A Walking Encyclopedia of Weirdness

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 02:53:03 GMT

The motel room is dark and quiet, save for the soft sound of breathing.

Sam had claimed exhaustion and gone to bed early. Dean had kept an eye on him until Sam had been still for half an hour before lying down on the other bed himself.

Now, an hour later, Dean's asleep on his side of the room.

Sam's only pretending to be.

He follows her into the living room and away from Dean, still pleading with her to reconsider. The gun in his hand drags at his arm with a cold weight.

"Madison, no -- we can find a way, all right? There's this place, Dean and I both know it-- I can take you there, we can --"

"So I can be locked up like a monster in a zoo for the rest of my life?" She's crying openly; he can still feel the touch of her fingers as she reaches for his wrist. "I don't want to live like this, Sam. I won't."

His fingers tighten convulsively around the gun as she lifts his hand, bringing the weapon up between them, raising it until the barrel is pointed at her heart.

"Madison--"

She reaches up and puts her free hand over his mouth, stopping the frantic flow of words.

"Please, Sam. Help me. Don't make me have to do this alone."

He searches her face for long seconds before he nods.

"Close your eyes, Madison," Sam whispers. "I'm here. It's okay."

The sound of the gunshot echoes through the apartment.

In the darkness, Sam opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

Five minutes later, he slips silently out the door.

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 15:34:04 GMT

They'd gotten a slow start this morning -- or rather, Sam had -- so after the usual bitching and moaning, Dean had gone out to get them both coffee and something to eat.

He won't have much time before his brother comes back. Hopefully he won't need it.

Sam hunts around in his duffel bag and comes up with a white votive candle in a small glass holder, a silver rosary with jet beads, and a lighter. He lights the candle and sets it down on the cheap wooden table by the TV, then arranges the rosary in front of it.

It's been a long while since he's felt the need for rituals and trappings to accompany his own personal acts of prayer, but he hasn't forgotten how to use them.

When Pastor Jim Murphy turns away from the altar, he finds that he's not alone in the church.

"Sam? Is everything okay? Where's Dean?"

The six-year-old boy nods, then shrugs and points over his shoulder toward the church's vestibule.

"Looking at pictures of cars. He said it was okay if I came in here as long as I didn't bother you."

"You're not bothering me, son." Pastor Jim smiles at him. "It's all right."

"Okay." A beat. "What were you doing?"

"Praying."

Awkwardly, Sam lowers himself to the ground, kneeling before the makeshift altar. He clears his throat.

"Why?"

"It's how I talk to God." Pastor Jim comes over and takes a seat in the pew beside Sam. "I like to keep in touch."

"Does he talk back?"

"Sometimes. Maybe not the same way that you'd talk to Dean, or your dad would talk to you, but when He answers, you can always tell."

Sam thinks that over for a few seconds, frowning in concentration.

"Can I pray too?"

"Anyone can," Jim promises him. "He'll hear you. He's always listening. All you need to do is believe."

"Our Father, who art in heaven..."

But just like before, the words stick in his throat. Sam closes his eyes in despair.

When the black, smoky cloud oozes through the air vent behind him and into the motel room, he doesn't notice.

Not in time to do anything about it, anyway.

Wed, 11 Mar 2009 03:28:34 GMT

Talk about everything going wrong.

How could I be so fucking stupid?

Sam's slumped on a stool in the lab, staring glumly at the floor and ignoring the argument going on around him. The wound in his chest stings a little bit, but no worse than any other scratch or cut he's ever had. He can't feel the virus yet, but he knows it's in there.

Poisoning him.

It's not like I didn't know that anyone in the whole damn town could be infected -- but Pam was so scared, she hadn't shown any signs, I thought she was safe, so I let her get behind me...

Let my guard down for one fucking minute, and now I'm gonna die here.

A familiar metallic jingle gets his attention, and Sam looks up in shock as Dean tosses Mark the keys to the Impala.

