time the subject came up…I saw.” She stroked over his eyes and he felt that old familiar pain wash over him.
“He’s changed.” Sam breathed it. He rolled onto his back, his eyes going to the ceiling. Her hand slipped from his face down to his chest. In his mind he saw his father like he’d been in Kansas…proud, loving.
“And you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We’ve all changed Jess.”
“No Sam. Not all of you.”
She rolled onto her back too, her hand sliding down to entwine in his. Sam knew what she meant, but wasn’t ready yet. He sighed. “He still controls you.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” It came out cold, hard and he hated himself for it. “No one controls me Jess, least of all Dean.”
He didn’t see her smile, dark and dangerous. “No? You left me on your own then?”
Sam’s breath caught in his chest. “God, Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I never…I loved you.”
“But you love him more.”
“No.” He sat up and pulled his hand free. “Its not…its…” How could he begin to define it?
“Complicated?” Her hand was on his back now. Her fingers traced his spine.
“I’d be dead now if it weren’t for him.”
“We’d be together.” She said it softly, and he twitched.
“He’s given me everything.”
“No Sam. You’ve done that…you’ve given him everything…you always have…anything for him…your time, your dreams, me…your life…your mind…your…body.” Her hand slid around him, slipping between his legs.
“Jess…no…stop…”
He felt himself falling, back to the dirty mattress. Her hand stroked him and he tried to jerk away. “He gave you his body…his skin…” She leaned over him, her lips hovering near his. “He let you mark him…but that mark…” her hand closed over the brand on his thigh. “It didn’t mark him as yours Sam…it was him…taking control…branding over Garrett’s claim with him own.”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “No. It was my idea.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice was deeper, husky and Sam started as she kissed him, gasping as it burned, her tongue seeking out his. “Maybe I just let you think that.”
Sam’s eyes flew open. Instead of Jessica, Dean’s face smirked down at him, his eyes dark with hatred. “Dean?” Dean.
Dean cussed as he wrenched the car around a curve, narrowly missing the trap set up for them. It was the third one in an hour. They were near Turlock, California. The truck stop had been a nightmare, dodging black eyed lackeys and fighting their way back to the car. He’d plowed down a pregnant woman to get way and tried to tell himself she was already dead before she’d stepped in front of them.
“Careful, there’s more.” John said, pumping the shotgun as he prepared to lean out the window.
“See them. Hold on.”
Dean spun them around in a parking lot and sped them back out onto the road, leaving the two cars behind as he literally stood on the gas. “This is ridiculous.”
“We need to find a way to hide ourselves.”
Dean shook his head. “Can’t hide and move. We have to reach Sam.”
“Maybe we can.”
Dean looked aside at his father. “You gotta plan?”
“Keep driving.” John reached into the backseat for his journal. “Find us some sacred ground, a cemetery or church. I might have a trick or two that will work.”
Dean nodded and concentrated on the task of getting them to safety without killing anyone else. Dean.
He stiffened. Sammy? It had been the first touch in more than 30 hours. He was scared. “Fuck.” Dean spotted the Catholic Church and screeched to a halt, turning the car into its parking lot and pulling as close to the church building as he could get. He closed his eyes and reached out, but Sam was gone again, back behind the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slammed the steering wheel and got out of the car, leaving his father to do whatever magic he had in mind, while he filled flasks with holy water inside.
Next Part Here
Title: Dreaming in Stereo, Part 3 (Part One here, Part Two here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess, John
Rating: overall NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, memory of rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 085 Hate
Word Count: 2787
Summary: Time heals all wounds, but life for a Winchester doesn't wait. Sam and Dean are still working through the changes in their lives, back on the road, hunting. Nightmares of the past pave the way for nightmares of the future, and lead all three Winchesters to a showdown with the evil that started them on their path.
Warnings: Very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son" and "Where it Hurts" and "All for One and One for All" (A gifty fic written for my birthday by
shotofjack... The overall story will involve torture and rape and extreme violence.The first part of "The Good Son" can be found here
The first part of "Where it Hurts" can be found here
And "All for One and One for All" can be found here
This is my sixteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on
100_situations. Clicky for table”Sam.”
“Jess.” Sam doubled over, his stomach burning as she stepped out of the dark. “Jessica.”
Her smile was soft. Her hand rose up as if to touch him, then stopped. “I’m so proud of you Sam.”
“What’s happening to me?”
“You’re getting ready.”
He shook his head. “No…it doesn’t feel like…”
Her smile faded. “They doubt you. They’re afraid for you.”
