Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
The hunt had been a complete success. The ghost had been shot, salted and burned, all in a couple of hours after three day's worth of work. Sam and Dean were on their fourth successful hunt, and Sam had never felt better.
They'd had a trying few weeks. Sam had been locked up in a mental hospital due to his visions of Lucifer. Dean, the dutiful big brother, had gone out and found a person to fix him. The thing was, the person was Castiel.
While Sam knew his brother was furious that Cas was still alive, and wanted nothing more than to rip the angel to shreds with his bare hands for what he had done to Sam by destroying his wall, Sam couldn't find it in his heart to hate Cas as much as Dean did. Yeah, sure, he was seriously pissed, just like he had been with Dean when he had nearly killed him a few months before. But Cas had saved him, taken his insanity into his own mind, at great cost, and now Sam was, well, free. Lucifer wasn't in his head. The fires of Hell and the cage, while they still hurt to remember, didn't burn anymore. He could still remember everything, but now, it was all different. Lucifer wasn't there, torturing him, driving him completely crazy, making him doubt everything from if his shoes were tied the right way to being out of the cage at all. He was free. He had Dean back, and it was just the two of them, on the road again, swatting down ghosts and demons willy nilly. And while Sam knew he shouldn't feel that way, considering someone who had once been virtually a brother before he had gone insane, proclaimed himself God, broke Sam's wall, and unleashed the Leviathans on the world, he was the happiest he'd been in years.
While Dean was seriously pissed about Cas, he was ecstatic that his brother was sane again, and was being a model big brother. The Leviathans, while they knew they were up to something, were miles away, and he and Sam had been doing what it was that they do best: ganking nasties, just like in the old days.
This one had been interesting. A ranch owner had had something killing his cows, and at first, he had assumed that they were nothing more than other farmers. But when other farmers had shown up dead, throats slashed open and insides spilling out, he had started to get worried, and Sam and Dean had picked up on the case.
However, the town they had come to was a small town in the Nevada desert called El Quebrados, and was quite religious. So, that had led Dean and Sam to doing something they hadn't done for years: impersonating priests. As a result, they had gotten in, found out what they were doing, and had ganked the ghost of the farmhand who had loved the owner's daughter, but had been killed by a rival for her affections. As soon as they were back in the car, their choice of the week being a vintage Perennial, Dean was laughing as he took off the dog collar.
"Wooh, that was just like old times huh Sammy?" he asked, running his hand through his combed fringe to give his spikes back again.
Sam looked at him enviously. Dean had insisted that he look the part, and as such he had liberal amounts of gel in his hair, which was now slicked back and to the side. He couldn't get free of his hairstyle until he got back to the motel they were staying at, something that was annoying him a little. He preferred his hair natural, and long about his face, not packed with gel.
"Yeah. And neither of us got so much as a bruise from the ghost, so I call that a pretty good day." He said, taking a newspaper out of the bag and opening it as Dean drove down the desert road.
"Aww Sammy, come on, you can look for a new case tomorrow, we deserve tonight off!" he protested, and Sam grinned.
"Yeah we can. I'm checking the scores from last night, seeing as someone stole a car without a working radio." He teased, and Dean glowered.
"You stole a Ford Anglia, cut me some slack." He grumbled.
"At least it had stereo." Sam said in a sing song voice, and Dean once more glared at him, making him snigger.
"Bite me." He retorted childishly as they approached the town.
The motel was just on the outskirts, in small tepee style huts, and Dean rolled the old car into the parking lot, and immediately shot out of the car, leaving Sam to pick everything up.
"Don't worry, I'll tidy up after you! Slob." He grunted in irritation as he shut the door and entered the room.
And then it occurred to him exactly what Dean had done. To get back at Sam for baiting him in the car, Dean had run into the shower, and was now using all the hot water.
"Dean! Jerk!" Sam yelled angrily, and he could hear Dean laughing on the other side of the door, complete with running water.