"Get the hell outta here. Take my car. You two go with him."

"Dean, no--"

"You're not gonna get rid of me that easy, Sammy."

The others are already moving for the door. Dr. Lee hangs back for a second as Duane and Mark file out ahead of her.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for everything, Marshals."

Sun, 11 Jan 2009 04:22:40 GMT

The road's dark - pretty close to pitch-black, come to that.

Still, as Sam cuts a sideways look at Dean, it's clear that the blackness outside is nothing compared to his brother's mood.

Not that his own is much better.

Dad, how could you--

"She was lying. Had to be."

He tries to sound as though he believes it.

"Demons lie all the time, right?"

Sun, 28 Sep 2008 00:17:40 GMT

Hi everyone!

As Season 4 has now started airing here in America, it's been a while since the last group email, there are more SPN-verse characters around these days, and we don't have an SPN-at-Milliways community, Lynne and I wanted to put up a note so we could all have a place to touch base.

Part One: Who's Who.
To the best of our knowledge, here's who we've got, who's playing whom, and where everyone is in canon. Keep in mind that this list only includes "active" characters -- i.e., those on the already approved and on the cast list. In approximate order of appearance in bar, then:

Dean Winchester (hopeitsworthit): played by Lynne (varadia. Email: varadia@gmail.com, AIM: setsthingsright. Currently set at 2.05, "Simon Said."

Sam Winchester (gavemea_45): played by Aspen (silveraspen). Email: silveraspen@gmail.com, AIM: aspenx3. Currently set at 2.05, "Simon Said."

John Winchester (hunter_legend): played by Danii (daniidebrabant). Email: danii.debrabant@gmail.com, AIM: ashurbadaktu. Currently set somewhere in Season 2. (Poor John.)

Jessica Moore (nolongerhunted): played by Mandi (lightningsqueen). Email -- okay, I know I had it somewhere, help?; AIM: DmnsAngl. Post-pilot, currently continuing to build a new ~~life~~ existence at Milliways.

Missouri Mosely (iwenttomissouri): played by Viv (vivien529). Email: vivien529@aol.com, AIM: vivien529. Currently set somewhere in Season 2.

Andy Gallagher (obiwanedyou): played by Cati (djcati). Email: [er, help?], AIM: djcati13. Currently set... end of Season 1 or early Season 2? I think? Prior to "Simon Said," anyway, the last I saw?

Jo Harvelle (tobeclosetohim): played by Secret/Anonymous (contact post link). Email: tobeclosetohim@gmail.com, AIM: tobeclosetohim. Currently set in Season 2, after 2.02, "Everybody Loves a Clown," but I don't know when.

Ellen Harvelle (roadhouse_ellen): previously played by Phoenix (phoenixchilde), currently up for adoption. Contact Phoenix for more information.

Bobby Singer (salver): played by Sweeney (agonistes). Email: agonistes@gmail.com, AIM: Sweeney Agonistes. Currently set immediately prior to "Simon Said."

Ava Wilson (hadyougoing): played by Merc (mercuriazs). Email: [er, help?], AIM: MerkyDee. Currently set after her last appearance in canon at the end of Season 2, and busily ~~causing trouble~~ building a new existence at Milliways.

Bela Talbot (not_lugosi): played by Viv (vivien529). Email: vivien529, AIM: vivien529. Currently set in 2005, prior to meeting the Winchesters/her first canon appearance.

Ruby (cannotforget): played by Jen (dynastessa, contact post here). Email: jedi.knight.kenobi@gmail.com, AIM: teh frodo. Our newest character, I think! Set after escaping hell and somewhere in Season 2, based on this post.

There are two more characters that should be mentioned here, and those are Mary Winchester and Castiel, both of which are currently on reserve. Mary is on reserve due to the impact her appearance in the bar would have on all three Winchester men, and Castiel is on reserve for the time being until we have a chance to see what direction Season 4 is taking with him (and how it'll affect Dean, primarily).

