found this little monster tucked away in the comp and thought i'd post x

WARNING- spoilers for season 3 finale- and gotta say I DIED! and have not stopped friggin crying...but yep...spoilers x

- wouldnt it be great if the visions came back and Sam saw a way to save Dean through that?...sorry my mind is off again- Someone should write that!

Summary:- Tag to 'Long Distance Caller' Sam got hit over the head with a bat, wrists bloody from the cutting phone wires...and then the fight with the Crocotta who has the knife? Dean doesn't see the effects of what happened until Sam can't hide them anymore. Bro angst. Limp- Sam.

Warning: spoilers, language, maybe brotherly anger and Limp with angst...and to be read with slightly mad or insane tendancies, or sarcastic influence would help...get the picture better x

lol- also it's not exactly like the eppie, theres some differences and some changes..ofcourse I have to be arkward, right?

Also warning of the episode Time Is On My Side- breif mention at the bottom x

(Question of the week)-another lil hint to my insane-ness...how do chickens point?...i've been wondering all night...

Sam didn't really notice the feeling someone was behind him until the brain numbing explosion of pain as the phone guy swung the bat.

And that hurt, becasue Sam went down fast and hard. Knocking him out before he hit the concrete usually wasn't a great sign.

Yeah thumbs up for next time.

Sam didn't really notice or remember where he was until he had to pry heavy laden lids open and actually see the phone guy with the other phone guy, tied to a chair.

What?...

Thoughts jumbled together and short circuited as Sam began to remember...

The phone guy...er...no. Actually their hunt had the other...phone guy?..and for the life of him Sam couldn't place his name, tied to a chair and in absoloute fear.

Sam felt the man's terror from the hurt look in his too wide, too expressive eyes that just made his job too damn hard to face anymore.

Especially without Dean. And that hurt more than the throbbing in his head from where the bat made contact.

More like broke in contact...thats what it felt like. Splinters of wood digging and burying into his brain and in sharp rythmetic throbs.

Yeah, perfect vision of a healthspa.

Random patches of thought began to clump together and dread dropped in Sam's stomach spreading throughout his whole body making him rigid and jump in his tied position.

Everything suddenly made sense. It wasn't Dean who he'd spoken to before, and it wasn't the phone guy he' thought he'd been after. It was ironically the opposite and Dean was in some serious fucking shit if Sam didn't high tail it outta there and save him.

"NO..no..please don't do it, I'm sorry Clark...whatever I did to you, I'm sorry-"

Clark?...so that's the guys name...no, crocotta...that's no man...

"Wait, wait..don't do it-" Sam said, finding his voice which was weak and wobbling to his own ears.

Clark smiled at him, no- the crocotta...it had Sam's knife and leaning over its next victim. Poor guy.

"You're awake." It almost hissed and leaned down behind the trembling body.

"No Clark, you're not a killer Clark,no!...no... there's a good man inside of you, I know it." the thick wobbling accent said. Usual defence when you're about to die right?

There's the chat back, first stage. The silence, at comfortable second and finally admittance and denial. Admitting up at the killer you're afraid because you're complimenting them and denial you're about to die because they're apparently not killers.

When did begging for your life get so messed up?

Sam tugged on the restraints, tight and sharp phone wire cut into his wrists making them bloody, slick and helpful to squeeze out of.

Sam winced when one wire dug a little too deep for comfort and he heard the faint patter of blood as it hit the linolium floor.

Great, soul gets chowed on or I bleed to death...hmm which to choose?...

Clark-the crocotta stared lifelessly straight at Sam.

"What do you think Sammy?...Am I a good maaaan?" He drawled. The other phone guy wimpered in protest- well there's always a fourth stage...fear kinda' takes over.

Sam schooled his features. "Just let him go." But his voice gave it away, the pain of another life lost on his watch when he was susposed to be saving them.

Saving Dean.

"Oh I would..." Clark seemed to frown, as though he felt any emotion to the next death on his hands. "If only I had more than a salad for lunch..." Clark raised the knife and stood.

The helpless victim wimpered more, mouth open almost ready in a silent scream.

Sam winced, he hoped he wouldn't.

"Im starving..." The crocotta said, flinging the knife above him as Sam yelled out.

"NO!"

The knife buried to the hilt in the guys chest.

And Sam couldn't even remember his name.

Sam grimaced, watching as the former Clark stretch his mouth un-humanly wide and devoured an innoccents soul.

Now that..was sick, especially after some of the things he'd seen during his supernatural filled life.

Crocotta's were sick.

"That last call with Dean...it was you." Sam smiled in obvious 'what idiot am I' face. "You led me here..." Sam emphasised the word 'you'. He felt like an idiot.