"Yeah, I know, but you love me really. You snooze you lose bro!" he taunted, safe as he had locked the door.
Sam vowed to himself that he would get revenge on Dean later. Cursing Dean, he began to change out of his priest costume and into his usual jeans and shirt. It would take ages for the water to heat up again. Not wanting to wait around the room for an hour with a smug and victorious Dean while he waited for the water to warm up again, he decided to go to the garage to get them some food.
"Dean, do you want anything from the shop?" he called, interrupting his brother, who was for reasons best known to himself, singing 'Baby' by Justin Bieber.
"Bring me pie!" came the predictable, ecstatic response, and Sam shook his head in amusement as he headed out.
The place was covered in red sand, but it was a short walk to the garage, over a bridge that was placed over a lagoon. Ignoring the two cars that went past, Sam couldn't wait to get back for a shower. The entire place made him feel grimy and dirty, and his hair was making it worse. Once more cursing his brother, Sam entered the garage shop, and began picking things up for their meal that night. When it came to the aisle where the pies were kept, Sam strongly considered not getting him any, as revenge for stealing the shower. But, he was his brother, and ever since Dillimore, their relationship had never been better, so he consented himself with an apple pie for Dean.
Deciding to browse the shelves for magazines and other food, he didn't look up as a truck pulled up outside, disgorging two men. Sam bent down to pick up some fruit (Dean would call him a wuss but he would just remind his brother who was addicted to banana milkshakes), and was about to stand up when the door opened.
"I'm telling you Roy, that thing wasn't like anything we've ever faced before." A hard, deep voice came, and Sam froze in panic.
Walt and Roy. It had to be. They were two hunters, who, upon learning of he and Dean's roles in starting the Apocalypse, had hunted them down and shot them both in cold blood. They had only been after him, but after Dean had figured out who they were, Walt had killed his big brother just as he had killed him. While the two of them had been resurrected hours later, their journey through heaven was one of their most harrowing yet, and further disintegrated the bond between the two brothers. Sam still got a lump in his throat, when he remembered a hopeless Cas giving the amulet he had given his brother back to Dean, and Dean, hurt by the fact that he hadn't been in any of the memories of Sam's that he had seen, had thrown it away. Gulping, Sam stayed where he was, because if the two hunters who had entered the store realised it was him, he had a feeling nothing would stop them from going for round two, and nowadays, the Winchesters didn't have a come back to life for free card.
"Some of the hunters I've met have been mentioning something older than demons and ghosts. Things before we were made. Leviathans." Roy, the shorter, bearded one said as they approached the counter.
"Where did they come from?" Walt demanded, asking for a packet of cigarettes, while picking up a bottle of whisky that was on special.
Roy glowered at nothing in particular, and Sam waited with baited breath to hear the reply.
"Where else? The damned Winchesters. Their pet angel went mad and let them loose on the world, got himself killed in the process." He snarled, and Sam fought down a wave of anger.
It wasn't their fault that Cas had done what he had done, nor was it truly their fault that the Apocalypse had started. And speaking like that about Cas just wasn't right, no matter what he had done.
Walt slammed his fist into the counter furiously, earning him a telling off from the woman behind the till.
"I told you! As soon as we found out they were alive, we should have hunter those fuckers down and blown their brains out all over again." He growled menacingly, and Sam tensed, wondering what else he would overhear. If they discovered he was there, there was a good chance Walt and Roy would try to finish what they started.
"Yeah, but they stopped the Apocalypse Walt. That took some doing." Roy said slightly defensively, though he didn't sound all that grateful, and Walt snorted derisively.
"Yeah, which they started. We should have hunted them both down, end of story. They were traitors, we should have executed them like the pigs they are. Screw their destiny or whatever they felt it was, we should have shown them that they can't get away with continually screwing the world up. So much for the great Dean Winchester's vengeance! That pussy couldn't find us even if he tried." Walt scoffed, and Sam was now quivering in anger.