Part Two: Wheres and Whens
As is evident from the above, people have characters in from a variety of different places and times. This is great, especially as what's important is that people have fun with the characters they've chosen! Especially as there are a lot of us, in I don't even know how many timezones, and we've all got busy lives.

The boys are going to stick together in terms of timeframe, obviously, as they do in canon. If anyone wants to tag along with that currently snail-like pace, great, but it's totally up to you! "Driver picks the music," and all that. :) (Lynne and I are also going to try to keep notes up in the boys' profiles with a link to a post that lets everyone know where they are in terms of canon at any given point. That might be useful -- what do y'all think? Any interest/opinion?)

As for threading out actual episodes -- the way Lynne and I have been approaching it is that we generally do "extra scenes" or "reaction OOMs" where we feel like it or where we think it's important to show something in particular for one or both of the boys, and otherwise just work it all into the context of stuff in bar. It's a lot of fun that way, and a lot easier than trying to write through and post OOMs for every single episode, so that's pretty much how we're planning to carry on.

(Mind you, we're always up for having extra/random/"OMGWTFBBQ" encounters in bar or whatever-- just let us know! As an example, as we're about to hop the boys forward through/past "Simon Said" -- imagine what it'd be like to have Dean and Sam walk into Milliways to get a beer sometime after the events of that episode and find Andy already there....)

Part Three: Canon Sweet Canon
Ah, canon. Gotta love it! Or well, at least Lynne and I do, so we're planning on keeping the boys strictly to canon events as we've seen them go down, rather than take anything AU. Of course, that's not stopping anyone ELSE from having AU fun, and it's for certain sure that Milliways allows for multiple versions of canon worlds/universes! Just know that if, say, Madison (from 2.17, "Heart") were to show up and head for the bar to deal with her werewolf-hood instead of what happens to her in canon, that's fine (and would be awesome) -- and although Sam would be glad for her when he met her, it wouldn't substantially change HIS experience in canon or what happened (and what he did) there, see what I'm saying? :)

That's all we've got at the moment. Got comments, questions, things to discuss -- drop them here or grab someone directly. :) See you all in the bar!

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 04:43:11 GMT

There's not much in Slater, Missouri. Mostly what the town's got going for it is a bunch of cheap motels due to its location at the intersection of three state highways, twenty miles from the interstate. It's the sort of thing that makes Slater a decent place to pull off the road for a night.

Sam's taking advantage of that fact right now. He's sprawled out on one of the beds in their room, sound asleep.

It's been a long day.

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 00:17:24 GMT

Dean had filled him in on running into Sallie in the bar. From what he'd said, it sounds like she's gonna get through it, and Sam's glad.

They've lost too many people already. He doesn't want to think about what it would have been like to lose Sallie.

Now that he knows things are okay, though, there's something else he needs to do.

"This is stupid."

"You said that already, Dean."

"Because it still is."

"Listen, you don't have to come--"

"And I'm supposed to do what instead, hang around the roadhouse or the bar waiting for you to show up? No thanks."

Dean might have driven them there, but he'd flatly refused to have anything else to do with this. No one's around when Sam kneels down and uses a pocketknife to dig a hole in the ground in front of the granite slab.

The gravestone's a simple one. So's the inscription.

MARY
WINCHESTER
1954 - 1983
In Loving Memory

Sunlight glints from metal as Sam pulls a set of dogtags from his shirt pocket. He turns them over in his hand, rubbing his thumb over John's name.

"I think, um--"

He clears his throat.

"--I think Dad would have wanted you to have these."

He sets them in the hole and pushes the clumps of dirt and grass back in place, then looks up at the gravestone.

"I love you, Mom."

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 03:47:23 GMT

Angela Mason's dead -- again -- and buried. Again. Hopefully this time she'll stay there.

The pain in his hand is a constant throbbing ache, but Sam ignores it. He's busy sneaking sideways looks at Dean, trying to get a sense of things. So far, it's hard to say, but the scowl on Dean's face as he glares at the road in front of them doesn't bode well.

