S.C Grimm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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scwritesfic2025-06-07 11:08 pm
grimmrow) wrote in scwritesfic2025-06-07 11:08 pm
Fireworks Exploding in my hands - One shot Sam/Dean Implied, Sam/Jo
Title: Fireworks Exploding in my hands
Fandom: Supernatural (Post Season 3)
Genre: Uh, I really don't know. Alternate universe but sorta canon too? XDD
Rating: Hard R
Word count: 9633
Characters: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Ruby 2.0, Dean Winchester, Various OCs
Pairings: Pre-Sam/Dean, Sam/Jo, past Dean/Jo, mild Sam/Ruby 2.0
Tropes: Powers!Sam, Alcoholic!sam, brief Bamf!Jo
Warnings: Character Death (Canon), Het-sex and masturbation? XDD
Summary: Sam understands, he really does, but Dean's death has left him broken
Author's Note: So, I'm addicted to the group Phantogram and reading their lyrics, pretty much had me imagining Sam and Dean things but in general, they have wonderful songs. Very unique, interesting.
Therefore, I recommend you go download their things now. Right now. Go, Go, Go.
Dig a hole
Fireworks exploding in my hands
if I could paint the sky
Would all the stars shine a bloody red?
Dean dies bloody. Chest ribbons of running blood and torn open skin. Sam stays by his side, alone, face wet and heart broken. That insistent, terrible, feeling that all he truly loved is gone and his brother's cat green eyes won't ever have life in them again. He clings to the shredded fabric surrounding Dean's cold body, forehead falling against his crimson chest and from his throat breaks free a sound like a wounded animal as anger finally rises up in the numbness.
It's so fucking unfair.
xxxxxxxxxx
Bobby takes the news with more grace than he did. Eyes wet as he pulls on his dirty old hat with a nod, doesn't really acknowledge it too much. “What's done is done.' Is what he says and that means Bobby won't be helping him with possible resurrections. Sam's on his own.
xxxxxxxxxx
He spends the first two weeks hustling anything and everything he can. Racks up three thousand dollars, between that and what they had before Dean died, he has around seven thousand bucks. He has no real desire to hunt. He doesn't want to, not without his cocky emotionally retarded brother by his side. So, he buys a bottle of scotch, a bottle of brandy and a twenty four case of Budweiser because it's on sale.
All the numbness he feels, goes out the window after he downs the first three shots and chases them with two beers. Within the hour he feels nice, mellow and warm around the edges like the sun through slitted eyelids.
He licks his salty lips lazily and lays back on the scratchy motel comforter as he unzips his jeans, takes out his cock and strokes it from half-hard to rock solid in two minutes. He tries to think of nothing or anyone really vital but then Jess comes to mind. Pretty, perfect Jess, with her a thousand watt smile and supple round breasts with dusky nipples that he used to chew on when they fucked like bunnies.
But when he's close, really close, the image changes to Dean's come hither smirk and bedroom eyes only reserved for women above a seven on the hot scale. He comes with the vision of Dean's legs wrapped around his waist, head thrown back, calling his name.
Sam feels like crying, but instead he throws back six shots and drinks more beer.
xxxxxxxxxx
Alcohol is a wonderful thing. It's beautiful, makes everything go away and come to him all at once. Pain isn't so bad when you're slurring your words and talking to yourself as you laugh in that giddy I couldn't be happier way. He gets drunk all the time now, every chance he gets and before the money runs out, he hustles as much money as he can get before he needs to leave the motel and do it again.
He isn't even sure where he is anymore. South Dakota? Ohio? Arizona? He takes a look through the blinds, head slightly fuzzy and bottle of Sam Adam's in his hand. He takes a swig and looks at the surrounding area.
There's snow on the ground. Might be South Dakota or Ohio. He'd turn on the cable and check out the local weather channel but television just reminds him of Dean, and sometimes when he watches, he has this running commentary in his head. Dean bitching about the shows Sam likes, or giving him a thumbs up approval at him watching something as inane as Dr. Sexy or some random fucked up game show on SpikeTv.
The phone rings and he turns his attention, to the vibrating upgrade he bought himself five days ago. He walks over, looks at the caller I.D and just stares for a moment. He let's it go to voice mail.
Bobby will understand.
Eventually.
xxxxxxxxxx
He's driving down the interstate. He decided to leave Ohio and head for somewhere warmer. Maybe closer to Dean's grave. He doesn't fucking know at this point.
The highway is swimming in front of his eyes, deep yellow lines that blur and white ones that almost spin. He's become a drunk, but he's not stupid enough to drink and drive even though his hand itches to reach in the back seat and take out the bottle of scotch that keeps calling his name.
His mind is a movie reel of Dean, Dean, Dean, all the time, when he's not drunk.
What he could have done. What he could have tried.
What could have happened if he dedicated himself to less hunting and more trying to save his life. He feels like he's a selfish little prick of a brother for being here, alive and whole while Dean rots in hell, going through god knows what.
He bites down on his lip hard enough to dry blood, the numbness he feels is always toward the edge of anger he feels at himself, and Dean.
Why would Dean leave him with this knowledge? This pain? That he could never see him again?
He wants to see Dean's side of things and in a way he does. How Dean must have felt when he died on him and left him with his cold corpse, before he decided to try and resurrect him but Dean should have known to let him stay dead, like he was supposed to be and not leave him here to soul rot because he can't get on without his brother. Just like Dean couldn't get on without him.
He takes a sharp turn as he licks the blood from his lips, nice and coppery, but it reminds him once again that he's alive and Dean's cadaver has become a bloodless thing.
“I can see your lip is all pretty and swollen. Into pain now, Sam?,” comes a low female voice to his left.
He turns his head sharply, nearly going off the road, as he sees a blond sitting in the passenger seat. “Who the hell are you?”
The woman smiles almost cattishly. “Sam, come on. Who else would show up in your shitty old car unannounced?”
Sam's jaw tightens and he looks back on the road. “I don't want anything to do with you, Ruby.”
She sighs. “Okay, so, I didn't get Dean out of the deal but I got the next best thing.”
“if it can't bring Dean back. I don't care,” Sam says firmly.
“You aren't even a little bit curious about what revenge feels like?,” Ruby says almost mockingly.
“Not really,” Sam admits, because as much as he hates Lilith, he knows killing her, won't bring Dean back.
“How about if I told you... I could help you bring Dean back?,” Ruby inquires.
“You're not bullshitting me like last time?,” He hedges, not in the mood to be dicked around.
“Not even a little,” She sing songs.
Sam goes quiet for a few moments, then speaks again. “Who are you even in right now?”
Ruby shrugs. “Just some chick I picked up outside a bar. She wasn't really doing much with her life.”
Sam nearly rolls his eyes. “Get lost and don't come back until you come up with a body that doesn't have a life attached to it.”
Ruby snorts. “Sure thing, Sam.”