The filthy cowards who had killed them had ambushed them when they were still asleep and stripped them both of their weapons, before shooting them in cold blood. And they thought they were the decent ones? And calling his big brother a pussy was beyond the pale. Only Sam got to insult him in such a way.
They thought they were so much better. Sam glanced around the corner of the aisle, to see the bald, unpleasant face of the man who had killed him and his brother. Walt had a lot to answer for.
When they had returned from heaven, Dean had wanted to hunt them down. But, as he had given up hope in saving the world, Sam was left to pick up the slack, and though it was a struggle, he convinced Dean to go with him to try and find another way to save the planet. But it hadn't been a pleasant experience. Both brothers were hurting, and Dean seemed determined to give up and be angry at Sam. While Sam had tried to talk, tried to explain, his brother had been a self righteous prat, acting like he was the only one hurting, and Sam had given up. Besides, he hadn't wanted Dean to hunt down the ones who had killed them. Because, for what they had done, he was sure Dean would have used some of the lessons he learned under Alastair, and he scared his little brother when he got like that.
"Yeah, without their pet angel they're nothing. I heard the old man they hung around with, Bobby, was killed by those Leviathans." Roy said with a sick grin, and Walt roared with laughter.
"Serves the arrogant little gits right. Thinking they're better than the rest of us, just because they could start an Apocalypse? Even if they ended it, the world would be better off without any Winchesters in it at all." He crowed.
Sam's temper was boiling. Laughing at what happened to Bobby was sick. Twisted. He wanted to run down the aisle and kill the two of them. But, he couldn't. For a start, the proprietor would probably notice. Secondly, one might escape.
Either way, he had found his next hunt. Walt and Roy. They thought they were better than the Winchesters? They would see. Sam smiled grimly and hung back.
"So, it was them that set the Levithans loose on the world. Figures. Everything they touch turns to ash. They're cursed. Both of them." Walt said musingly, and there was a pang in Sam's heart, remembering what a drunken Dean had said while trying to kill him. Fighting down the reminder of what had happened in Dillimore, Sam listened back into the two hunters conversation, who were still waiting as the owner brewed them coffee.
"Yeah. And it isn't them who gets to deal with it, is it? It's the rest of the world. They act all high and mighty, and look what happens. Because of them, we get an Apocalypse, we get the Mother of all and we get these bloody Leviathans. These monsters are taking over, and we have to clean up their mess again. These things are dangerous Walt. Seems only right we try to make it right." Roy said, and Sam bristled. He had always assumed that Roy was the weaker of the two, just going along with the more assertive Walt. But here the cowardly, back stabbing little shit was, advocating that the two of them make things right by trying to kill him and his brother.
"I was thinking the exact same thing. Time to go hunting." Walt said, grinning fiercely as he was handed his coffee.
"But...are we sure?" Roy asked nervously, suddenly revealing his true nature, and Sam scoffed under his breath at how cowardly the man was, even when it was his own idea.
"Roy! Look around you! How many times have the Winchesters sent the world to hell because they think they know what they're doing? They're dangerous, hanging round with angels and demons the way they do, and like you said, it's us who has to pick up the slack. And now, they don't have their angel friend to help them. No, this time, when we snuff 'em, we snuff 'em for good. Which is what we should have done in the first place, as soon as we heard the little brat Sam was going dark. Should have hunted them down and killed them both, saved the whole world a lot of grief. We hunt them down, save the world from them before they cause any more damage. Let's go. Sooner we find the Winchesters, the sooner the world's a safer place." Walt said cheerfully, and he and Roy laughed as they walked out of the shop.
Sam growled to himself. They could convince themselves all they wanted that they were doing the right thing, by trying to kill him and Dean. But while they did make messes, they had always cleaned it up. He'd been tortured in the cage for over a year, had thrown himself to the mercy of a pissed off Lucifer and Michael, in order to atone for what he had done. And those sanctimonious bastards thought that they deserved to die? It wasn't their fault the Leviathans got loose, or that they were taking over. Walt and Roy thought they were protecting the world. That was their justification.