It's utterly silent in the Impala right now. There isn't even any music.

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 03:32:46 GMT

[After this.]

He watches in silence as Andrew makes his unsteady way up the stairs. Once the other guy is out of sight, Sam turns away and goes straight to the bar.

The tequila he orders is delivered with an addition of two packages. Sam frowns over the note that came with them for a few seconds before pushing everything to one side and reaching for his drink.

He picks it up-- and then slowly sets it down again, untasted. Sam leans his elbows on the wood and buries his head in his hands.

I trusted him!

He'd said as much to Dean months ago, when they first started looking for a way back to Milliways. Looking for information; looking for help.

If it were only his own situation, it wouldn't even matter that much. He'll deal. What makes it worse is that he'd confided in Andrew about other things, too.

How could I have been so fucking blind?!

There'd been plenty of signs, now that he thinks about it.

"Oh, I get that... you don't even know. Pretending..."

"You have no idea how well I know all about that.

He'd never pushed. No, he'd always ignored it, letting it all pass. Giving Andrew -- giving his friend -- the time he seemed to need.

His friend.

I thought he was my friend. I thought we were on the same side. Was I wrong about all of it, this whole time?

It's not like he can ask anyone. He's sure not gonna talk to any of Andrew's friends about it until he figures this thing out, not even Mac.

And there's no way he can talk to Dean about this, either, not yet. Not until things are better. Until that happens, there's no way he's gonna add anything at all to what his brother's dealing with.

Once he got through tearing a strip off me for being stupid, Dad would have known what to do. Me, I just keep screwing up-- I can't figure out how to get through to Dean, I can't get anything right--

But there's no one else, is there?

With a sigh, Sam gathers up his stuff and heads for the door.

Dad, wherever you are... I miss you.

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 03:38:46 GMT

[After this.]

When he comes back, he doesn't head straight out to see how Dean's doing.

There's always the chance his brother might notice that Sam's quieter than he was before he left, and Sam doesn't feel like explaining the reason.

Not yet.

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 06:10:03 GMT

Hao--

Talked to Jess tonight. She said you were trying to help her and that you were looking for me.

I'm around the bar, or you can leave a return note and I'll meet you.

Let's talk soon.

--Sam Winchester.

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 03:20:39 GMT

Dean's working on the Impala with singleminded focus; in the meantime, Sam's working on whatever he can find.

(It's a hell of a lot better than thinking about all the things that are wrong which he can't do anything about.)

Right now, he's still trying to crack their dad's cell phone.

When he does, however, he finds something unexpected.

"John, it's Ellen. Again."

Sam stares at the phone for a long while before he goes outside to find Dean.

"...It's what I came out here to tell you, okay?" Sam holds the cell phone out. "It's Dad's. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code."

Dean gives him a look, but takes the phone and listens to the message. As he does, his expression changes, and Sam nods.

"That message is four months old."

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?"

Sam nods again. "Yeah."

"Okay, so who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No, but--" He holds up a scrap of paper. "I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address."

Dean snaps the phone shut and hands it back to Sam.

"Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

Sat, 22 Dec 2007 04:34:34 GMT

He's frowning as he comes back from the cafeteria, coffee in hand. It's not that he wants to fight with Dad, it's just-- it's weird, is all.

I don't care what he says, something's wrong. Dad's never been that tired.

It's pretty quiet on the ward. As Sam walks back up the hall, he glances back and forth, staying aware of his surroundings as he's been trained from childhood to do, even when there's nothing to see but an empty hospital room.

Except that it's not empty.

Inside, John Winchester is lying sprawled motionless on the floor.

"...Dad?"

The cup of coffee slips forgotten from his hand and goes crashing to the floor as Sam runs to his father's side.