He turns to look at her, but she's gone.
xxxxxxxxxx
He's half drunk, knocking back shots with Ruby in her non-blonde meatsuit. He isn't sure if he likes it better than what he was used to or this is preferable but she claims it was a coma patient that was getting ready to be taken off life support, and that's all that matters to him in the end.
“This all you do now? Get drunk off your ass and play Russian Roulette with alcohol poisoning?,” Ruby asks, eyebrow delicately raised as she knocks back a shot and Sam briefly thinks that she's just wasting his alcohol. He should tell her stop but it's been too lonely and he misses doing this with Dean.
“What I do, is really none of your business,” Sam says breezily, knocking back his own.
“You can't get revenge and bring your brother back by becoming a drunk, Sam,” She says with a hint of amusement in her voice.
He huffs out his nose, narrowing his eyes at her. She doesn't understand, she doesn't get it. No one will in the end. “Just drink your fucking shots and leave what I do alone. Long as I'm doing whatever it is you want, I'm sure you'll be happy.” He doesn't trust her, not even an inch.
Ruby looks unperturbed by his coldness. “Well, fine. Let's get down to business.”
“That would be great,” Sam murmurs as he takes the bite out of his last shot with a drink of beer.
“Since Azazel died... you lost your powers because the demon connected to you is gone,” Ruby explains, pretty red painted fingernail swirling around the edge of empty shot glass. “And while I'm not nearly as powerful as old yellow eyes, if you drink enough blood from me, you'll build up a stamina of power and won't even have to use me anymore.”
Sam stops mid-sip, eyes going a little wide. “You want me to...?”
“Drink my blood. Yeah,” She answers, like she just told him it's natural for rabbits to force fuck wolves in the middle of a fairytale forest.
Sam stares at her for a long moment, then bursts out laughing as he runs a hand through his hair, thinking of how Dean would be bitching at him to let him cut some of it off by now. “No, Just no.”
Ruby shrugs, pouring herself another shot. “Up to you, studmuffin but I promise, you'll be an all powerful motherfucker with the pistol of demon law at your side if you do.”
Sam looks at her under lidded eyes. “Powerful enough to resurrect?”
“Maybe, but if that doesn't work, I know some things that might work otherwise,” She says.
Sam has reservations, but he hardly has to think an hour later with his vision hazy and he stumbles into bed. Knife in hand as he slices across her arm and drinks greedily at the copper tang in his mouth, drinking until he can't stomach it.
He makes empty beer bottles dance that night.
xxxxxxxxxx
He doesn't really know why he stops by the roadhouse. Him and Dean had been coming here in the months following up to his death, after it had been rebuilt. Jo and Dean had … well, they became really close and Sam is certain they were fucking. When he called Jo to let her know what went down, she didn't even sound like she was crying. Just told him thanks for telling her and to keep in touch.
Soon as he walks in, Ellen turns her head to look at him and a soft smile pulls at her face. “Sam Winchester. Bout time you graced us with your presence.”
Sam smiles back, alcohol running through his system, but not enough to embarrass him. “Hey Ellen. How you holding up?”
She drags out a mug and pours some beer into it as he takes a seat. She sighs. “Well, same old same old. Nothing really exciting in my life. What about you?”
Sam nods. What should he say? He's been drinking blood from a demon that seems to be his only friend? Yeah, he doubts that will go down well. “Dealing,” is what comes out of his mouth.
“I heard. I'm sorry about Dean. He was a good man,” Ellen murmurs, eyes sympathetic.
Sam nods. “Yeah, he was.”
She slides the mug to him and he takes a tentative drink, almost moans at the taste because the beer he's been drinking, is all on sale to conserve money and it's not his usual which is Blue Ribbon but this is just as good, if not better.
He looks up and Ellen has an odd look on her face. “What?”
“You seem awfully chummy with that beer,” She says, voice suspicious. “Your brother always seemed to have a greater love affair with it than you.”
He takes his mouth off the rim. “Let's just say me and alcohol have become good friends.' He's not really ashamed, not too much anyway.
She nods, looking even more pitying. She looks like she's about to say something else, when Jo comes out of the back room, carrying two hefty bags of something. “Got those peanuts you wanted, mom.”
She stops short and looks from her mom to Sam, then her face crumples and she places the bags on the counter before coming around and sitting beside him. Her hands going on his arm and shoulder in what he supposes is a comforting gesture and kinda strange since she never seemed comfortable around him after Meg meat hopped his body and tortured her.
They just stare at each other for a few seconds, neither know what to say as the sound of the bar patrons go from loud to soft, and then she wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight.
She's warm, gentle against him.
He swallows, eyes burning because it's almost like he didn't realize he needed a hug from someone, someone who cared about Dean as much as he does. He brings a hand over her bright blonde head and pats her gently as she buries her face in his neck and sniffles. “I shouldn't be crying in front of everyone like this.”
Sam sniffs too, his face a little wet. “Don't think they'll care too much.”
He feels tears against his neck and he drops his chin against her head, face screwed up as he tries not to let the water works come. “I'm sorry you lost him,” she says, muffled.
“I'm sorry you lost him too,” Sam says, voice choked.
Jo pulls back, eyes red rimmed as she wipes them off with the back of her arm and wrist. “Thanks but... you were closer to him.”
“Not true, never fucked him,” Sam says bluntly, feeling a moment of irrational jealously.
Jo looks startled, then laughs almost humorously. “We may have been lovers for a little while but we weren't close enough to call it a lay for life or anything.”
Sam nods. Dean never spoke about Jo like he did when he talked about Cassie but if Dean knew his brother, those he truly cared about? In the end, it was all about what he wasn't saying and sleeping with Jo more than once, meant he was feeling something more than in his nether regions.
Jo turns to her mother. “Sorry, mom.”
Ellen just gives a sad smile. “It's okay, baby. You spend some time with Sam. I can hold down the fort for awhile.”
The next thing he knows, he's being dragged to one of the tables with a pitcher of beer and a bottle of rum.
It's the second time he's doing shots with someone in the last couple months and it feels a little more human because while he's getting dimple cheeked and feel good, so is Jo with every shot they take.
They're laughing at the stupidest things. Sam tells her about the time he and Dean went after a nest of pixies because they were taking fingers from children and while that might not seem like a big deal, Dean was gungho because you know, children? They were messing with kids and he wouldn't go for that. The Pixies ended making him go bald and burned off his eyebrows, he wore a snow cap and a pair of sunglasses for a month until it all grew back.
Jo hollers with laughter. “I would have loved to see that. The great Dean Winchester looking like...”
“A cross between John Malkovich and Powder? Yeah, it was something to see,” Sam says, smiling.
Jo snorts. “Oh god, I think I would have even did him then.”
Sam agrees, because he wanted to, more than anything.
Ellen comes up behind them, carrying mugs of beer and a pitcher on a tray. “It's getting late and I need you back on duty here soon, Jo.”
