|Sam Winchester (bitch____) wrote,|
@ 2008-07-16 17:39:00
|Entry tags:||dean winchester, sam winchester, trickster|
Quit playing games with my heart ( cont. of last Sam one-shot, except more like a fic this time )
Come on! How could someone supposedly so brilliant be so dense when it came to the obvious things. "You really don't get it, do you Sam?" The Trickster canted his head to the side, expectantly waiting for the other to piece it all together. Now was it all starting to come together? It should be. This wasn't one of his more elaborate schemes. What usually happened when he was in town? What started out as a harmless prank got a little out of hand, and sometimes people ended up getting hurt. But it's not like any of these people were ever innocent or upstanding citizens. Nothing like that. So he considered himself doing the world a favor by seeing to it that they got what was coming to them. Ya know, ridding civilization of these parasites in the most entertaining ways possible. Creativity was key! Kept things from getting too boring.
Sam continued to stare blankly at his opponent, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Get what?" He hadn't put two and two together. As far as he could tell, the Trickster hadn't been manipulating anyone in town. So if anything was happening, he and Dean hadn't heard about it. And since their time wasn't being consumed by any other jobs at the moment, they would've most likely caught on to something out of the ordinary. But obviously the games were still going on; they'd just missed the signs. There was no doubt in his mind that the one-of-a-kind villain was hinting at something in particular. Something he should've known by now, but he didn't. Apparently, because otherwise he would be talking to his brother about this so that they could plan their next move. Although as usual, his curiosity had taken a hold of him.
"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out." It was a little disappointing, actually. This wasn't nearly as fun with the human mop over there completely oblivious to how he'd been putting his skills to use. Good use, too, in his humble opinion - not that he was all that humble. Humility was not one of his strong suits. Why waste his time with it? He could do anything he wanted. With that kind of power came a certain carefree attitude about the rest of the world and, well, the silly traits that defined the human race. They were a pretty pathetic bunch. If you looked close enough, it was easy to see. Why would he lower himself to their level when he could reign as a superior being? No contest.
"Just cut the crap, and tell me what you're talking about." Sam wasn't amused. He didn't want this to turn into one big endless riddle for him to have to solve. He preferred straight-forward answers. Clearly he and the one he was conversing with disagreed on that point, but oh well. He could keep up the interrogation as long as he needed to. Fortunately, even though he wasn't always that patient, he was determined: determined enough to see this through, tricks or no tricks.
The Trickster rolled his eyes. Looks like he'd have to spell it out for Sam, 'cause the guy seemed to have been struck by a case of the stupids all of a sudden. Or maybe he'd always been dumb, and everyone just gave him far too much credit. Either way, it wasn't anything he couldn't work around. This way worked as good as any. "Had any scary dreams lately?" That was the opener that should have been a dead giveaway.
Any scary dreams? Why would the Trickster care about- His thought was cut off midstream when the realization hit him. "You ..." The accusatory word was spoken with disdain as his shoulders stiffened and rolled back slightly to make him appear taller. So that's what'd happened. That's why he 'remembered' everything now. That's why he'd had the nightmare in the first place - or flashback, or whatever it was. Because this moron had been screwing with him and getting a real kick out of it in the process. What a sicko. To cook up a mirage that elaborate - that gory and realistic - it was unfathomable to Sam. But that's what this thing did for a living: he made people's lives miserable. He found their trigger, and he used it to break them down - or kill them, whichever came first.
Arms lifted out by his sides in a 'you got me' sorta gesture, as a beaming smile spread across his face. "That's right." Now he could be proud. He could take credit for his work. Whew. For a minute there, he'd been worried his efforts were in vain.
Sam swallowed as he shook his head in disgust. "How?" How had he managed to get inside his head and make him see all that when he wasn't even awake?
Wasn't it obvious? They really should've known how all this was done by now. It wasn't like this was their first encounter. "I can create whatever I want." Simple as pie, really. Speaking of ... there wasn't any lying around here, was there? Or cake. Cake was even sweeter. And with his sweet tooth, the more sugar the better. A candy bar would work too - or maybe a chocolate sundae. Hmm. Now he was kind of hoping they could wrap this up, so he could go satisfy his craving. All he'd really wanted was to see the look on Sam's face when he figured it out: priceless. Which had already been accomplished, so no need to stick around and give these hunters a chance to finish what they'd started.
"So it wasn't real." It was spoken more like a statement than a question. If the Trickster had done this, and his speciality was picking all these bizarre scenarios and turning them into reality just for fun, then what he'd seen hadn't been anything more than a stage set especially for him. It'd been like watching a performance: one that was so convincingly portrayed that you left the theater feeling what those characters felt, but that was the extent of it. The rest ... it was only to create unforgettable special effects. Placing Dean in the middle of it was the sucker-punch: the climax. Nothing more.