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 04:25:56 GMT

He's standing by the edge of Dean's bed, staring down at the floor. Sam's not going anywhere-- even if there were a chance of finding help at Milliways, he's not going to leave Dean alone and undefended. He's not sure what it'll look like when the reaper comes for him, but he's got no intention of just letting it happen.

There's got to be something he can do. That someone can do. He can't just give up. He won't.

Even as he thinks it, Dean gasps in a sharp breath, choking on the tube in his throat as he jerks awake.

Sam's head snaps up.

"Dean?"

Without waiting for an answer, he yells toward the hallway,

"Help! I need help!"

The response from the medical staff is gratifyingly quick.

The doctor's the last one to leave the room, surprise and confusion still written on his face at being unable to explain what had happened. Sam doesn't care.

His brother's alive. That's all that matters.

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 05:04:14 GMT

He'd gone down the hall to see what he could find out, and what he'd found had been a team of doctors and nurses trying to resuscitate Dean.

No--

And there wasn't a damn thing Sam could do but stand at the door watching his brother die right in front of him.

But then something had happened

...get back...

and Dean's heart had started beating again.

This time.

It'd been too close. Way too close.

He'd gone back to Milliways on a fast pass just to check, but there'd been no sign of Dean. It hadn't been a real surprise.

Sam's pretty sure he knows where Dean is right now.

It's quiet in the hospital room when he gets back from the gift shop. Sam's clutching a brown paper bag, and stands there for a second looking down at his brother.

Sat, 17 Nov 2007 03:50:34 GMT

He doesn't know how long he can stand it. Nor does he know how long he's been sitting by the hospital bed, looking at his brother lying so silent and still, surrounded by tubes and beeping machines, waiting for--

"Dean?" It's out before he realizes he's going to say anything. Sam leans forward, holding his breath as he strains to hear any sound.

There's no answer, and he swallows hard, fighting back a tightness in his throat.

"Come on, man. Don't do this. You -- you gotta wake up, Dean."

"You don't want Dad to get out of bed first, do you? I mean, you'll never hear the end of it--"

"Dean, please."

"Can you even hear me?"

There's no answer to any of it, and Sam drops his head into his hands, trying to think. It's then that another thought hits him, and Sam sits straight up, eyes going wide.

What if he's not even here? What if-- what if he's--

Two seconds later, he's sprinting for the door.

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 21:54:15 GMT

In the immediate aftermath of the wreck, the hush is complete. The soft drip of fluid leaking from the Impala's ruined engine is punctuated by the occasional creak of overstrained metal or a 'tink' as a shard of glass falls from a shattered window, but otherwise, everything is quiet.

Sam is pinned between the steering wheel and the driver's seat, with John unconscious and slumped sideways in the seat next to him. Dean lies motionless in the back, sprawled limply where he was flung by the force of the impact.

The only one of them who's moving is the truck driver. The demonic black of his gaze is as flat and empty as a shark's as he steps down from the truck and starts toward the wreckage of the Impala, bootheels thudding solidly against the pavement.

I see a bad moon rising

At the sound, Sam opens his eyes.

I see trouble on the way

It's only a few seconds before it reaches them. Only a few seconds, but it's enough.

"Get back, or I'll kill you, I swear to God."

As the demon tears the door from the car, it finds Sam braced against the seat and waiting for it, with the Colt already raised and pointed. The thing behind the truck driver's face looks down at him with a sneer.

"You won't," it snarls. "You're saving that bullet for someone else."

"Killing this demon comes first. Before me, before everything."

Click. The look in his eyes is as cold and hard as the demon's as Sam cocks the gun and levels it at the driver's heart.

"No, sir. Not before everything."

"You wanna bet?"

You think I've got anything else left to lose?

His finger begins to tighten on the trigger.

With a howl, the demon vomits itself upward from the truck driver's throat into a cloud of seething black smoke and dissipates into nothingness.

Sam barely notices as the man falls to his knees. With a shaking hand, he uncocks the hammer and lowers the Colt, hiding it under the tail of his shirt, then drops his head back against the seat.

