Are You Sammy ?
Chapter 15 - Gone With The Wind.
"You want to tell me about it, Sammy?"
Sam growled wasn't for sharing tonight.
"Why do you have to be such a jerk?" He asked in reply.
"Why do you have to always be such a moany little bitch?" Dean shot back defiantly. He had corned Sam and Sam knew it. All he could hope for now was that he would confide in him when he was ready. After all he had no idea what was going on in Sam's head, whether he was battling to keep the dam up or whether the kid just had access to a select amount of the psychic ability. After all, they didn't know if the power was all demonic or if the blood had just amplified a hidden psychic ability that Sam was born with.
Sam finished his soda and crushed the bottle in his hands before throwing it into the trash can, "I'm going to bed."
"Night." Dean bleated automatically before going to rest himself on the sofa in front of the television. Bobby and his Dad had went for a few at the motel bar and wouldn't be back till late. They were off to drink away their frustration. It was Dean's job to watch Sam and he was fine with that. Sam wasn't a burden. He was a gift and he really needed to realize that and stop thinking he was this bad burden.
"Night little brother." Dean mumbled more to himself than Sam. He just liked saying the words.
Sam was floating in an endless sea of night, a humid air swirling all around coating his skin in a cool watery film; like standing on a rock by the sea, the spray lashing at his toes. The atmostphere felt tight and uncomfortable, causing a tightness in his head and making it hurt. He had no idea how large or small the space he was suspended in was, nor did he know where he was or how he got there. Sam just knew something terrible was coming for him, preying on him out in the darkest recesses of this black dimension. It knew the place well, and was more enept in manoeuvering it's way through the wisps than Sam was. He could sense it's approach, so he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.
The voice echoed and multiplied as it faded out. Sam recognized it straight away as the voice of his previous Father. He could could only shiver in reply.
Your mind speaks louder than your words, you know.
Sam's eyes shot open and his mouth opened in a gasp, could he hear his thoughts? That was concerning. He knew the man who raised him had been a demon, he understood that very well and that was bad enough on it's own. But what Sam wanted was an explaination. He wanted to know why? Why him? Why had be been chosen out of all the 6 month old babies in the world? Why did he have to be stolen from the warm of his own home and family and have his own Mother murdered with such brutality?
So much to ask, so much to learn.
For the first time, the voice was speaking in riddles and to be honest it was not an improvement. It just served to thourghly aggrivate him.
Go on, Sammy. Ask a question! Any question! Try using your outside voice, Buddy!
"What's your name?"
His voice came suddenly, and even Sam wondered why he had began with it. He supposed he wanted a solid name for which he could call the demon instead of 'Fake Father' or 'Previous Father' using the word 'Father' in anyway linked to the son-of-a-bitch was an insult to his real Father. He didn't want to be linking his real family with the imposters.
Great. Sam had done his demonology read-ups and if his mind served him correctly he had been raised by the Lieutenant of Hell. That had brought things to a new level of crap. Sam was beginning to realize just how huge his situation was and how worse it would most likely get.
I'm glad your starting to get the bigger picture here, champ. It has been taking a while. But CONGRATSULATIONS! We are finally heading in the right direction!
Sam kept his voice steady and strong, he had to be strong. He couldn't let himself show fear, that was a weakness and Winchester's didn't have weaknesses.
You just keep telling yourself that.
Azazel could read his mind, he had forgotten that... Shit.
Forgetful as well as weak. Not building up the best repitoure here. Now, why you? Well that't easy! It always had to be you, Sam.
That was not an anwser, more riddles and wind-ups.
"Why the blood? Why any of the shit you put me through!?"
Commanding! I like it!
Sam was getting majorly pissed off. He could feel the anger bubbling just below the surface. It was red hot like flames, swirling and consuming his cool.
Focus the anger, Sam. Use it!
How can I anwser your question if you want me to cram it? Make up your mind here, Sam. We haven't got all day. you will wake-up eventually.