Rushing in guns blazing, well knife actually...over a few words from Dean.

"Sam the flies at the phone company"- How could he have been so stupid, going on blind faith like that-

Like Dean was with their fathers phone calls?...now he felt stupid and a hipocrit. Great.

"Some calls I make..some calls I take...but you had to admit. I had you pretty fooled for awhile." The crocotta smiled like he'd won the playboy mansion on some cheap lucky lottery ticket.

"All that Edison phone crap..."

Sam thought heatedly. Like you fooled Dean...like you got us against each other like the trickster did...

Clark laughed. "Well, well..." he chuckled and pressed ten fingered digits to the phone panal on the wall, it blinked and beeped sporadically.

"What are you doing?" Sam said venomously.

The crocotta's neck arched and his eyes spread open like some deadly creature in disguise. Well technically he was...not the first time something's seemed so human and normal and actually wasn't.

"I'm killing your brother..." he said matter-of-fact. "Or maybe killing another guy...we'll have to see how it goes..." he frowned in thought then closed his eyes ready to make the call, ready to kill the other Winchester and stop him coming back after he's killed Sam. The way the Crocotta saw it, if Dean was dead he would'n't come after him when Sam died oh so very soon and he'd have two or three souls to munch on whether Dean was killer or killed.

Sam's face grimaced. He was gonna' be too late to save Dean.

The crocotta pulled the knife out of the lifeless souless body with a tug and squish sound.

"You know mimicking Dean is one thing...but my dad...that's a hell of a trick." Sam started to make small talk, more time get out save Dean, and hopefully work loose his now blood coated hands from the phone cables and hope Clark ignored the growing puddle of blood behind the chair.

"Once I made you two as hunters...it was easy." Clark pushed away the body and watched it collide with a jolt into a meshed fence over the electricity source.

"Found Dean's number...then your number..." he waved the knife at Sam still coated in blood as he moved closer. Sam pushing as far back in the chair as he could.

"Then your father's numbers...and the emails...and voicemails...everything. See, people think that stuff just gets erased...but it doesn't..."

Sam tugged on the wires still cutting into his flesh, eyes narrowed and staring at Clark as he waved the knife ever so closer to Sam's face.

"You'd be suprised how much of yourself is out there...just floating...waiting to be plucked."

"Dean's not gonna' fall for this...he's not gonna' kill that guy." Sam said with a fake smile as the crocotta followed his movement, surely he'd noticed the constant tugging of the wires by now, Sam hoped he didn't or that would fuck his plans to hell.

"Then the guy kills him..." Clark answered, so sure of himself it was almost a smug teasing smile as the knife came a little too close to Sam's eyes.

"Technology...makes life so much easier..."

Sam sat rigid as Clark moved closer with the knife, stroking through his hair, the blood still clotting up the knife made Sam feel queasy.

"Used to be I'd hide in the woods for days...weeks, whispering to people..." He circled Sam.

Sam kept the wires together although he didn't miss the hiss of pleasure in the crocotta's voice when it saw his bleeding wrists.

"Trying to draw them out in the night..."

Sam tugged free a little more. Almost...got it...

"But they had community...they all looked out after each other..." He sneered at the memory. "I'd be lucky to eat two, maybe three souls a year...but now" he drawled again, reaching further forward with the blade to Sam's face. "I simply make a phone call..." he smiled.

"You're all so connected...but you've never been so alone..." The look on his face made Sam think he understood the loneliness.

It smiled then his jaws stretched revealing the soul sucking sharp teeth on blood red gums, ironically at least he wouldn't actually be biting Sam with those, they still made a shiver shoot up his spine.

Using all his strength Sam snapped open his wrists untangling the wire as Clark raised the knife ready for the death strike.

Sam vaugely thought if Clark mauling on his soul would actually hurt, or if he'd feel anything when he sprang up out of the chair and tackled clark to the ground, the knife spinning away.

Oh yeah, Game on.

Clark fell with a humanly thud but unfortunatley he didn't recover as slowly as a human did, so advantage post one, to good ole Crocotty.

Sam reached up for the knife as soon as he was free from the tackle, the crocotta with an added...more than human strength too, advantage post two grabbed Sam by the shirt as he stood on unsteady legs swinging him back with added force.

Being beaten by a bat, bloodloss and procrastination by the big supernatural fugly will do that to a guy. Especially the long monolouges every creature insists on giving.

Sam hit the metal fencing with a crash and vibrating force that shook the fence and him, then his head...who knew you could actually see three of something?

When Sam looked again the fast beaty fucker not only was standing mouth open in that freaky 'I'll-eat-you' teeth showing growl, he had the bloody knife too.