"Dad?"

There's no answer. He swallows and tries again, this time louder.

"Dad?" A beat. "Dean?"

Silence.

"DEAN!"

"You--" It's the truck driver, babbling at him, and Sam lifts his head again to look up at the other man. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm gonna go get help--"

"My brother," he croaks, interrupting. "My dad. I can't see-- are they okay?"

The other man's not listening. "Phone doesn't work, no signal -- I have to go, I'm gonna go, find help --"

He's already running up the road by the time Sam manages to turn around.

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 05:32:56 GMT

Dean's off somewhere -- downstairs, Sam figures.

He himself isn't feeling social tonight, and besides it's a little easier to keep looking into possible solutions for Jess's situation when Dean isn't around.

Not that he hasn't told him, or anything like that. It's just... awkward.

Yeah.

Thu, 27 Sep 2007 02:57:09 GMT

Vampires. Vampires are real. Man, Andrew is never gonna let us hear the end of this, not to mention that Abby girl and her friend, what's his name, Hannibal.

Dean's gone out on an errand, but that doesn't change the fact that the motel room is small and a little cramped, especially at the moment. As he paces back and forth, Sam keeps darting sideways looks at the table where John Winchester is sitting and working.

Of course, you knew all about them, didn't you, Dad? And even if you thought they were extinct, you still didn't bother telling either me or Dean that they'd existed at all. Just like you didn't mention Daniel Elkins, or the Colt.

The Colt. A gun out of legend, said to have been made in 1835 by Samuel Colt himself while Halley's Comet burned through the sky overhead. A special gun, with thirteen special bullets, made for a mysterious hunter on horseback and used only a handful of times before the man had disappeared and the gun was lost along with him-- until it had turned up in Elkins's possession, and now that of the vampires that had murdered him.

A gun that supposedly can kill anything.

Even a demon.

Would you have even called us if Dean and I hadn't run into you outside of Elkins's place? Would you have told us if you and I hadn't gotten in that fight earlier? Jesus, Dad -- this could finally be it, after all these years! Were you just gonna keep it a secret? What were you thinking?

Sat, 28 Apr 2007 03:15:00 GMT

Sneaking into somewhere they aren't supposed to be has always been Dean's favorite part of the job. Sam, for all he'll protest, gets a kick out of it, too.

This time, with that crazy Meg girl chanting in front of an altar, maybe it's a little less exciting than other times.

Then, of course, Meg stops speaking ancient Phoenician, or whatever, and says "Guys. Hiding's a little bit childish, don't you think?"

Sam looks at Dean, and Dean looks back.

"Well. That didn't work out like I planned."

Meg, smirking, turns to face them. She's still hot but creepy, and the creepy's really winning.

"Why don't you come out?"

Again there's a quick brotherly exchange of glances, most of them saying 'dude, I told you this wasn't gonna work' and 'shut up, now what do we do'. Then they slip out of their hiding spot, Dean a little in front.

* * * * *

Dean's trying to guard him and a part of him notices it, but now's not the time to show anything but a united front. They're in too much trouble for that.

"Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship," Meg informs him sweetly, and he gives her a sardonic look in return.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

As if. But how the hell did she know we were coming?

Dean breaks in, drawing Meg's attention back to himself, away from Sam.

"So, where's your little Daeva friend?"

Meg grins. "Oh, around." There's a second's pause. "You know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good."

Dean smirks back. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun ain't for the demon."

All the while, Sam's thinking quickly, trying to figure it out.

She had to know. All this time, she had to. But--

"Who is it, Meg?" He waits for her to look back at him-- away from Dean, that's good, that's better than good-- and meets her gaze flatly when she does. "Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?"

Shadows writhe and form along the wall, talons extending, and he feels his face clawed open as a blow sends him sprawling, while another knocks Dean into a pile of crates.

"You," Meg says, and smiles.

Shit.