Jo nods, looking slightly lost and a little fuzzy herself. “Right o, mama. Right on it.” She turns to Sam. “You staying tonight?”
“Guess I could,” he says thoughtfully.
“Drink up and I'll get you a room,” She tells him as she stands on her feet, swaying to the side a little and laughs. “I don't think I can serve people like this.”
Sam chuckles. “Drink a little coffee or dunk your head In cold water?”
Jo zings her hand up with her index pointed at the ceiling, and body bowed at a curve as her left leg lifts off the ground. “Sam, you're a freaking genius!”
She leaves him and five minutes later, she comes out of the wash room with her hair dripping wet and a towel around her shoulders. She smiles at him playfully and he laughs so hard, he nearly pisses himself.
xxxxxxxxxx
Later on, after he's finished his eighth beer, and he's trying to focus to follow Jo to his room. He stumbles into the door and leans against it, she slides inside and pulls him In and he doesn't even get a chance to look at where he'll be staying because she pushes his uncoordinated body against the wall, and kisses him soundly, except it's sloppy because he's not sure what's going on and what she's even doing.
He manages to push her away when his brain gets the idea. “Jo. Hold on a sec...”
Jo looks down then, maybe embarrassed, maybe sad and she says “I'm sorry, I just...”
And he gets it. He does. She's lonely, like him. She might have brushed off being with Dean as something not to be too forlorn about but he knows this woman loved his brother Probably more than he loved her. They're the only two people who really understand what it's like to love Dean Winchester and lose him.
He moves forward, with that thought, suddenly a little more sober and takes her face in his hands, kissing her with more grace and tongue than she was likely expecting.
She moves into it, her hands holding onto his shoulders like he's a lifeline and they're tumbling toward the full size bed, until he's laying over top of her, her legs arched up and knees squeezing his sides. He hasn't had sex in months, and even if it's a little sick, Dean was the last to have her and that means something to him.
Just a little.
Jo isn't in the mood for foreplay and neither is he, they don't bother removing their upper clothes, just their pants, shoes and underwear. Getting the condom on is a frantic need as he curses and Jo bats his hands away to roll it on for him.
He sinks into her, hot and wet around him as he groans and she let's out a deep sigh. Hands scrambling for purchase against his back as her pretty pink fingernails dig into his skin. He fucks her hard, deep and fast as he half hopes Ellen doesn't kick him out for diddling her only child.
She comes before him, eyes rolling in the back of her head but is a hell of a trooper as she seems to make it through enough to pay attention and help him reach his climax.
He falls to her side, tying off the condom and throwing it somewhere in the room. His brain too slow to care how nasty that really is at the moment.
He lays there, staring at the ceiling as he catches his breath and then his face screws up and he let's out a sob. He's crying and he can't stop it, his hands come up to his face as he wipes away the tears, chest heaving and body shaking. Jo clings to his side, arm over his waist and squeezing tight as she buries her head against his chest and cries along with him.
They fuck again twenty minutes later and they're still not okay enough to sleep.
xxxxxxxxxxx
The first person Ruby suggests, is a man named Edwin Cane. Someone deep into black magic, something called Old Blood. He travels across three southern states, the Impala a deep rumble underneath his palms and finds the ramshackle house out on the bayou.
The old man greets him almost unkindly, he's dark skinned with a silver afro and he has so many wrinkles it's hard to tell where his cheeks and jaws begin but he let's Sam inside and they talk about resurrection. The man gives him instructions. A full moon, various ingredients that Sam really doesn't want to touch, he needs his own blood and something of his brother's that he was attached to in order to make it happen.
Sam can't help himself however, he asks what if the person went to hell and the old man gives a sad sigh. “Boy, if hell don't want to let him go. He won't come back.”
Sam swallows then and nods. “I'll force them to.”
Edwin chuckles darkly. “Can't force the power of hell to do anything.”
Sam keeps his mouth shut on the subject, thanks him and leaves.
Thirteen days later, he drives to Dean's resting place with the full moon hanging high above , digs up the grave and takes his amulet. He stares at the rotting body, his chest aching and a flare of pain right where his heart should be. He turns away and sits down on the grass. Crushing up the ingredients in a thick glass bowl and then slices his arm to let his blood flow into it. He throws the amulet inside and the bowl lights up like tiny magnificent fireworks but he's too numb to really enjoy the show.
He dumps the contents over Dean's body and he watches as it lights up, the entire corpse sizzling but there's no burn smell.
But then the sparks slow down, burn out and all he sees is Dean, lifeless and still smelling of death.
He sits there for eleven hours, telling himself it takes time to work and when the sun rises, he gives up, covers Dean's body with Earth and goes back to the Impala.
He's too tired too cry anymore.
xxxxxxxxxx
Jo calls. There's a hunt in Missouri. She wants to go and while she's a grown woman, her mom wants her to have more than one person with her. She has someone ready and raring to go, a girl named Virginia Newham and Sam is her prime choice cut of beef, which is what she tells him.
He agrees to tag along.
The hunt has to do with demons, of course, it's always demons. He drinks a little too much blood from Ruby before he goes and feels the coal heart of power course through him. He almost fucks her when she kisses him, riled up and wanting to stick his dick in a warm and willing hole but he's reminded she's a demon, his brother would disapprove and it's enough to wilt his dick.
When he arrives at the roadhouse, Jo jumps him in the middle of the bar. Legs wrapped around his waist and briefly he flashes to Dean in his fantasies before he kisses her forehead and holds her tight. She calls back to Ellen. “Be back in a couple weeks!”
“Better only be a couple weeks. Don't want Chelsey getting overloaded,” Ellen advises.
Jo let's go of him and a woman comes up behind her, taller than Jo. Probably by a few inches. She's gorgeous, someone his brother would hit on in less than a second. Long wavy blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, long bangs hanging by the sides of her face. She's wearing a mid-drift jean jacket with a black halter top underneath and flared boot cut jeans with a belt with a shining silver buckle. She wears a semi flirtatious smile as she looks Sam up and down when Jo steps away.
“You said you were bringing out the big guns, Jojo but you didn't say he'd be good looking,” the woman says lightly, voice southern thick.
Jo rolls her eyes. “Meet Dean,” She says with amusement in her voice. “In lady form.”
Sam cocks an eyebrow.
Truthfully, she has a point, he's getting Dean vibes.
A little too much.
She holds out her hand, it's not really too delicate looking, the nails are cut short and when he takes hold of her hand, she's firm but not rough. A man's handshake. “Virginia but most call me Gina.”
“Sam. Pleasure to meet you, Gina,” he offers, as she holds on for a moment too long and then he drops it. Because those vibes are a little weird and while he might have sex with Jo, going after Lady Dean would be going too far.
Even though she's fucking him with her eyes.
She grins. “Pleasures all mine, sugar.”
