|Sam Winchester (bitch____) wrote,|
@ 2008-05-26 17:45:00
|Entry tags:||sam winchester|
Part 1 ( my one and only mini fanfic series )
[ This fic has three parts to it. This is part one. The one I'm posting next will be part two, and the last fic I post will be the final installment. It's a somewhat cheesy idea, but I don't care. Yes, the show is Supernatural. It's about demons and darkness and mayhem. But two of my favorite episodes were Faith and Houses of the Holy. I like it when they tap into the religious aspect of it too. It's a nice balance. Maybe it's 'cause I'm a Christian. Most probably find this stupid or dumb, so you can go ahead and just stop reading now. This part only involves Sam, canon-character wise. So also if you're easily bored with Sam's whining, this isn't for you. Just saying ... no need to waste your time reading something you pretty much know you're not going to like. But I'm cool with it, so it's all good. Though incase you're wondering, Dean gets the next piece. Everyone gets a turn. Then, yep! You guessed it. The final fic includes them both. - gasp! - Yes, the Winchester brothers actually in the same scene together. Can you believe it?!
Also, I have not proofread this yet. So beware of typos galore! I'll go back and edit when I have the time, but I didn't expect anyone to ever read these, so yeah. ]
What exactly had drawn him to this place, he wasn't sure. He did make a habit out of saying a little prayer when times were especially rough ( which was pretty much always ), but he'd never felt compelled to carry out that prayer within an actual church, or in this case, cathedral: The Cathedral of St. Mary. But it wasn't like he had anyplace else to go - no real destination in mind. Nothing would bring him peace at the moment. Well, with the exception of one thing: talking to Dean, though that clearly wasn't an option. So why not take a break and step inside? Just because he was damned didn't mean he was willing to completely rule out the possibility of a 'greater good' - or that a higher power existed. Maybe he and Dean had gone about this all wrong. Maybe what they really needed was mercy: the kind that could only be delivered by the hand of God. Maybe that was the type of salvation they should be seeking: not making deals with devils every time a new problem presented itself.
... "Angels are watching over you." Supposedly that's what their mom used to say to them before she put them to bed. She'd probably even said it the night she died. If that were true, where had her angel been, and where was theirs now? Maybe they were just too lost to be saved.
He'd temporarily lost all awareness of what was going on around him ... that is until a strange voice broke the lingering silence. The person he saw standing there was a woman, fairly young in age, who had this constant tiny twinkle in her eyes that didn't seem to fade. "What? I'm sorry. I was-"
"Someplace else?" She finished his sentence for him, knowing full well that's what he was going to say.
A sheepish smile was given. "Yeah." He had no idea how long he'd been standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, just staring off into space with a dazed look in his eyes. Or better yet, how long she'd been there watching him.
A short laugh fell from her lips as she shook her head lightly. "Don't worry. You didn't miss much. I just asked if you needed any help. You looked lost." Lost, in every sense of the word.
"You could say that," he muttered almost automatically. Clearly he hadn't taken the time to think over his response, because once he caught her inquisitive look, he hurried to dismiss the remark. "I'm good, but thanks."
"Are you?" The question didn't come out sounding like a challenge, but that's exactly what it was. Whether he was aware of it or not, she knew the true answer: the one that lie in his heart. His eyes betrayed him, no matter how much he protested. The eyes really were the window to the soul, especially this one's.
Meeting women who suddenly appeared at the same place he was at aroused suspicion. It was a shame that it had to be that way, but Meg, then Ruby. The last couple of times he'd been met by a stranger while on his own, they'd turned out to be demons. But surely it couldn't be true this time; not in a place this sacred. Maybe he also just didn't care a whole lot right now. He shifted awkwardly in his stance once she posed her next question: one that's answer was far too complex for him to even attempt to explain - as if she'd believe him, even if he did tell her the entire truth. Not knowing what else to say or do, he let his shoulders rise and fall in a light shrug. A superb liar he was not. In fact, he'd been told time and time again that he was pretty lousy at it. One of the downfalls of wearing his heart on his sleeve.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Many people come here looking for answers once they're desperate enough." A hand lifted to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, before she gave him a reassuring smile.
She sure knew how to put a person at ease. After a moment's contemplation, he would be the one to ask a question. "Is it that obvious?"