He nodded. He knew that. He could feel it in their eyes. “I need them.”
She shook her head, her eyes on his. “No Sam. They need you.”
“Dean—“
She laughed. “Dean needs you the most Sam. He doesn’t even know who he is anymore without you.”
“No, Jess. God…He’s…” His voice trailed off as she moved closer. The ends of her hair danced with tiny flames. He could feel her, not exactly physical…but more than just…static. “Jess.” It came out as a moan as tears filled his eyes.
“If you stay with them you will get them killed.”
“No.” Sam shook his head, but in his mind he could see them both reeling after the last vision, feel his pain echoing back to him through them and back out again. Sooner or later the loop would get to be too much.
“Sam, they can’t handle the visions, not with what’s coming.”
Sam closed his eyes. “I need them.”
“You have me.” Her hand touched his cheek and fire raced through him.
“Jess,” he gasped, his hand flying up to touch hers. “My God…”
“Come to me, Sam.”
She was stepping away and he could still feel her touch on his face. “Jess…”
“You know where to find me. I’m waiting.”
“Jess!” Sam sat up, grabbing at his cheek, finding it warm to the touch. His father mumbled and opened his eyes.
“Sam?”
Breathing heavy, Sam tried to pull himself together. Dream. He recoiled then from the connection, from the comfort and love he could feel from his father. He was still trying to calm his heart when the pain stabbed him through the head and he fell back into the pillow screaming. Screaming. Agony. People writhing as demons tormented them.
“No!” He felt John’s hands on him, but pushed him away. “Need to see.”
The little girl, her dress dripping with blood. Her eyes glowing yellow-gold. “I’m going to kill them just like I did your mother. You’ll feel their blood on your face.”
The pain intensified, Sam’s hand fisted in the sheets under him as he screamed, vaguely aware his father was yelling too. The little girl screamed, reaching for him. All around her others gathered, children…bodies that once were children, now filled with darkness, their eyes black. “You know what I want.”
Sam did know. ”I’ll make it easy for you.” The building…familiar…terrifyingly familiar. His home for his last year at Stanford, Jessica’s face in the window.
“No!” Sam screamed, even as the vision faded. He lashed out wildly, felt blood dripping from his nose and tried to breathe through it…but the blackness hit and he lost consciousness.
It was brief, his head pounding as he sluggishly pulled himself up. John lay half across him, knocked out by the same blast. Sam pulled himself free and climbed to his feet. His stomach shook, part from the sleeping pill still in his system, part from the pain in his head, part from what he was about to do.
His duffle was on the floor near the door. He took a minute to shove several weapons into it from out of Dean’s. He went back to his father and squatted next to him. He wasn’t hurt…he could tell that much without touching him, but it would be a while before he woke. All the better for Sam. I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t keep hurting you. It’s time to end this.
Before he could change his mind, Sam grabbed his bag and opened the door, startled when Dean fell toward him, across the door step. “Dean.”
Sam knelt down, checking for a pulse. He was alive. Sam looked around them, but they were alone. It was obvious he had done this, just like he’d done to his father. Sam set his jaw and put his bag down. He couldn’t leave Dean out here alone and vulnerable.
He put his hands under Dean’s shoulder’s and dragged him into the room, dragging salt with them. Once Dean was in the room, Sam tidied up the salt line in front of the door and brought in the bag of groceries Dean had dropped. “Damn it.” He wasn’t sure what he was cursing. He looked around the room and realized that they would only follow him. He searched through Dean’s pockets until he found the car keys.
Dean’s face was peaceful as Sam bent to kiss him, lightly, their lips barely touching. He felt his brother inside him and for a moment clung to him…then carefully, deliberately separating himself, building a wall between them. “I gave you everything Dean…but it was wrong. This is mine. Alone. Hate me for it if you want.”
Sam squared his shoulders and left the room, pausing to make sure the door was locked and sealing it, his fingers tracing an invisible sigil into the wood. It would take Dean awhile to break through that…if he even figured out what it was. Sam paused as the glow of the mark faded, realizing he wasn’t sure where he’d learned that…pretty sure he never had. The pain in his head ratcheted up a notch and he backed away from the door, stumbling around the building to the Impala.
Dean groaned with the effort of opening his eyes. His body felt as though something had tried to pull him apart. His head was filled with static and pain and…Sam…Sam was gone. The emptiness told him more than the fullness…his head was filled with his own sluggish thoughts, his own pain.