Okay, advantage three...speed.

Come on Winchester if bookies got a bet on you, they'd shoot themselves instead of losing out.

With the knife aimed high above his head the crocotta charged forward at a deterioating Sam. That was not good.

Sam took the first blow with less ease than the next five, nose bloody and cheek sore he went again to try and disarm the supernatural being.

It merely shook him off again, weaker then before and pushed hims backwards with a punch, sending Sam spiraling into a desk and the knife still firmly clutched in its hands, or claws...whatever its real form's hands were.

Spinning round to face off yet again with the fugly, Sam felt blood drip off his chin from his nose and hastily wiped it away with his jacket sleeve.

"You can't win Winchester...no-one will, I'm much too advanced than I used to be and the people aren't as close as they once were, you're all sitting bait out there...all waiting for my next meal."

"I won't let you have Dean..." Sam said, straight faced and confident although he felt his own walls break and crumble to be flattened a long time ago.

With a jerking head nod from the crocotta Sam got no warning as it jumped forward and lunged at him.

Sam fell back hitting his head on the linolium, again in a flop of hair as the crocotta raised the knife again and brought it down into the linolium.

Sam rolled sidewards just in time, and then with a well placed kick to the side of the face the crocotta fell back.

Sam had only blinked and it was standing, right in front of him knife extended and closing in fast.

He didn't get the time to jump backwards only raised his arm for the on coming fist aswell and felt the blade peirce his skin.

It was sharp, it was fast and he felt it, push through him and stab into him. Although the pain was sharp at first, it wasn't over quickly, the pain spiked and lingered as Clark jerked the knife, lodged in Sam's side just above his hip.

He gasped and gargled what he was about to say, to scream and cry out but he couldn't even think about words, because god damn it, the pain was so overwhelming.

"Ah...ugh...guh..." Sam pushed back weakly as the crocotta let the knife go, still sqeuring Sam.

It smiled, and opened its jaws to take his soul when Sam stepped forward with his weight and height helping him swing his fist harder and Clark stepped back with a peircing squelch as a wall bracket buried into his skull.

Pained orbs gazed at Sam then slid half mast as blood dripped from his mouth.

Winner: overall advantage and winning team. Sam was a Winchester. End of game.

Sam grimaced, hand leaning on the desk, the other barely grasping the hilt of the knife even if he touched it the pain spiked and if he moved...Oh god...if I move...

He wasn't going to concern about that right now though.

He had to call Dean.

And another fuckingly painfully ironic thing, it was a phone company...so why couldn't he find a fucking phone?...and where was his?

Sam stopped, mid-way to a table as his side burned and became slick with blood. He couldn't call Dean, he'd just blow his brothers chances and beliefs away all over again, he couldn't do that to his brother right now, couldn't add to his worries because he got a little banged up yet again on his own, how would that make Dean feel when he actually was alone?...in about 2 weeks when Dean's deal was up.

Sam berated himself, grasped the knifes handle steadily breathing through the pain he pulled and at first it didn't move. It was already swollen around the knife and it was a jagged edge, oh wasn't that going to be a delight to pull out.

Sam tugged again feeling it grate and pull on his insides, actually feel them ripping and bleeding within him. That was a fucking good sign now wasn't it?

Another tug and it was halfway out, Sam breathed deeply trying not to move too much and gripped the handle firmly.

He pulled.

And it felt like a million fucking needles slicing through every nerve, sickness overhwelmed him and his legs just gave way.

His head was spinning and he was pretty sure those tiny little dancer spots shouldn't be in his vision at all.

Sam went down.

For the...he didn't know how many times, that night and lost conciousness.

Fuck-bloody-tastic.

When Sam awoke, he didn't know how long later he felt a wet patch beneath him and groggy.

When he tried to sit up...that was another story.

Searing agony burned through him, stomach muscles on fire and seemingly burned away with acid around the knife wound. Oh yeah...now he remembered.

Clambering to his feet Sam swayed and felt the blood drain from his face, his head still throbbed and his side felt like a lion had just been chewing on it for a few days, or maybe something had crawled in there and been set on fire.

Not to mention it already had the other guys blood on that knife. Sam's stomach suddenly rebelled and he felt nausious.

Looking at the knife he can remember as it clattered to the floor and felt himself falling in slow motion.

Inhaling with a hiss through clenched teeth Sam made it out of the phone company and to his hired car.

Driving was another story too...apparently when the oncoming cars sounded like mega-blasters beeping his ears off and there was three of each it wasn't a good idea to drive, and the zig-zag motion he was driving in left bizare patterns on the road.

He was glad and exhausted when he finally made it to the hotel and noticed the impala outside their room.