"No, I just know the signs." Though he did look extremely worn down: jaded and weathered because of life's difficult journey. It had certainly taken its toll on this particular individual. It was clear to see that he was troubled.
"Do you work here?" Her reply made it sound like she had some experience with recognizing 'wounded souls.'
"Me? Not really. I just pass through from time to time - do what I can to help those in need." A whole-heartedly honest answer, as vague as it was.
"So this is what you do: go around helping people?" Though he didn't intend for it to, his tone held a hint of skepticism. He instantly regretted not being able to shove his doubts aside for once. She was a sweet girl, and she hadn't given him any reason to question her motives. Besides, he was sure that if he tried to explain what he and Dean did for a living, it'd sound similar - mixed in with a little crazy if the person they were trying to explain it to wanted them to elaborate.
"I know it sounds pretty silly, but yes. I do my best, anyway." She hadn't taken offense; she wasn't easily riled.
Pleased with her answer, he gave an understanding smile. "That's all you can do." He knew from personal experience that sometimes no matter how hard you tried, things didn't end up like they should. ... Nothing like dwelling on the negative, although that's basically all there was right now. Gaze momentarily drifted to a large box resting on one of the front pews. Funny how he hadn't noticed it till just now. "You need a hand with that?" He gestured towards it so she'd know what he was referring to.
Eyes seemed to light up even more at his offer before she enthusiastically replied, "If you don't mind."
"Not at all," he assured her, before already moving to scoop up the box. He was always up for a little heavy lifting, especially when he wanted to get his mind off something. It was more productive than just standing around doing nothing. All that did was make him restless. Once he steadied the box in his arms, he followed her down a long corridor until they reached the spacious room at the other end that was clearly in the process of being decorated for some kind of social function. When she told him he could set the item he'd been carrying down anywhere, he carried it up to the carpeted, elevated stage area at the front, and carefully placed it there. He figured it was as good a place as any, seeing as how they're were already several other boxes lining the stage.
"If you don't mind me asking, what's all this stuff for?" If he was going to monopolize her time, he felt inclined to make conversation. And since she had been the one asking most of the questions prior to now, he figured it was his turn to contribute. It would be rude to make her the one constantly having to come up with something to say. Plus he was curious.
That sugary sweet smile slipped into place once again as she beamed while telling the news. "A couple's getting married here in a few days. This is all for the reception." Love, sweet love. If done right, it made the world a better place. If only everyone could find true happiness in a significant other ... though she believed there were many other ways one could find contentment. After all, there were many different forms of love.
"And they left you to set up the place all by yourself?" Again with the skepticism, only this time a brow quirk accompanied it. While she seemed like the type that would willingly and eagerly agree to do the task, he couldn't picture her moving around tables - at least he didn't see her being able to manage setting them up without some help. "I could give you a hand, if you wanted."
The offer was greatly appreciated ... and exactly what she'd been hoping for. Trying not to let her excitement show too much, she replied. "I would love that."
After that, they got to work, all the while talking about this, that, or the other. At first, everything was pretty basic: tip of the iceberg sort of stuff. It was easier to concentrate on the task at hand that way. Showed how little Sam knew about what was really going on. Truth be told, she wasn't nearly as focused on prettying up the place as she was getting to know him. And while it'd taken a little longer than she'd expected, he began to open up to her. More specifically, he got to talking about the fight he'd had with his brother.
"I'm sure you two can work it out." In fact, she knew they could - though apparently it wouldn't happen without a little outside help. Even still, all it'd take was one gentle nudge to send them in the right direction. "Have you tried talking to him?"
A light scoff fell from his lips. "Yeah, I tried." 'Tried' being the key word. Failed being the end result. "He uh ..." He shook his head, trying to block out the memory of what'd happened. It was definitely not one of their finer moments. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this terrible. No matter what they'd been through in the past, they'd always had each other: until now. And it looked like Dean wasn't interested in amending that. - Or maybe Sam was trying to shake away the embarrassment that came with what he was about to say. "He locked me in a cabin and left me there. Guess he didn't feel like talking."
At least his brother hadn't dismantled his face. From what she'd heard, Dean had quite a temper - especially when things weren't going his way. Then again, wasn't that all men? "Oh." The single-worded response was the only one given, before she added ... "Maybe he wasn't ready to hear what you had to say."