Sam nods, and turns to look at Jo, who's leaning against the bar with her stomach and hips jutted out, looking awkward and out of place. He gets the feeling for just a second, that she feels like he'll run off with Gina and while there aren't any romantic declarations between them, he wants to let her know she's the only girl at the moment for him. “Ready to go?”
Jo smiles, it shines. “Been ready since I found out about this hunt.”
xxxxxxx
They're packed into the impala, duffel bags in the back and Virginia sprawled out on the back seat. Jo in the passenger with him, looking over a map.
They travel for hours, listening to Sam's IPOD jacked into the dash, blaring out Florence and the machine, stopping for gas and snacks along the way.
Jo fills him in on the details. There's this holy artifact called the God Hand. It has infinite and omnipresent power. Falling into the wrong hands would be a terrible act on mankind, and there are demons after it. The God Hand is located in a catholic church called Saint Peter's and apparently the cops don't believe the priests and the hunters who have tried going against the demons have died. The few that escaped, told people to stay far away and let it happen. Someone else will come along and take care of it later.
“What makes you so sure we can do it?,” Sam asks, as the track changes and Heartlines comes on.
Jo smiles almost coy. “Because you're a Winchester and I”m a Harvelle. We're not known for losing.”
Sam wants to disagree, because he did lose twice and so did she but he just smiles lopsidedly at the naïve optimism. “Whatever you say...Jojo.”
Jo snorts. “Only Gina is allowed to call me that but mostly because she doesn't understand the word stop.”
“I call you that because you're cute and remind me of Jojos, baby. Something tasty and crispy to chew on,” Gina pipes up from the back.
“Now I'm hungry,” Sam says with a sigh.
“Sure there will be a diner when we stop for the night,” Jo murmurs and in the next moment she goes. “Take this exit.”
So he does.
xxxxxxxxxx
They make it into Missouri nine hours later. The first thing they do is look around for a diner, they find Steve's Fish and Chips. Eat to their hearts content and then get to a motel for the night.
Virginia moves around the motel, half naked as she brushes her teeth and let's down her hair. Sam might have the self-control of Christ but he can't help looking at her semi-thick thighs and wide hips. She catches him looking, grins like a fucking lioness and he has to look away before his dick gets any ideas.
Jo sits at the small table with his laptop open, in her nighttime clothes of plaid pajama shorts and a black shirt that claims she was born in the eighties. “Looks like a local news site is reporting on the deaths of priests at the church.”
Sam undoes his boots finally, unlacing them as he speaks.”Guess that means they're going to make a move for it soon.”
“That's what I figured too,” Jo says absentmindedly as she clicks around.
“I'm going to take a shower. Whatever you find, tell me when I get out,” Sam says as he gets up and sheds his shirt as he goes. Hearing an appreciative wolf whistle from Virginia as he closes the door behind him.
xxxxxxxxxx
They make it to Belton, Missouri a day later.
The very first thing they do, is go into Saint Peter's Church and seek out the head priest.
His name is Francis Miller. He's a young man, dark red hair with almost glowing blue eyes and he looks so tired, at his wit's end about the whole thing.
Sam and Jo sit in two red oak chairs at the front of the desk while Virginia stands at back like a vigil. “Tell us what's been going on,” Sam commands gently.
Father Francis pinches the bridge of his nose. “It started about two months ago. We had people coming into the church, more so than usual and we thought, praise god, praise his mightiness that people were interested in becoming one of his people but... that of course, was a lie we would have liked to believe in.”
The trio say nothing, all sympathetic faces, urging him to go on. “We caught a young woman going into our relics room, and we told her she had to leave but she was crying and nearly sobbing that she had to have the God Hand. I asked her why and she said the devil was going to take her babies if she didn't give it to him. I honestly didn't believe her, because why would they need something that...?” He stops for a moment and sighs. “I believe in God, I truly do but there haven't been too many miracles in this day and age, so I never thought any of our relics would be … well, the real deal.”
He pauses again, and then speaks. “I sent her away and the next morning, her face was plastered on the news, crying like before, only it was much worse. Her two children were children, a boy and girl were murdered in cold blood. She said demons did it and they assumed, that since they couldn't find a culprit, that she was mentally unsound and had her committed for the murders of her children. I … shamefully thought that might be the case as well.”
Sam's stomach churns. “But it wasn't.”
“No, it wasn't. We had more people coming in, trying to take the God Hand. One man got close enough and attempted to lift off the glass from around it but he was driven back by a force that knocked him into a wall. More people came and it hasn't stopped. We thought about closing the church doors because of it but then... the demons themselves started showing up.”
“Have they been killing those of your priesthood recently?,” Jo interjects.
“Yes, they have infact. We know they're warnings, hand it over or we slaughter your family. Anything like that, must come from the devil himself,” Francis murmurs, taking a sip of water from the glass to his left.
“I agree,” Sam says, hoping it comforts him. “Have you seen any of these demons?”
He nods. “Yes, I have. Sometimes they stand outside the church, looking in. That tells me that can't cross but one actually can...”
Sam narrows his eyes, thinking of Lilith. “Do they have white eyes?”
Francis shakes his head. “No, they're yellow and it's a she.”
Sam goes numb, it couldn't be Azazel. The bastard is long since dead and can no longer hijack bodies. It's impossible. “What happened?”
“Hmm... same thing as the man, almost, but she was able to lift the glass and shatter it. She had her hands on it but it burned her and she fled. We couldn't get anywhere near her, and that was the end of it,” Francis explains.
Sam and Jo exchange a brief look. Then Sam says. “Do you have, maybe, any references to what the God Hand is?”
“It's supposed to be a piece of God's active force, just a fraction. The hand of God, you know? Anyone who can possess it, will be granted immense power. The ability to do whatever they want but with good intentions. Otherwise, it will reject you,” Francis tells him, with a slight frown. “But I could get you one of our guide books.”
“You get that and we'll discuss what we can do,” Sam says with a soft smile.
“Thank you, I'll be right back,” Francis says as he gets up and walks out of the room.
“Okay, so … I'm thinking they can't actually get a hold of the God Hand. It's useless to them,” Jo speaks first.
Sam tilts his head thoughtfully. “If that were the case, they wouldn't be trying to get it.”
“The tall man has a point. All this trouble for something that doesn't benefit them, wouldn't make much sense,” Gina says, leaning over the back of Jo's chair.
“Mmm..,” Jo says trailing off. “What can we do about the demons?”
Sam has tactics already in mind, not something either of the two hunters will approve of but he has a feeling it might work. “I'll drive them out.”
“And how do you plan to do that, Mr. Winchester?,” Virginia asks, blonde brow cocked.
“Just trust me,” Sam says, pointedly not looking at either of them.
The priest comes back in a few moments later, a printed paper with everything about the God Hand legend on it.
They all read it over quietly. Same things they've heard so far, but apparently it has the same power as an archangel. Which Sam guesses means, someone with good intent, even if those intentions would be bad to others, would still respond to that person. It's belief and faith that drives it more so than being all pure in the eyes of God.