He sat up, his eyes sweeping the room. Sam’s stuff was gone. “Damn!” He pulled himself up, on to his feet, staggering a little as he moved toward the bed. “Dad! Dad, wake up.” He touched John, even as the bigger man rolled over and groaned.
“What happened?”
“Sam’s gone.” Gone…Sam’s gone. Fuck. Fuck.
“What?” John sat up, holding his head. “Where?”
Dean shook his head, and sank onto the bed. “Gone.” His hand went to his pocket. “Damn him, he took the car.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dean had a flash of memory, an image…an echo of a dream. “He’s gone to face it…alone.”
John was on his feet. “We have to go after him.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, we do. But first, we have to get through the door.” He looked at the door, picking out the sense of Sam’s hands tracing a symbol. “He’s sealed us in…and everything else out.”
John ran a hand over the door, feeling for what Dean obviously saw. “I don’t sense it.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah…Sammy’s been holding back on us, Dad. He’s sealed us in pretty good.” He sighed. There was more…something…but when he chased it all he found was the wall between him and his brother. Sam.
Sam.
Sam clenched his jaw, pushed on the accelerator and ignored the tiny touch of his brother’s thought, locking it out. The speedometer was topped out, the Impala shook around him. It smelled like Dean…and blood. Sam shook his head and blocked it out.
I don’t need you to protect me, Sammy.
Sam pushed harder at the wall. Yes, Dean. You do. You just don’t know how much.
“California.” Dean said suddenly, sitting up in the passenger seat of the car they stole to follow Sam. His eyes are dry as he rubs them and looks aside at his father.
“What?”
Dean cleared his throat. “Sam is headed for California.”
John’s eyes danced across the road in front of them and back at Dean. “I don’t like it.”
“No.” Dean didn’t like it either. He didn’t like any of it, least of all that his brother had essentially cold-cocked them both via this connection and run away because of some misguided desire to protect them…or, rather because it was Sam himself that Sam was trying to protect them from, or because Sam didn’t even realize that.
He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. The wall Sam had thrown up between them made it hard to reach him consciously…but did nothing to keep Dean from reading Sam’s subconscious. In fact, it almost made it…easier. Dean couldn’t explain it, wasn’t comfortable with it. Everything. Dean was starting to get a handle on what that actually meant. “Faster, Dad. Faster.”
Sam sat staring at the building, remembering the flames, the pain…the fury as Dean dragged him out of it two years before. Two years. It was empty. He could tell that without even getting out of the car. The school year wasn’t quite over, but the whole block of student housing seemed empty. There was movement at the bedroom window…a face. Jess.
Sam got out of the car and crossed the street. The air was still, the street quiet. Not like when he had last been here. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Sam climbed the stairs slowly, reaching for the door. It came open easily, letting him into a living room devoid of furniture. Scattered papers on the floor attested to life that had once occupied the room, abandoned. If he closed his eyes he could see Dean there, making eyes at Jess, smirking, dragging Sam back into the dark.
With a deep breath he moved into the kitchen. It too was empty, but he could almost smell the cookies Jess had left for him. He closed his eyes, following the same trail he had that night…into the bedroom…the sound of the shower soothing.
A dirty mattress lay on the floor, a broken and lumpy remnant of someone’s college life. Sam sank onto it. He’d driven without stopping. Sleep pulled at him. He fell back, his eyes moving to the ceiling where he’d last seen Jess. The ceiling was dark, empty. He closed his eyes. “Jess,” he whispered as he let sleep pull him down. “I’m here.”
John pulled off the road when his eyes burned and his stomach growled. “Wake up.” He touched Dean’s arm. “Wipe down the car. We need to get a new one.”
Dean stretched, eyeing the bright neon lights around them. “Vegas?”
John smiled. “What place better to lose a stolen car and find a new one?”
Dean nodded. “Something fast.”
“I’ll look around.”
Dean pulled their things out of the trunk of the stolen Toyota and dug a rag out his bag. At one time it had been a t-shirt. Sam’s t-shirt. Sam. No. Dean forced himself to blank out his mind and concentrate on his task. Wipe the car clean. Inside and out.
Two hours and a couple of lousy burgers later, Dean steered a beat up Mark IV onto the 95 north while his father dozed next to him. Sam was already in California, and they were going to run into interference soon. Dean didn’t think about how or why he knew that, just adjusted the gun under his right thigh and pressed harder on the accelerator.
Sam opened his eyes sleepily, not sure if he was even awake, or just dreaming. Jess smiled at him…her body laying in a mirror image of his own, her hair spread out on the mattress behind her. “Sam.”