"That's the problem. I don't know if he's ever going to be ready." The thing is, they didn't have a lot of time to begin with. Sure, if they were two normal guys in their mid twenties, this wouldn't be such a big deal. They could work it out eventually, and until then, suffer through it until everyone cooled off enough to forgive and forget. But there was nothing normal about this situation. And yet even sitting here complaining about how stubborn his brother was being about all this, he couldn't help but defend him. "He's really not a bad guy. He's just ... he's been through a lot. We lost our dad recently. He and Dean were close. Things haven't been the same since." They'd progressively gone downhill from there - although their heightened stress also had a lot to do with the fact that Sam's whole 'destined to become evil' fate had been whispered into Dean's ear before their father died.
"You don't think you've helped with that?" Usually when a family lost a mother or a father and there were only two children left behind, those two became closer, but the Winchester's weren't your typical family. Still, she firmly believed that Sam had contributed somehow to getting Dean through the difficult times they'd faced, even if his support hadn't been acknowledged ... although it soon became clear that Sam believed just the opposite.
"No, I don't. I made it worse." He'd screwed everything up. Before he was even old enough to understand what was going on, he'd managed to rob their family of a mother and, if you got right down to it, a father too. Their childhood had been taken away that one tragic night. And ultimately, Mom had died because of him. The Yellow-Eyed Demon had made that clear.
"That's what you really think?" She asked, her tone laced with disbelief.
"Yeah, it is. Because it's the truth." If he hadn't made that deal, at least he and Dean would still be speaking to one another.
This situation was far more serious than she'd thought. So much pain and confusion had resulted from one misunderstanding. Granted, it was an extremely big misunderstanding, but a misinterpretation of the facts, nonetheless. Each brother was blaming himself for the way things had turned out, and Sam? Not only was he making this all his fault, but he thought Dean hated him. He thought his actions had been what drove his brother over the edge ... and it was obvious why he'd think that. But he couldn't have been more wrong, at least about Dean hating him. He had drove a wedge between himself and his only remaining living relative, but the beautiful thing about space was that it could be filled in over time, until there was no gap left at all. Finally, with the corners of her lips dipped down into a frown, she'd ask the pivotal question. "What did you do?" When she caught his questionable glance, she'd clarify, although she had a feeling he knew exactly what she meant. "To make him so angry. What is it that you did?"
He swallowed around the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. Just thinking about it all ... it was too much. After everything they'd been through, this was just too much. There was no way he could explain it, just like there was no way he could make it right. He'd driven the nail into the proverbial coffin, and soon it wasn't going to matter one way or the other whether they went out together or one by one. 'Cause once they were in Hell ... Sam couldn't even go there. He couldn't begin to envision it, because if he did, he would just shut down. He was absolutely terrified, but this time his big brother wasn't there to tell him everything was going to be okay. And even if he was here, it would just be empty words being said, because nothing about this was okay. Things would never be okay again.
She could tell he was hesitant to say, so she extended a hand to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. At this point, they'd both found a seat at one of the tables, having done so once the conversation started to take such a serious turn. It was better this way: sitting still. It meant she could draw his full attention more easily. "It can't be that bad." Although he sure seemed to think so. -- No matter how bad it was, one of them had to be the optimist here. Looked like that someone was going to have to be her, but that was her specialty: bringing people together. It was incredibly difficult sometimes, but just as he and his brother were good at what they did, she was good at what she did. She felt confident that this wasn't a challenge she couldn't handle.
'It doesn't matter." It's not like pouring his heart out to this stranger was going to change anything, although he appreciated that she was trying to help. What she didn't realize was that there was no way to fix this. She was just wasting her time. So why was he even sitting here telling her all this? Simple. He had no one else to talk to. He'd been carrying this weight around on his shoulders until he was so bogged down that he didn't know if he could keep going. He was just so tired, and he knew that wherever Dean was, he was feeling the same way ... and probably doing something reckless just to prove he could. And Sam - well, he was unable to reach out to his brother and offer him any form of comfort. He'd even lost all rights to tell him what to do or lecture him on right and wrong. It just wouldn't be the same. The ironic part of all this was they'd both been so determined not to live without the other; now they would both die alone. "It's already done."