“We're going to check out the city, Father Francis,” Sam says after he finishes. “Virginia will stay here with you and keep everything well oiled,” Sam says as he stands.
“Why do I have to stay?,” Virginia says, looking a little put out.
Sam shrugs. “Because I'm comfortable with Jo and I've been hunting for years to know what to look for.”
Virginia doesn't look convinced but she shrugs. “Fine by me.”
xxxxxxxxxx
They can't find the demons anywhere. Jo keeps looking at him strangely because he's going by his gut instinct, his ability to sense demons without having to see shy black eyes or smell the stink of sulfur. He thinks he gets a hint of one, but it as soon disappears when he feels it.
When they're driving back to the church, Sam gets a sudden idea. “What if...,” he trails off.
“Yeah?”,” Jo asks, yawning as she leans against the passenger window.
“What if you or Virginia could use it? Take it somewhere and hide it?,” Sam suggests.
“Hm... I didn't even think of that,” Jo says, voice slightly awed. “We should see if the priest allows it first though.”
“That's what I thought of too but mostly if one of you can take it, it might not be found for awhile again,” Sam explains, turning down the street.
“Why can't you?,” Jo questions, giving him a side long glance.
“Because I'm not as good or pure as my intentions appear sometimes,” He answers, getting as close to the truth as he's comfortable with.
Jo gives him a puzzled look and nods. “Okay, then I'm sure Gina and I both have no problem giving it a go.”
As Sam pulls into the parking lot beside the church, there's a bunch of men and women loitering around outside and his senses tingle, on edge. He stops the car and glances over at Jo. “Demons in front of the church.”
Jo turns her eyes toward him and nods. “Think there will be a fight?”
Sam purses his lips. “I don't know.”
He gets out and she follows, they take shotguns from the trunk and move to the front of the buildings. All the demons eyes snap to them at once and one with long stringy blonde hair sneers, almost in bemusement. “Sam Winchester.”
Sam moves up the stairs backwards, making sure Jo stays behind him, both of them have their guns aimed and Sam doesn't say anything. He knows what he could do to the seven or eight standing out here, wouldn't even get a nose bleed but he doesn't want to reveal that yet.
Jo still trusts him and she's kinda his anchor to feeling alright In this world.
The demon takes a few steps forward. “Not going to show us your prowess? Been hearing so many great things about you.”
Sam cocked his head up, his face pinched and tight with underlined rage. Hoping he conveys for the demon to take the hint. He turns to Jo. “Go.”
Jo turns and runs up the stairs, running through the doors and Sam follows suit.
“My boss is in there, better watch yourself,” the demon calls out, followed by a chorus of chuckles.
Sam turns into the church, the air smells of sulfur and there's a scream echoing against the walls, bouncing off the lit white leaking candles at the alter and Jo stands up front, still as the night. Sam walks up beside her and sees one of the priests has his throat and chest torn open, laying on the ground with thick red blood, a pool, surrounding him.
“Gina...,” Jo whispers.
Sam doesn't even answer, he makes a run for the relic room.
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Thirty seconds later, he finds himself at the entrance of the room and he can hear whimpering. He looks around the corner, eyes grazing over items in glass cases, mounted on walls and armor on display. But what catches his attention more than anything is Father Francis crumpled in a corner, staring up at some woman with pin straight blonde hair, in a black sweater jacket and blue jeans, holding up Virginia by her throat against a wall as the girl kicks and struggles. The demon has a hand on the girl's chest like a viced claw, dipples of red leaking from the wound.
“You hearing me, Franny Poo? I'll let her go if you tell me where the God Hand is,” the demon says in a sweet, patronizing voice. “Don't you want to save the life of some poor innocent hunter?”
“I told you, I don't know,” Francis says, voice trembling.
“Filthy...demon...bitch,” Gina utters, voice choked but loud enough in that I'm stubborn and won't take it standing down even when I'm outnumbered.' kinda tone.
The demon laughs. “Names Leraie, sweetie but bitch is quite a title to have.”
Sam's heard enough, he moves inside, cocking the shotgun as he speaks. “Drop her and I won't kill you.”
Leraie's head snaps around, she narrows her eyes at him but still holds onto Virginia tight. “Oh, you,” she says almost too softly with an edge. “That gun won't do much of anything but if you put your little ol' heart into it... you might be able to scratch me some.”
Sam snorts, his tolerance for demons besides Ruby these days, is pretty low. “You're right, don't need the gun.” He tosses it to the side, making a note where it lands later.
She drops Virginia then with a thud as the woman yelps out painfully. Leraie turns to him and walks toward him with ease. She's arrogant, that much he can tell and her eyes are a sickening yellow like Azazel's. His mouth goes dry because she's not even a little stricken by his presence, She rounds her shoulders, amused, cocky smile on her face. “What you gonna do? Exorcise me?”
“Wow, for a General, you're pretty childish,” Sam says ruefully with a huff.
She smiles, it reminds him of a child. “Call it what you will. I just want to know where the God Hand is.”
Sam shrugs. “You can't use it, so what's the point of finding it?”
Leraie purses her lips. “That's about to change soon.”
Sam cocks his head, wondering what she means.
The next thing he knows, he's flung back into the other room, sliding across the floor, so hard, that if he were on Earthy ground, he would have torn up a plot for someone to be buried in. His back aches as he gasps in a breath from the force, and he looks up as Leraie approaches him, she's got the determination and grace of a snake on a mission.
Sam's hand shoots out, fingers curling in as his face goes into concentrate mood, scrunched up and she actually stops for a moment, going rigid as she stares at him. He releases his inward fingers and frees them upward as she flies through the air, hitting into a wall with a groan.
He scrambles to his feet and hears footsteps approaching, as he stalks over to her, but she's getting up quickly, shaking out her hair like she's getting rid of invisible dust. “No wonder Azazel liked you so much, Sammy. You have real potential.”
Sam curls his fingers in again, twists his hand to the side like he's been taught and Leraie is slammed up against the wall, Head thrown back but she doesn't look scared. She tsks. “You can't exorcise me. You're no where near powerful enough for that.”
Sam wishes he had slaughtered a few of the demons outside to prove her wrong. “Doesn't matter, you're not getting the God Hand.”
“Sam?,” Jo's voice perks up from his left, but he can't turn to look at her. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Go help Father Francis and Gina,” Sam dismisses.
“Okay,” Jo says, her voice not betraying what she thinks of what she's currently seeing.
Leraie chuckles softly. “Your friends don't know, huh?”
Sam chooses to ignore her, as he keeps her in place but he's starting to feel the affects, his body is shaking and his nose feels sore like a blood vessel is about to burst.
“You're a sad demon blooded little man,” Leraie mocks. “Did Ruby tell you that you'd end up saving Dean or get revenge?”
Sam half lids his eyes in suspicion.