Truth was, they were psychos, Walt in particular. Sam put down his basket. He had to get to Dean, warn him that Walt and Roy were gunning for them...and get to them first.
Hunters usually didn't kill one another, not unless they went dark and became random murderers, or were found to be traitors. But this was different. Walt and Roy clearly had not mellowed, and their hatred and jealousy of he and his brother had increased since their last encounter, and now they were just looking for an excuse to go and hunt them. That crossed the line. Walt and Roy had gone dark, and had become murderers, who convinced themselves they were doing the right thing. They weren't. And Sam wouldn't let them hurt Dean. Not now, not now everything was going so well again.
Hunter vs. hunter. It had come to that. Sam sighed wearily, and put down his basket. He had to get to Dean, warn him that those two maniacs were going to try and kill them again.
Sam rushed out into the parking lot, intending to run home to Dean, to warn him. He was just crossing the empty park when a large metal bar slammed into his shoulders. Sam roared in pain and turned, punching upwards, knocking Roy to the floor with a whimper.
"Well if it isn't little Sammy Winchester? Been a while, huh kid? Roy spotted you out of the shop mirror, so we decided to wait. Can't have you running home to big brother now can we? I doubt he'd be happy if his old pals Walt and Roy had decided to off his little brother." Walt said with a sneer, his gun pointing at Sam's chest.
Sam moved. He seized Walt's wrist, forcing the gun into the sky and kicked the other hunter in the stomach. Walt wheezed and Sam wrested the gun from him, but Roy had regained his feet and swung the bar at him again, knocking the gun from his hand. Sam then grabbed the bar and snatched it from Roy's much weaker hand, swinging it hard. Roy groaned in pain as the bar connected with his skull, sending him to the ground. Walt gave a roar and jumped at Sam, punching him in the chin and, catching Sam off balance, sent him crashing to the floor. Sam kicked upwards, hitting Walt where it counted, and he rolled for the gun to draw on the two of them. How could he have been so stupid as to leave his own gun in the room?
Walt staggered back, his ugly face flushed with anger.
"You'll pay for that you arrogant little shit!" he vowed, and dove for the bar, while Roy dragged himself up again.
Sam kicked Roy in the neck, sending the man sprawling onto his back with a wheeze. But, in the time it had taken to immobilise Roy, Walt had seized the bar, and swung it. Being taller than Roy, it worked a lot better. While he mostly missed, it did clip the side of Sam's head, and sent him down to the tarmac. Roy was wheezing and trying to sit up, and Walt was coming round for another attack. Sam kicked Roy in the head, knocking the man out cold, and he made a break for the gun. He had to get back to Dean, warn him. Sam stood up, feeling a trickle of blood from his temple, and made for the gun, lying a few feet away. The parking lot was too open, even if he escaped, if Walt got the gun back, he would be dead before he reached the bridge. And they had a truck. So, he had to minimise his risks. Walt got there before hand, swinging the bar towards Sam's face, and he instinctively raised his hand to block the attack, and he felt his right wrist, so recently broken and repaired, shatter with the impact.
Crying out with pain, Sam staggered backwards, and then slammed his other hand into Walt's chin with a fierce punch, knocking the vicious hunter onto his back in surprise. Sam held his wrist and started for the edge of the tarmac, confident he would be safe long enough to escape, to get to Dean, and warn him.
Walt had recovered quicker than he expected, and had wrapped a piece of rope around his neck. Surprised by the sudden attack, Sam was dragged down to the tarmac, and he felt the rope begin to cut into his airway.
Aww, not again, he thought, as Walt pulled back on the rope.
The rope began to cut into his airway, and Sam raised his good hand to try and pull the rope away from his neck.
"Your brother must be nearby. But you have hurt me and my partner little Sam. You're going to learn what happens. The plan was to just kill you. But now, we're going to have to hurt you first." Walt hissed in his ear.