"Not necessarily." She waited until his gaze met hers. She wanted to make sure he wasn't tuning her out. "You think you've driven your brother away for good because you made one mistake?"
He sighed. "It's complicated."
She shook her head vigorously. "No, it isn't. He wasn't willing to listen to you before, so try again. If you're half as important to him as he is to you, then he'll hear you. You just have to keep making the effort. You can't give up, because that's what he wants. Or that's what he wants you to think he wants. It's easier for him to shut you out if you've given up too. But I don't believe for a second that he doesn't want things to improve just as badly as you do, no matter what was done to set this whole thing in motion." She wanted so desperately for him to believe what she was saying, because every word of it was true. She couldn't explain how she knew, but she wasn't just making this up as she went along. Faith had drawn Sam Winchester this far, and he still had enough left to carry himself and his brother towards a solution that would inevitably save their souls. But they needed to do it together.
Brows furrowed, and a heavy line creased its way across his forehead as he struggled with what to do. He'd already tried to talk it out with Dean, and it hadn't made a bit of difference. Why would doing it again have any more of an impact than his first attempt? But if at first you don't succeed ... it's not like he could make it any worse. And it was true that sometimes ( and there was a big emphasis placed on the word 'sometimes' ) if he drilled something into Dean's head repeatedly, he was more likely to buy it - or better yet, believe it. No matter how major this seemed, maybe it was still something they could work through. Sam was beginning to seriously doubt it was possible, but he wasn't ready to give up - not on his brother. Not on the one person in this whole God-forsaken world that he admired and loved more than anything. Because of that hope, as false as it might've been, she was able to convince him ( for the time being, anyway ) to give it another shot. That is, if he could find Dean again.
After another minute or so passed, he'd give a weak nod to show that he was willing to keep fighting a little while longer. A partial smile formed, although it was weighed down by the heaviness of his heart. It might've been a good pep-talk, but he hadn't disillusioned himself into thinking that this was some sort of miracle that had just dropped out of the sky, slapped him in the face, and gave him instructions on what to do. It was still going to be hard and painful, but if there was even the slightest chance it would work, it'd be worth it. And he had this woman to thank for that - a woman whose name he didn't even know. "Thanks." The sincere expression of gratitude was made before he planned on asking her name, but instead something else caught his eye. The necklace she was wearing ... something about it seemed distinctly familiar, yet he couldn't place where he'd seen it or even figure out why it meant anything to him. Ultimately, he decided that it didn't mean a thing and shook the distracting thought away. He had bigger things to focus on than where he'd seen a piece of jewelry. "I'm Sam, by the way."
There were those dimples. There might just be hope for this one yet. "Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Laura."
"The pleasure's all mine, really." Who else would've been patient enough to sit here and listen to all his problems? Not to mention hand out such sound advice when only knowing pieces of the situation. She deserved some kind of medal or something, and he now felt guilty about taking up so much of her time by dumping this all over her. She probably had her own problems to deal with, but instead she was here having to take care of a grown man who should've learned his own life lessons by now. "I'm sorry about all this. I shouldn't have gone on the way I did."
"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked." That was the bottom line. She'd approached him. If she'd wanted to be spared the messy details of his tumultuous life, she could've walked right on by. That wasn't what she'd wanted. She could tell he was a guy who needed a friend. "Besides, you helped me get this place set up. I never could've done it without you." Even if they had settled down and focused primarily on talking for the last twenty minutes or so, they'd finished the task they started. The room was almost perfect, minus the flowers that wouldn't arrive until the morning of the wedding.
When it was obvious that he was about to make his exit, she'd chime in with an invitation. "But if you really feel that bad about it, you can buy me dinner. There's this nice little diner that sits right on the outskirts of town. You can't miss it. We could meet there around eight?"
He really should start trying to track Dean down again, but guess there wasn't any harm in taking a short break to show his appreciation for someone who had been nothing but generous from the start. After a brief moment of trepidation, he replied. "Eight it is. I'll see ya."
"Yeah, see ya." She gave a tiny wave before Sam disappeared out the door. That was the first time her smile really faltered for any length of time. Eight o'clock. That was her deadline, but she'd show - and hopefully with more to offer.