“She did, didn't she?,” Leraie says with an almost disinterested sigh.
“Is she lying?” Sam answers her, as he glances over to see Jo and Virginia helping Father Francis from the room.
He looks back at her and she smiles almost sweetly.”Ruby doesn't care about you getting revenge or getting Dean back, Sammy. Not even a little bit... sure, someday with enough blood running through your veins and your power perfected, you could very well raise your brother but her goal is much more selfish,much more intune with hell's needs.”
Sam feels blood trickle down his nose, his temples are starting to ache and there's a sharp pain in the center of his head. “What do you mean?,” he asks, but voice sounds slightly weak to his ears.
“It's all about Lucifer, darling. Our father, the fallen. Lilith herself is a seal, and if you kill her, then you'll unleash him from his cage,” Leraie explains, voice bored as well as her expression.
“And why would Ruby want that?,” Sam asks, again, wetness gushing from his nose.
“Because it's what many demons want, not all, but many. Father rises and we get a world we can control through him, yadda yadda yadda, beauty all around of the demon kind, no humans, all very interesting but mostly it bores the shit out of me and I don't care. I want something more than what Lucifer has planned,” Leraie says with a sigh.
Sam's losing hold, his vision is starting to see two of the blonde. Distantly, he's disappointed in Ruby, if what she says is true but right now he's on a case and … “A-a-and wh-wh-what do-do-,” he begins but his voice shakes so bad, his hand loses it's hold and he crumples to the ground, knees hitting the marble floor painfully as he licks blood from his mouth. Entire body flaring in on him like a ticking time bomb.
Leraie giggles. “Told you, you don't have enough juice for me.” She reachs down and pulls him up by his neck, he sways, staring at her, feeling drained and she wipes a finger through the mess along his mouth and licks the blood from her appendage. “You taste …. tainted but sweet. Not too bad really.”
Sam doesn't have the voice to say anything. If she plans on killing him, just get it over with. He's not surprised when she turns the tables, slamming him up against the wall, head tilted and smiling like the devil himself. “You'd be such an asset if you weren't dead set on being a white hat.”
Sam closes his eyes and the next thing he knows, he's falling to the floor and Leraie is howling deep and gruntled. He turns his head, upward to see Jo with her hand pushed outward, and covering it is a white, almost sheer sleeve and golden talons like a hawk's curving over her hand.
There's a white light emitting from it and she has such a look of concentration on her face, that he briefly thinks of her as beautiful and he's always known she is, but something about the way she approaches their enemy, with the too good of heart she wears on his sleeve, peeking out for all to see makes him realize it in such a breath taking way or it could be that he's in a half hearted daze but still, she is.
“Oh great, Hunter Barbie to the rescue,” Leraie smarts. “You wouldn't happen to want to work for the bad guys would you?”
“Not in this lifetime or another,” Jo says with conviction.
Sam is blinded by a bright light filling the room.
He passes out somewhere between the screaming and begging.
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There's a thousand tiny needles pounding into his skull, his mouth is dry and he has to take a piss. He crawls from the bed, staggering to the bathroom and relieves himself. He comes back out to see Jo sitting at the table, with the God Hand beside the laptop and Virginia laid out on her and Jo's bed.
Grabbing the bottle of scotch from his duffel, he sits across from Jo, opens up and takes a swig. “Last thing I remember is you showing up with that thing,” he says, eyes glancing at the talon claw.
Jo looks over at him briefly, then returns to typing. “I kinda went nuts on the YED and almost killed her, but she escaped. Apparently it accepts me, but I have no clue how to go about harnessing it's powers.”
Sam nods, taking another long drink. “Now we hide it.”
“Yeah, but how you figure we do that?,” Jo asks, voice tilted.
“Call in a favor from Bobby,” Sam says.
“You sure he'd be willing to do that for us?,” Jo asks, eyebrow quirked.
“Yeah, yeah, he will. I can bank on it,” Sam answers her.
She nods.
He drinks another few minutes and she goes. “You ever giving up the hooch?”
Sam stills for a moment, much as she knows he does this, she's never really called him on it. “Someday.”
Jo clicks around for a few, then shuts down and closes the lid. She leans forward, looking him straight in the eye. “I'm pretty much over him, Sam. He's gone, and I'm okay now.”
Sam feels his heart break suddenly, there's going to be a loss and it's going to hurt. He just takes a drink and tries not to look at her.
“You helped with that because if you hadn't come along, then I would have never grieved proper and I'd still be a hot mess on the inside,” She says a bit more softly.
“You're welcome?,” Sam hedges, looking down at the table.
“Yeah, thank you,” Jo says with a small smile. “But you're not over it and I don't think you'll ever truly be, not unless you have him by your side again. Being brothers, that whole family business thing you got going on.”
Sam shakes his head. “You're right, Jo.” More than you know, he doesn't add.
“I know I am, Sam,” she whispers. “And I've been researching about archangels and their power because let me tell you, whew, the stuff that was coursing through me. I could have gotten addicted to having it, to feel invincible and immortal.”
Sam nods.
“I think you should keep the God Hand with you,” Jo suggests.
Sam looks up, slightly bewildered. “Why?”
“Because what I found out is... archangels have the ability to resurrect anyone they want to, unlike demons, they don't need a deal and if this weapon has that kind of power, then it should belong to you,” Jo explains gently.
Sam reels for a moment, he hadn't even considered anything like that. “Jo... that's...great but it would reject me.”
Jo bites her bottom lip, there's a knowing look in her amber brown eyes. “It might right now, but if you get out of whatever you're doing, then it could see you as worthy.”
Sam stares at the bottle in his hand, puts it on the table and has a mental battle, telling the alcohol he doesn't need it.
It'll be the first of many before he finally gives it up.
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Bobby takes the God Hand and keeps it in the panic room.
Only Jo, and Sam know the location.
Ruby finds him a week later, after he avoids her. She shows up at his motel, when he answers, her eyes are big brown and puppy dog like, like he's kicked her without warning and well, he pretty much did.
“You don't write, you don't call. What kinda bullshit is that?,” She says as she pushes past him into the room.
He turns to look at her, the blood in her veins sings to him and he's been getting cravings for it, but it's not worth going dark side if there's something else that could give him what he wants. “I met Leraie.”
Ruby turns around, face carefully blank. “Leraie?”
“Yellow eyed demon. Going against the major 'Raise Lucifer from the cage' plan?,” Sam says, face hardening.
Ruby sighs. “She told you, huh?”
“Yeah, she did,” Sam admits, standing there awkwardly, but no less grounded.
“Could have been something good, Sam,” She says almost sadly, hand on her hip as she looks around the room.
“I doubt it,” Sam says, meaning it.
She looks at him a bit sharply and goes. “You'll start jonsing for a hit soon. One more week and you'll be going through withdraw.”
“I can handle it,” Sam says a bit firmly.
Ruby nods, lips tight. “Get somewhere safe, stay with a friend. Don't be alone.”