These dreams had been recurring, but not always with an audience. Usually Sam would just float around in the darkness before waking up. It had only happened on a few occasions, but when Azazel entered his dream, it was never a welcome visit.
I'm hurt. But, I do have a sechdual to keep. Can't stay in this pretty head of yours forever, now can I?.
Why the blood? Well that's easy! You needed it to bring out your full potential.
You are the first human being in history to form a bond with the blood of a demon. Your body didn't reject it, instead it bonded with it. Your cells copied the genetic make-up of mine and voila! HYBRID!
You are more my son than Winchester's...
I trained you Samuel, made you strong. Even if you don't realize it. There is a darkness in you and I have trained that darkness. It is ready and it will consume you. It is the real you, and not this weak little shrub that you have become now. You think just because the scooby gang put lock down on your darkness, that that will stop it? Nothing can stop it. You can't just lock away a huge part of yourself! You are running more than half empty here, champ! You can't keep it up, because it is the main part of you! The soft hearted wimp you so dearly hang onto, is 1/10 of who you are and it is destroying you to deny the rest. You will continue to get sick, until you don't deny yourself. You have more power than any demon and they will fear you. You could lead them all! You are the boy KING!
Yes Sam. This is your fate. And fate cannot be changed.
Jolted awake in a ball of sweat and limbs, Sam flew off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thump followed by a whimper. Dean symultaniously bolted upright, instead he stayed positioned on the bed, a .45 pointing in the direction of the thump. His eyes were still puffy with sleep and realization hadn't totally kicked in as of yet. Dean continued to point the gun until Sam's hand popped up from the floor and onto the bed, his fingers wrapping around the sheets.
"I'm ok." Came Sam's strained voice as he pulled himself up off the floor using the bed sheets. Once on top of the bed, Sam just lay face down in the covers exhausted.
Dean slowly lowered his gun as he began to come to himself and realize what had happened.
"Ya ok there, Sammy?" Dean laughed as he tucked the gun back under his pillow and sluggishly made his way over to the coffee machine, which as it turned out, was still off. "That's weird."
"What?" Sam asked, his head lifting from the sheets and into the air.
"Dad's not back."
Sam turned and looked over to the perfectly made-up sofa bed and then back to Dean and the coffee machine. Usually, their Father would wake-up early and start the coffee machine up so a fresh pot was ready for his boys rising. He would then usually go out and find some decent chow and bring it back to the motel.
"What time is it?"
Dean checked his watch, "8am, we've slept a little later, he should be back by now."
It was true, normally the boys were up at the crack of dawn and John would return just before 7 with the morning meal. This was very unusual that the normal morning routeen hadn't been exicuted. This either meant one of two things. One, Bobby and John had had such a good night, they stayed out all night or Two, something was seriously wrong. And both Winchester brothers feared that it was the second of the two options that seemed the most likely. Damn.
"Is the car still outside?" Sam asked and Dean smiled, his little brother had had the same brainwave at the same time. But he was giving this one too him.
"Good thinking, Sammy."
Dean left the cold coffee machine and went over to the window, peeking to look. Outside, the Impala sat in its space and hadn't been touched. From what Dean could see, there was a white slip of paper clipped under the windsheild. Now, why did Dean have a bad feeling that that would hold the key to finding out their Dad's wereabouts. Why did he feel that there was something about to unfold that he hadn't the slightest desire to ever have found himself in?
Dean opened the motel door, allowing it to swing open and band against the wall with a bang. The noise fell on unhearing ears as Dean approached the note and reached for it, the paper cool on his hand.
Don't come looking for me, this is something I need to do alone.
I got you into this mess and I am damn sure I will get you back out of it.
The demon is my business and I see that now.
I never should have gotten you involved.
It's only put you and now Sam in danger, and I won't loose you to that bastard.
Dean, look after Sammy.
Sammy, do not worry. I will find this son-of-bitch and I will kill him, you'll be free
of him once and for all. I will fix what he has done to you.