The Trickster shot that interpretation down real fast. "Oh, it was real. All I did was recapture the moment. I did a pretty good job, didn't I?" Sure, a lot of times he made stuff up. For example, the alien spaceship that had come down and swept up that sleazeball. Probing and slow dancing? Forget about it. It was all fake. He'd pulled ideas like that out of a tabloid magazine, and everyone knew most of those stories were a load of crap. That didn't make the outcome any less real, though. His goal was always the same, but his methods differed from time to time. And this time, he'd gone legit. He'd done a little back-tracking, a little soul searching, and produced the facts. If Sam didn't like that, it wasn't his problem. He wasn't the one with the inquiring mind.
Sam felt his heart sink deeper into his chest. It was real - allegedly. Question was, could he trust the source? What did the Trickster really know about telling the truth? Was he even capable of it? After shaking his head as if trying to deny the whole thing, he'd come back with an entirely different question. "Why are you doing this?"
Seriously? "The last time I saw you guys, you tried to kill me." A person didn't need any more motive than that - or even someone who wasn't so much a person. Attempted murder was the same all around. Always produced hard feelings. Go figure.
"So this is about revenge?" It was a logical assumption to make, especially with what had just been said.
"Wrong again! What I do is give people their just desserts: what they deserve." And this, my fine friend, is what Sam deserved. He wanted to talk about brutal honesty? Well, here it was. It didn't get any more brutal than this. But this wasn't done out of spite. Quite the contrary. He couldn't find enough meanness in him to really pull a number on these guys, because they were so darn entertaining all on their own. They didn't need any outside help, not usually. But since he'd been passing through, he couldn't resist. Especially after hearing all the Challenge buzz. Now that was interesting. So they were still out there dazzling the planet with their sparkling personalities ( ha, yeah right ). Good to know.
"And this is what I deserve?" Maybe it was, but Sam wasn't about to admit that aloud. Instead he came back with, "I still don't see how this isn't about payback."
"You wanted to know the truth. I showed it to you. I actually saved you a step. Now you don't have to go hunting down anyone, or should I say anything, else to give you the answers you're looking for." The beauty of this business was that he got to know everything: everyone's dirty little secrets. So he could read Sam's mind, sort of. Okay, so it didn't work exactly like that, but he knew what the other was thinking. He was pretty predictable: like a broken record. There was a pattern with the youngest Winchester: an unmistakable pattern - one he'd point out a little bit later. It seemed like a good exit speech. After all, he'd have to make a bold exit. His entrance hadn't been as grand as he would've liked, so he'd need to make up for it. No problem though! It could all be easily fixed. How did the saying go? Sometimes you just had to roll with the punches. That was him: just going with the flow, and the current was getting stronger by the minute.
"Don't expect a thank you," Sam replied flatly. How did he even know all this?
"I don't. Believe me. I knew you'd be ungrateful: that my selfless efforts to help you would go unappreciated." So maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but he honestly believed he was helping the other out - much more than he realized. Once Sam was done being mad about the whole thing, maybe he'd see it from the Trickster's point of view. Or maybe not. He was awfully thick-headed. But no skin off his back either way. He had no personal investment in this: nothing at stake when it came to whether anyone believed him or not. That was for everyone else to come to terms with on his/her own time. They just better not expect him to stick around till that happened, because he had other places to be, and other things to do.
Had he heard him correctly? Surely he hadn't. "Help me?" His tone was etched with utter disbelief, as his jaw loosened enough to hang open an inch or so. That had to be the biggest lie he'd heard yet.
Alright, here we go: time to say over and out. Insert pivotal speech: "The thing about you, Sam, is that you always want to know the truth, or so you claim. But once you do, you resent the person that told it to you. Well, I can't help it that you didn't like what you saw. That's what happened. You go around asking a bunch of demons about it, and they'll lie. But I didn't. That's not how I operate. So like it, or don't. Makes no difference to me, but I'm outta here before you fellas bust out the stakes." Truth hurts: motto of the day. Sam would just have to deal with it. He'd made his bed, and now he must lie in it, what goes around comes around ... all that jazz. Yadda, yadda, yadda, etc., etc. Were they done here now? Yes. As far as the Trickster was concerned, they were. But he couldn't make his departure without adding one last quip. "Oh, and tell Dean I said hello, hope to see him next time." Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone. Poof! Just like that. Wasn't magic great?
As for Sam ... well, he was left contemplating the universe and the consequences of his actions. But hey! At least now he knew. So, could he live with that knowledge? Only time would tell.