"Thank god...Dean's okay..." Sam slurred and stepped...rather fell out of his car.

Opening the motel door was the next dilemma when he couldn't tell which lock he was susposed to be opening, and walking in without alerting Dean was gonna' be like poking a bear with a gum tack.

Real easy.

Piece of cake.

No problem.

Except it wasn't just any brother, this was Dean. King of hiding things, and seeing past disguises. Master of 'fakin it' and Sam didn't think he'd get in very far before Dean knew something was wrong.

Sam was wrong though.

Dean saw straight away.

As soon as Sam passed behind Dean in the mirror he could tell and immediatley stood forward.

"I see they rearranged your face." Dean said lightly, no sarcasm, no emotion. Just testing the waters.

"...yeah..."

Sam took a little too long to answer and too little to say to that comment.

"Sam?..." Dean asked, warning and hinting..because something didn't feel right.

"S'okay...'m fine..."

Dean ran forward in time to catch Sam as his legs gave out again and he fell with an exhaling breath.

"SHIT..Sam?...Sammy?"

Dean lowered Sam safely to the motel carpet, although hygienically he didn't know how technically safe it was.

Confused hazel orbs gazed back at Dean and then he knew something was more than 'didn't feel right' it was completley and fucking south of that.

Dean scanned over Sam, checking the beaten face and shallow breathing he checked for breaks and noticed how Sam favoured his right side.

Carefully lifting Sam's jacket and shirt as Sam moaned, eyes clenched shut Dean was afraid he could break something with those lids, Dean saw the blood, the redness and then the gaping great slit from an obvious knife wound just above Sam's left hip, blood continued to trickle and he knew it probably hadn't hit anything major noting how far to his side it actually was, still that didn't mean it hadn't and it was a pretty serious wound, how deep it went and how much blood Sam had lost compared ot how much it must have fucking hurt.

Dean nodded the kid on the bravery front, how he'd managed to make it back to their hotel, drive and actually walk was beyond him. Sam was full of fucking surprises.

Like this little happy accident here.

Dean tugged off Sam's jacket afer that, ripped his shirt open and then the tee under that, using them to mop up the blood as Sam's back arched and he nearly bit off his tongue to stop the screaming.

"Fuck, Sam I'm sorry..I should've listened...it's gonna' be okay, ya' here?...Sammy I can fix this, you're gonna' be okay..." Dean can't remember what he said or how many times he did but Sam watched him, clenching his eyes and opening his mouth in a silent scream most of the time, soft gasps and laboured breathing the only thing making noise after awhile when he couldn't scream anymore because he'd ran his voice raw from the yelling and screaming before.

He was still concious, which was another fucking ironically evil bitch to deal with.

Dean had to clean and stitch the knife wound which turned out as, not too bad because it could've been so much worse and thank god Bobby's was close enough Dean could get Sam there for a second opinion.

Bobby had helped out, although holding a six foot four peice of muscle down, stubborn muscle as Bobby added wasn't an easy task especially when they had to clean the wound with peroxide and bandage him up.

Bobby had left the kid to rest up for awhile, with Dean being so much quieter sitting downstairs a lot.

And he knew something was gonna' be eating both Wichesters up.

After a few days and still Sam wasn't a hundred percent, Bobby had talked to Sam and still came up with nothing. Apart from finding gashes up Sam's wrists and then finding out the crocotta had done a lot more than he thought, he'd taken care of it and lightly mentioned it to Dean.

When later that day Sam had passed out suddenly and Dean found the huge egg smacked on the back of Sam's head he'd waited until Sam came round before going balistic and then deciding if a hospital wasn't a bad idea.

"What the hell Sam, why didn you tell me you had the state of Kansas sticking out the back of your head?"

"Dean...please...I didn't want to worry you more, I've failed in so much and...this...this is just another failure on my part, how can I show you, you can leave me without knowing I'd get killed maybe a day after your deal...I couldn't and after...dad..." sam trailed off. It still hurt to bring up john and after the phone calls... right now, feeling still so off he felt vulnerable to Dean's probing questions, and right now when everything seemed on top of him and the his world was about to break he really couldnt handle it.

"Sam, you know I don't think you're a failure right?...you can go on without me, but I still gotta' trust you to tell me things when your worse off and I'm actually here to still help." Dean said, compassion and understanding evident in his vibrant green eyes.

Sam had grown up to that green.

"Okay..." Sam swallowed and the moment sat between them like years, everything felt alright and settled.

And Bobby made sure it stayed that way, until the dust was kicked up again in yet another town, and another creature.

Doc Benton.

Another Game on.

And I'd still bet on the Winchesters.

END!