Wed, 25 Apr 2007 20:30:28 GMT

Once back in Chicago, it quickly becomes apparent that Sam is too restless to stay in the hotel room. Dean takes over the process of running the background check on one "Meg Masters" of Andover, while Sam sets off to stake out Meg's apartment, instead.

(By unspoken agreement, they've decided to wait on figuring out what to do about Bernard's note until the immediate situation is dealt with.)

Unfortunately, stakeouts are nearly as boring as staring at the walls of a motel room. By the time Dean calls with an update, Sam's about ready to start pacing in circles around the block.

"Hey. Did you find anything?"

He can almost see Dean shaking his head. "Sorry, man, she checks out. Phone book, high school photo, the whole deal."

Sam frowns at the phone. "Man, I would have sworn..." He sighs. "What about the symbol? Anything there?"

"Yeah, that I had some luck with," Dean says. "Uh-- turns out it’s Zoroastrian. Real old school, like two thousand years before Christ old. It’s a sigil for somethin' called a Daeva."

"What the hell's a Daeva?"

"Translates to 'demon of darkness.' Nasty vicious bastards, kinda like demonic pit bulls."

Sam's quiet for a second, thinking. "Good to know. How’d you figure that out?"

"Called Dad's friend, Caleb--"

Just then the door to the apartment building opens, and Meg steps out. Sam breaks in fast. "Gotta go, Dean, she's on the move."

"Look, Sammy--"

He doesn't wait to hear the rest. Sam hangs up the phone and follows Meg.

* * * * *

The warehouse that Meg's disappeared into looks to be abandoned. There's nothing at all on the ground floor, so Sam heads up the stairs. They lead to a locked door, but he can hear the mutter of voices beyond. He looks around for another way in, and spots a broken elevator gate. Sam climbs cautiously up and looks through the bars at the top.

As it turns out, this gives him an excellent view of the room-- and of the black altar that Meg is standing before. He can see candles, a number of ancient items, and what looks to be a human heart-- and then, as Meg moves to one side, he gets a clear view of the Zoroastrian symbol.

Sam stares. What the hell?

As he watches, Meg picks up a silver bowl filled with blood, swirls her finger in it, and chants an invocation, then begins to speak into the bowl.

"I don't think you should come." She bends her head, listening. "Because of the brothers-- they're in town... yes, sir."

Silence, for a second.

"Yes. Yes, I will." Meg smiles. "I'll be here, waiting for you."

By the time Sam gets back to the hotel room, he's about ready to explode. He bursts through the door, looking for Dean.

"Dude, I gotta--"

Sun, 22 Apr 2007 06:42:52 GMT

The cheap Iowa motel's put a lot of effort into its theme. There's corn-printed wallpaper, dried corn tassels in grass art on the walls, corn patterns on the pillowcases and sheets.

Not that Sam notices any of it, as the door bangs open and he stalks into the room.

Mon, 02 Apr 2007 02:59:06 GMT

Eventually, he regains consciousness. Sam stifles his groan with an effort, one hand going up to gingerly touch the lump on the back of his head as he looks around.

It's a cage. He's in a cage. Sam scrambles to his knees, then to his feet, half-crouching because there's not room enough to stand. He wraps his hands around the bars, rattling them. Steel rebar and iron strips, he finds-- interwoven back and forth in a criss-cross pattern and evidently strong enough to hold a bear.

"There's no way this can be good," Sam mutters, and sets about trying to kick the door off its hinges.

Some minutes later he drops back to the ground in frustration, and it's then he hears the low moan from across the way. Sam moves to the other side of his cage, looking over at the stirring form of an older man in a cage like his own.

"Hey-- you're Jenkins, aren't you? You okay?"

"Yes, I am-- and what kind of idiot question is that? Does it look like I'm doin' okay?" Jenkins snaps.

Sam winces. "Okay, good point. Where are we?"

Jenkins shakes his head. "Country, I think. Smells like country, anyway. How'd you know my name?"

"We were looking for you--" Jenkins cuts Sam off there with a snort.