“Okay,” he answers. He just wants her out of his room and his life.
“It gets pretty bad,” She says softly.
“I'm not drinking from you anymore,” Sam says with thinnly veiled disgust.
“I know,” She says with a shrug. She walks past him a little, stops and reaches up to kiss underneath his chin. “It's just so you know, that way you're not all strung out and shitting yourself when it happens.”
He nods, skin crawling from her mouth on his skin. The irony that his own lips settled on her stolen flesh not long ago.
“Take care, Sam,” She says In a gentle voice, almost melancholy as she leaves the room.
It sounds like she cares, he almost believes it.
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Two days before it really hit him hard, really hard. He was starting to shake so bad, he could barely drive and had to stop on the side of the room and wait until the tremors passed.
It's a sickness inside him, he wants to taste the poison blood of a hell beast and bath in it until he's soaked from head to toe.
Bobby had to come get him two hours from Sioux Falls, towed the Impala back to the salvage yard as Sam broke out in a cold sweat and talked gibberish in the passenger seat.
Bobby claimed he was speaking in tongues later.
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He doesn't remember reality in detox.
Just flashes of things that can't be real.
Dean on a dirty table without cloth or comfort.
Naked, bruised, slashed open and bleeding.
Dean and Sam naked, curled up in bed together, whispering.
Dean slicing into people with glee.
Dean and Sam holding hands across a diner table.
Dean screaming, begging for release.
Dean's eyes full of love and trust, beyond the broken and dead look in his gazes.
Dean crying for him.
Dean sleeping in bed all day and never leaving his room.
Dean sobbing that they leave Sam out of it.
Dean breaking some guy's nose in irrational anger and shoving a beer bottle through his eye socket.
Dean apologizing after raping a tortured soul, gagging until his throat is raw and torn.
Dean hating himself so much, he tries to take his own life.
Someone laughing in the dark, talking about what a good soldier he is.
Too many voices all at once, mocking Dean with every bad thing that ever happened to him in life.
And then when he finally came back to reality.
He heard someone whisper near his ear 'It's yours.'
A light filled the room and he stumbled from the bed, eyed tired as the God hand shone on the desk.
He reached out and touched it, it vibrated against his finger tips, warm to the touch like a mother's comforting hug. He picked it up, held it to his chest as he took a deep breath and whispered. “Thank you.” Hazel fox eyes raised toward the ceiling.
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As much as he wants to taste the salty and bitter alcohol on his tongue, he doesn't drink a drop the night he digs up Dean's grave for the fifth time. His body is so far decomposed now, he can see his bones and it makes him sick to his stomach.
His handsome, irritatingly beautiful brother, is a mere shadow of his former self.
He hops down in the grave, doesn't have a clue to what he's doing and sends a quick prayer above as he places the God Hand over his left hand.
It glows softly, then a fire ignites from at the tips of the talons, it's red and white with a hint if gold, it flares like phoenix feathers and instinctively he knows to move it from head to toe, seven times.
On the seventh time, Dean's body bursts into flames and his stomach coils, praying, hoping he just did the right thing.
He climbs out of the grave, watching as the body burns down to ash and stares in horror that his brother is nothing now.
He chokes on a sob, disbelieving and then the red light comes back and it's so bright, he has to cover his eyes.
When the edges of scarlet aren't peeking from underneath his hand, he hears a bloody scream, someone in pain and he knows instantly, it's Dean.
He looks down and Dean is curling in on himself, naked, whimpering and making these terrible, sad sounds like a dying animal.
He doesn't question it, doesn't even consider to as he climbs down in the grave and gets his knees underneath Dean's head, and Dean sniffs the air, looks up with wild eyes in the moonlight.
He pulls himself up right and presses his face into Sam's chest as he clings to his shirt with his hands, so tight and Sam can feel him shaking. “Sammy,” Dean whimpers, voice low and scratchy.
Sam just wraps his arms around him, talon hand settled against new flesh and he whispers. “I missed you, Dean.”
Dean just whimpers again, clings tighter and Sam knows Dean missed him too.
Fandom: Supernatural (Post Season 3)
Genre: Uh, I really don't know. Alternate universe but sorta canon too? XDD
Rating: Hard R
Word count: 9633
Characters: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Ruby 2.0, Dean Winchester, Various OCs
Pairings: Pre-Sam/Dean, Sam/Jo, past Dean/Jo, mild Sam/Ruby 2.0
Tropes: Powers!Sam, Alcoholic!sam, brief Bamf!Jo
Warnings: Character Death (Canon), Het-sex and masturbation? XDD
Summary: Sam understands, he really does, but Dean's death has left him broken
Author's Note: So, I'm addicted to the group Phantogram and reading their lyrics, pretty much had me imagining Sam and Dean things but in general, they have wonderful songs. Very unique, interesting.
Therefore, I recommend you go download their things now. Right now. Go, Go, Go.
Dig a hole
Fireworks exploding in my hands
if I could paint the sky
Would all the stars shine a bloody red?
Dean dies bloody. Chest ribbons of running blood and torn open skin. Sam stays by his side, alone, face wet and heart broken. That insistent, terrible, feeling that all he truly loved is gone and his brother's cat green eyes won't ever have life in them again. He clings to the shredded fabric surrounding Dean's cold body, forehead falling against his crimson chest and from his throat breaks free a sound like a wounded animal as anger finally rises up in the numbness.
It's so fucking unfair.
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Bobby takes the news with more grace than he did. Eyes wet as he pulls on his dirty old hat with a nod, doesn't really acknowledge it too much. “What's done is done.' Is what he says and that means Bobby won't be helping him with possible resurrections. Sam's on his own.
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He spends the first two weeks hustling anything and everything he can. Racks up three thousand dollars, between that and what they had before Dean died, he has around seven thousand bucks. He has no real desire to hunt. He doesn't want to, not without his cocky emotionally retarded brother by his side. So, he buys a bottle of scotch, a bottle of brandy and a twenty four case of Budweiser because it's on sale.
All the numbness he feels, goes out the window after he downs the first three shots and chases them with two beers. Within the hour he feels nice, mellow and warm around the edges like the sun through slitted eyelids.
He licks his salty lips lazily and lays back on the scratchy motel comforter as he unzips his jeans, takes out his cock and strokes it from half-hard to rock solid in two minutes. He tries to think of nothing or anyone really vital but then Jess comes to mind. Pretty, perfect Jess, with her a thousand watt smile and supple round breasts with dusky nipples that he used to chew on when they fucked like bunnies.
But when he's close, really close, the image changes to Dean's come hither smirk and bedroom eyes only reserved for women above a seven on the hot scale. He comes with the vision of Dean's legs wrapped around his waist, head thrown back, calling his name.
Sam feels like crying, but instead he throws back six shots and drinks more beer.
