Well, here's my new story! It's set in early season 1, before Bloody Mary, while Sam is still dealing with Jess's death, though it also is connected to Sam's whole 'anger at everything' thing in season 5...though there are no spoilers, it's just there that he's angry the whole time, I always liked that idea. I just really love this time frame and really wanted to write something set here.
I've had the first three chapters lazing around on my computer for weeks now and I finally decided to post this…so now I have most of it written already so I should be able to post at least a couple of times a week, it'll be about ten chapters I think altogether….and there will be lots of hurt Sam later on…
I am not making a profit from this story and I don't own anything you recognise from Supernatural-though I'm working on it!
Hope you enjoy...
Sam Winchester was staring blankly out of the motel room window when the Impala pulled up in the parking lot. He registered this without much interest, lost in thought-Dean was back again, no doubt loaded down with burgers and beer. And then he saw it-the flickering, ghostly figure standing staring directly at the car, indistinct from this distance but definitely there. Sam yelled and jumped to his feet, already casting around for the salt-and then Dean opened the car door and got out, and the apparition vanished, as if it had never been there.
Sam blinked, wondering what this could mean. Dean looked up at the window, saw him standing there and waved. Sam shot back a weak smile that of course his brother could not see from this distance. He had just seen a ghost standing staring at Dean like its next victim-there was no way he could let this go.
Dean came shouldering into the motel room a few seconds later, holding a large, greasy bag in one hand and the keys in the other. He dumped the bag on the table and sank down in a chair with a sigh, rubbing his hands. "What?" he said in response to Sam's look. "It's cold out there."
"You didn't see it?"
Dean looked up, surprised. "See what?"
"There was some kind of spirit watching you out there, Dean. I saw it."
Dean looked confused. "What do you mean, watching me?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Am I not speaking English? It was looking at you, like it wanted to kill you. And when you got out of the car it disappeared."
Dean looked at him oddly. "Uh-Sam-where exactly did you see this thing?"
Sam went to the window and pointed. "Right beside the Impala."
Dean was now looking rather sceptical. "And…if it was so close, why didn't I see it?"
"Well-" Sam stopped. "I don't know. But..."
"Okay, so what kind of spirit was it? What did it look like?"
"I don't really know, it was too far away."
Dean groaned. "Sam, did you really see this thing? Could it have been a trick of the light or something? 'Cause I saw nothing."
"Dean, I know what I saw! It could be waiting for you! You could be in danger!"
"Dude. How much sleep did you get last night?"
"Enough," Sam lied. He had not closed his eyes but he knew what he was seeing. "Dammit-"
"Well, put a salt line around the room then if you're so worried. But nothing is going to happen."
Sam turned away, grabbed the salt shaker and began to do just that, sprinkling a line of salt all around the room-the door and windows had already been done on their arrival, as usual. Scowling, as he knew that Dean was looking at him with that irritating big brother's indulgent smile, he drew the line right around his brother's bed.
"You're really paranoid, y'know," Dean told him, yanking the cap off a bottle of beer. Sam ignored this.
Jessica was staring at him fixedly and brokenly, her beautiful eyes filled with pain and hatred. She advanced across the motel room, her nightgown stained red with a great slice of blood. She drew nearer, nearer, and Sam pressed himself against the wall, terrified.
"Why did you let this happen to me?" she breathed, her voice bubbling with the blood in her mouth that spilled over her lips. "Why weren't you there to save me?"
"Jess, please...I'm sorry..."
"You know how much it hurts when someone cuts your stomach open, Sam?" She was so close he could have reached out and touched her, and the bitterness in her eyes was tearing him apart inside. "It hurts like hell. I was still alive when he pinned me on the ceiling, Sam. I was alive and I was hurting..."
"Jess," Sam whispered. "Please..."
"I was waiting for you. I screamed your name, Sam. But you didn't come. You'd been dreaming about it for weeks but you left me there to die. You abandoned me, Sam!" And she leaned forwards and placed her lips on his and he could taste the blood in her mouth, he was choking on Jessica's blood and struggling but it was like his limbs were frozen, he could not breathe, could not run...
"HEY Sammy wake up!"
"No!" he yelled, struggling wildly as someone grabbed his shoulders. "No-no-"
"Sammy, it's me! Sam!"
"Jess!" he screamed. His eyes were screwed shut, he could still taste the blood. Then he was pinned down, someone forcing him to be still, a voice he recognised sounding in his ears.
"Sam for God's sake wake up! You're safe, it's okay..."
His eyes snapped open, wild and unseeing-then focused on his brother's face peering in at him, worry reflected in his green eyes, and he sagged back with a gasp.
"Dean?" he croaked. Dean sat back with an expression of relief.
"Yeah, it's me, little bro," he replied. "You were having one hell of a nightmare."
"A nightmare?" He sat up, shoving his chestnut bangs out of his eyes. The shadows loomed in but he could see the motel room, devoid of any Jessica alive or dead, just him and Dean and a lot of weapons on the table. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Just a dream, he thought. Just another nightmare.
When was it going to stop?
Dean's eyes were still fixed on his face. "Jessica, right?" he said. "Sammy, we really need to talk about this now."
"There's nothing to talk about," Sam returned. "It's just a nightmare."
A nightmare. But it's true what she said-it was my fault. I left her there and I should've known...oh hell Jess, I'm so sorry...
Dean sat back, looking slightly pacified. "Sam-"
"I gotta get some sleep," Sam said, to avoid the subject. "So should you. We got a hunt for tomorrow..."
Dean looked surprised. "A hunt? We do?"
"Yeah," Sam said determinedly. "We're gonna hunt the spirit that was following you."
Instantly Dean looked angry. "Dammit Sammy-"
"There is no spirit! You just imagined it or something, you hear me? There was nothing there!"
Sam decided that it really wasn't worth having this argument right now, and lay down, closing his eyes, though he had no intention of going back to sleep and letting the nightmares take him again. "'Night, Dean," he said, and heard the creak of bedsprings as his brother returned to his own, salt-surrounded bed. Sam waited a few minutes, then got up, went over to the table and opened Dean's laptop. So maybe it wasn't a real hunt yet-it was still good to get his bearings. And researching would stop him falling asleep again.
So what do you think? Is anyone interested in finding outwhat happens? Please let me know!