"No offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue you've got going."

Sam shakes his head and says, "It'll be okay. My brother Dean's out there right now, looking for us--"

"Boy, we're in the middle of nowhere. No one's gonna find--"

"Yes, he will," Sam interrupts. "Dean'll find us."

He holds stubbornly to that thought through the next several hours.

Dean will find us.

Their captors come and go, leaving food for them. Sam ignores it, and busies himself in trying to pull some sort of weapon or at least a piece of metal from the only thing he can reach through the bars.

He'll find us.

After another hour or so, the door to the other cage opens. Jenkins scrambles out instantly, calling back,

"I'll send help for you, boy."

Sam stretches an arm through the bars, trying to catch at his sleeve. "No, wait-- Jenkins, it's too easy, it's got to be a trap--"

The other man doesn't listen, but pushes the door open and leaves. Sam goes back to trying to pick the lock to his own cage with a wire from the small metal coil that he's finally managed to tear down.

It's not long before he hears the agonized screaming, and knows he was right.

No. No. Dean will find me.

"He'll find me," Sam mutters to himself, prying desperately at the lock. "He'll find me. I know he will."

He's just no longer sure it'll be in time.

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 04:56:18 GMT

He'd been right.

Dean had found him. Both of them, actually, as by the time his brother turned up the other cage had a new occupant-- a woman named Kathleen. A cop, Sam knows now.

A cop whose own brother had been killed years ago by the crazy twisted 'hunting' family that would have killed them all too, had they not managed to win the struggle. In the end, Sam had dumped one of the men in his cage and locked it, then left Kathleen holding the rifle trained on the other while he went back to the house for Dean, who was busy locking the last member of the family in a closet.

He almost hadn't. There'd been something about her eyes as she told him to go ahead, and he had hesitated. But in the end, he'd left her there.

He and Dean had been coming down the steps of the house when they heard the gunshot.

* * * * *

"He was shot trying to escape," Kathleen lies, and Sam knows better, but he doesn't say anything at all. She tells them to get out of there, before the state police and the FBI show up, and Sam just looks at her and still doesn't say anything, not even when Dean tries to angle for a ride. Kathleen isn't buying it. Start walking, she tells them, and Sam finally speaks, already turning to go.

"Sounds great to me. Thanks."

Dean nods, then hesitates before saying awkwardly, "Listen, uh-- I'm sorry about your brother."

"It was really hard not knowing what happened to him," Kathleen says, and at the tone of her voice Sam turns back. "I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth-- but it isn't."

Sam knows why it's not. He's sure of it. What's worse, he still understands why she did it.

He doesn't want to think about what he'd have done if it had been Dean.

She draws a shaky breath and adds, "Anyway, you should go."

Once again, Sam doesn't say anything, just nods and leads the way as he and Dean start walking back up the road towards town.

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 19:02:11 GMT

It's not Vegas, where they've ended up-- just another dingy motel by the highway in some town that's barely more a wide spot in the road.

Sam barely notices. He doesn't care, anyway.

He'd spent most of the day in the car studying their father's journal-- looking to avoid talking about it all with Dean as much as he was looking for answers.

Answers that he didn't find. Answers he has to find.

He knows Dean's worried about him; he keeps seeing his brother looking at him, little sideways glances. Would it have made a difference in the end if Max had an older brother? Sam doesn't know, but he can't help wondering.

But he still doesn't want to talk about it, so Sam mutters something about being tired and lies down, closing his eyes and pretending to fall asleep quickly.

A few hours later, he's asleep in truth-- and dreaming.

"Sam. Please...Sam... help me--"

"Jess? Jess!"

His eyes are open but he can't move, can't do anything but stare up at the ceiling and the woman pinned there.

"Sam... why? Why?"

He struggles to sit up, to reach her, screaming over and over as she bursts into flame. "No! Jess, no! No!"

The moan that comes from his sleeping form is deep and wracked with pain.