The rope tightened around his neck, and Sam began kicking his legs, trying valiantly to free himself from Walt's lethal grip. Sam began to feel the blood pumping into his head, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. He tried to hit Walt with his good hand, but the noose on his neck was making the process all too difficult. For a smaller man, Walt was very strong, the rope tied tight around his neck, and Sam was finding it very difficult to get any purchase at all. He clawed at the rope around his neck, his breath wheezing in his ears, but the grip was simply too tight. Trapped with only one decent arm, he was in trouble as he began to see stars.
His legs continued to thrash, and he hoped valiantly for someone to pass, but the place was deserted. The rope was cutting into his precious air supply, blood was pounding through his head as he struggled to release himself from the grip of his attacker. Spots were beginning to appear in his eyes as he struggled against Walt, his good hand and legs thrashing wildly, trying valiantly to gain some purchase, but it was no good, the tarmac was too soft, too new, and he couldn't pry the rope from his neck no matter how much he struggled. Sam was gasping for air, his voice wheezing in the back of his throat as he tried to push Walt away, but he was having no success. His legs were kicking frantically, desperate to free himself to warn his brother of the danger he was in. The rope was burning against his neck as they struggled, and Sam knew he was losing the fight.
Walt twisted the rope further into Sam's neck, and while Sam continued to kick and thrash, his gagging was getting more insistent, gasping for whatever air he could muster, but Walt was overpowering him. Sam's face was turning red, his tongue swelling as a result of the lack of air, and his eyes were going wide in terror and desperation as he gasped desperately, keen for any air that might be able to save him. His body was weakening from the lack of air, and he was thrashing less as the blackness began to mount. Sam was struggling to stay conscious, but it was to no avail. With one last gag, his legs went still. Walt grinned victoriously as Sam passed out, his eyes rolling into his head before closing, and the struggle stopped with a final defeated gag.
Walt contemplated. How easy it would be to finish off the youngest Winchester, here and now. Tighten the rope for a few more minutes, and Sam would never draw another breath. He surveyed the red faced, slick haired youth before him, and decided against it. No. They wanted both brothers. They had Sam. Now they had to get Dean. It wasn't right to kill Sam. Not yet at least.
"Is he dead?" Roy asked weakly as he plodded over, looking around nervously.
"No. Come on, help me get him into the truck. We'll take him to Aldea Malvada. Then, we wait for Dean. Then," he said, snickering slightly, "we kill them both." He said with excitement.
He climbed out from under the taller hunter, and spat down at Sam. His legs were sprawled at awkward angles, his broken wrist jutting painfully, while his other arm was draped away from his body. His face was deep red, and his tongue swollen. Walt and Roy lifted the tall hunter up and dumped his unconscious body into the back of their truck. The two then hobbled to the cabin, and started the engine.
Now all they had to do was wait. And once Dean came, they would kill them both.
Aww poor Sammy! Strangled again, he can never catch a break.
But here we are with a brand new story! This story does serve as a sort of sequel to The Demon Drink, but it can be read alone if you wish. This is only my second Supernatural story but I fear I'm already becoming addicted to writing them. Oh dear.
So, the villainous hunters Walt and Roy are back, and once more out for the Winchester's blood. And of course, poor Dean is soon going to find out his baby brother has been kidnapped, and I can tell you he isnt going to be a happy bunny. Will he save Sam in time, or will Walt and Roy get them both? And what else will happen with those two hunters trying to kill them both for something they had no control over?
I always thought they needed to clear up what happened with Walt and Roy, considering all the damage they caused by killing Sam and Dean, especially to their relationship. Don't worry, past mistakes made by Sam and Dean will be touched on in this story, make no mistake, and a reckoning will be had.
I hope you enjoy this story as much as you seemed to the last one, and I will hopefully update soon, but until then, please review, review, review!
P.S Does anyone know if Season 7 is being released just as the complete version, or will it still be split into two parts?
P.P.S If anyone wants to see what I made Sam look like, ask and I'll send you the link (I think he looks very nice indeed)