He took a slow breath and felt the tears building. “I’m here, Jess.” He blinked, half expecting her to disappear. “Am I dreaming?”
She shook her head. “No Sam. Not dreaming.”
No, he was going crazy. He should never have come here, should never have left Dean and their father. “What then?”
“Its coming for you.”
“You said that before.” Something nagged him, a feeling…
“You need to be ready.”
He looked into her eyes, looking for reassurance. “I miss you so much, Jess.”
“I know.” Her hand was on his cheek, hot, solid…He closed his eyes and savored the touch. “I’ve watched and waited for you. I was here last year when you came…but you didn’t see me.”
Memories of last year surfaced. He’d walked past this place then…that night…after the fight with his father. He hadn’t stopped. Couldn’t bear to…”He hurt you.”
Sam flinched. “Garrett,” he murmured.
“No Sam.” He opened his eyes. She seemed to have tears in her eyes. “Not him. Your father. He always hurts you.”
Sam felt a stab in his stomach. “No, Jess…its…he doesn’t mean to. Its comp—“
“Complicated? I saw Sam. I saw it all.” Her hand moved over his face, tender but still hot. “Every time the subject came up…I saw.” She stroked over his eyes and he felt that old familiar pain wash over him.
“He’s changed.” Sam breathed it. He rolled onto his back, his eyes going to the ceiling. Her hand slipped from his face down to his chest. In his mind he saw his father like he’d been in Kansas…proud, loving.
“And you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We’ve all changed Jess.”
“No Sam. Not all of you.”
She rolled onto her back too, her hand sliding down to entwine in his. Sam knew what she meant, but wasn’t ready yet. He sighed. “He still controls you.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” It came out cold, hard and he hated himself for it. “No one controls me Jess, least of all Dean.”
He didn’t see her smile, dark and dangerous. “No? You left me on your own then?”
Sam’s breath caught in his chest. “God, Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I never…I loved you.”
“But you love him more.”
“No.” He sat up and pulled his hand free. “Its not…its…” How could he begin to define it?
“Complicated?” Her hand was on his back now. Her fingers traced his spine.
“I’d be dead now if it weren’t for him.”
“We’d be together.” She said it softly, and he twitched.
“He’s given me everything.”
“No Sam. You’ve done that…you’ve given him everything…you always have…anything for him…your time, your dreams, me…your life…your mind…your…body.” Her hand slid around him, slipping between his legs.
“Jess…no…stop…”
He felt himself falling, back to the dirty mattress. Her hand stroked him and he tried to jerk away. “He gave you his body…his skin…” She leaned over him, her lips hovering near his. “He let you mark him…but that mark…” her hand closed over the brand on his thigh. “It didn’t mark him as yours Sam…it was him…taking control…branding over Garrett’s claim with him own.”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “No. It was my idea.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice was deeper, husky and Sam started as she kissed him, gasping as it burned, her tongue seeking out his. “Maybe I just let you think that.”
Sam’s eyes flew open. Instead of Jessica, Dean’s face smirked down at him, his eyes dark with hatred. “Dean?” Dean.
Dean cussed as he wrenched the car around a curve, narrowly missing the trap set up for them. It was the third one in an hour. They were near Turlock, California. The truck stop had been a nightmare, dodging black eyed lackeys and fighting their way back to the car. He’d plowed down a pregnant woman to get way and tried to tell himself she was already dead before she’d stepped in front of them.
“Careful, there’s more.” John said, pumping the shotgun as he prepared to lean out the window.
“See them. Hold on.”
Dean spun them around in a parking lot and sped them back out onto the road, leaving the two cars behind as he literally stood on the gas. “This is ridiculous.”
“We need to find a way to hide ourselves.”
Dean shook his head. “Can’t hide and move. We have to reach Sam.”
“Maybe we can.”
Dean looked aside at his father. “You gotta plan?”
“Keep driving.” John reached into the backseat for his journal. “Find us some sacred ground, a cemetery or church. I might have a trick or two that will work.”
Dean nodded and concentrated on the task of getting them to safety without killing anyone else. Dean.
He stiffened. Sammy? It had been the first touch in more than 30 hours. He was scared. “Fuck.” Dean spotted the Catholic Church and screeched to a halt, turning the car into its parking lot and pulling as close to the church building as he could get. He closed his eyes and reached out, but Sam was gone again, back behind the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slammed the steering wheel and got out of the car, leaving his father to do whatever magic he had in mind, while he filled flasks with holy water inside.
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