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Alcohol is a wonderful thing. It's beautiful, makes everything go away and come to him all at once. Pain isn't so bad when you're slurring your words and talking to yourself as you laugh in that giddy I couldn't be happier way. He gets drunk all the time now, every chance he gets and before the money runs out, he hustles as much money as he can get before he needs to leave the motel and do it again.
He isn't even sure where he is anymore. South Dakota? Ohio? Arizona? He takes a look through the blinds, head slightly fuzzy and bottle of Sam Adam's in his hand. He takes a swig and looks at the surrounding area.
There's snow on the ground. Might be South Dakota or Ohio. He'd turn on the cable and check out the local weather channel but television just reminds him of Dean, and sometimes when he watches, he has this running commentary in his head. Dean bitching about the shows Sam likes, or giving him a thumbs up approval at him watching something as inane as Dr. Sexy or some random fucked up game show on SpikeTv.
The phone rings and he turns his attention, to the vibrating upgrade he bought himself five days ago. He walks over, looks at the caller I.D and just stares for a moment. He let's it go to voice mail.
Bobby will understand.
Eventually.
xxxxxxxxxx
He's driving down the interstate. He decided to leave Ohio and head for somewhere warmer. Maybe closer to Dean's grave. He doesn't fucking know at this point.
The highway is swimming in front of his eyes, deep yellow lines that blur and white ones that almost spin. He's become a drunk, but he's not stupid enough to drink and drive even though his hand itches to reach in the back seat and take out the bottle of scotch that keeps calling his name.
His mind is a movie reel of Dean, Dean, Dean, all the time, when he's not drunk.
What he could have done. What he could have tried.
What could have happened if he dedicated himself to less hunting and more trying to save his life. He feels like he's a selfish little prick of a brother for being here, alive and whole while Dean rots in hell, going through god knows what.
He bites down on his lip hard enough to dry blood, the numbness he feels is always toward the edge of anger he feels at himself, and Dean.
Why would Dean leave him with this knowledge? This pain? That he could never see him again?
He wants to see Dean's side of things and in a way he does. How Dean must have felt when he died on him and left him with his cold corpse, before he decided to try and resurrect him but Dean should have known to let him stay dead, like he was supposed to be and not leave him here to soul rot because he can't get on without his brother. Just like Dean couldn't get on without him.
He takes a sharp turn as he licks the blood from his lips, nice and coppery, but it reminds him once again that he's alive and Dean's cadaver has become a bloodless thing.
“I can see your lip is all pretty and swollen. Into pain now, Sam?,” comes a low female voice to his left.
He turns his head sharply, nearly going off the road, as he sees a blond sitting in the passenger seat. “Who the hell are you?”
The woman smiles almost cattishly. “Sam, come on. Who else would show up in your shitty old car unannounced?”
Sam's jaw tightens and he looks back on the road. “I don't want anything to do with you, Ruby.”
She sighs. “Okay, so, I didn't get Dean out of the deal but I got the next best thing.”
“if it can't bring Dean back. I don't care,” Sam says firmly.
“You aren't even a little bit curious about what revenge feels like?,” Ruby says almost mockingly.
“Not really,” Sam admits, because as much as he hates Lilith, he knows killing her, won't bring Dean back.
“How about if I told you... I could help you bring Dean back?,” Ruby inquires.
“You're not bullshitting me like last time?,” He hedges, not in the mood to be dicked around.
“Not even a little,” She sing songs.
Sam goes quiet for a few moments, then speaks again. “Who are you even in right now?”
Ruby shrugs. “Just some chick I picked up outside a bar. She wasn't really doing much with her life.”
Sam nearly rolls his eyes. “Get lost and don't come back until you come up with a body that doesn't have a life attached to it.”
Ruby snorts. “Sure thing, Sam.”
He turns to look at her, but she's gone.
xxxxxxxxxx
He's half drunk, knocking back shots with Ruby in her non-blonde meatsuit. He isn't sure if he likes it better than what he was used to or this is preferable but she claims it was a coma patient that was getting ready to be taken off life support, and that's all that matters to him in the end.
“This all you do now? Get drunk off your ass and play Russian Roulette with alcohol poisoning?,” Ruby asks, eyebrow delicately raised as she knocks back a shot and Sam briefly thinks that she's just wasting his alcohol. He should tell her stop but it's been too lonely and he misses doing this with Dean.
“What I do, is really none of your business,” Sam says breezily, knocking back his own.
“You can't get revenge and bring your brother back by becoming a drunk, Sam,” She says with a hint of amusement in her voice.
He huffs out his nose, narrowing his eyes at her. She doesn't understand, she doesn't get it. No one will in the end. “Just drink your fucking shots and leave what I do alone. Long as I'm doing whatever it is you want, I'm sure you'll be happy.” He doesn't trust her, not even an inch.
Ruby looks unperturbed by his coldness. “Well, fine. Let's get down to business.”
“That would be great,” Sam murmurs as he takes the bite out of his last shot with a drink of beer.
“Since Azazel died... you lost your powers because the demon connected to you is gone,” Ruby explains, pretty red painted fingernail swirling around the edge of empty shot glass. “And while I'm not nearly as powerful as old yellow eyes, if you drink enough blood from me, you'll build up a stamina of power and won't even have to use me anymore.”
Sam stops mid-sip, eyes going a little wide. “You want me to...?”
“Drink my blood. Yeah,” She answers, like she just told him it's natural for rabbits to force fuck wolves in the middle of a fairytale forest.
Sam stares at her for a long moment, then bursts out laughing as he runs a hand through his hair, thinking of how Dean would be bitching at him to let him cut some of it off by now. “No, Just no.”
Ruby shrugs, pouring herself another shot. “Up to you, studmuffin but I promise, you'll be an all powerful motherfucker with the pistol of demon law at your side if you do.”
Sam looks at her under lidded eyes. “Powerful enough to resurrect?”
“Maybe, but if that doesn't work, I know some things that might work otherwise,” She says.
Sam has reservations, but he hardly has to think an hour later with his vision hazy and he stumbles into bed. Knife in hand as he slices across her arm and drinks greedily at the copper tang in his mouth, drinking until he can't stomach it.
He makes empty beer bottles dance that night.
xxxxxxxxxx
He doesn't really know why he stops by the roadhouse. Him and Dean had been coming here in the months following up to his death, after it had been rebuilt. Jo and Dean had … well, they became really close and Sam is certain they were fucking. When he called Jo to let her know what went down, she didn't even sound like she was crying. Just told him thanks for telling her and to keep in touch.
Soon as he walks in, Ellen turns her head to look at him and a soft smile pulls at her face. “Sam Winchester. Bout time you graced us with your presence.”
Sam smiles back, alcohol running through his system, but not enough to embarrass him. “Hey Ellen. How you holding up?”
She drags out a mug and pours some beer into it as he takes a seat. She sighs. “Well, same old same old. Nothing really exciting in my life. What about you?”
Sam nods. What should he say? He's been drinking blood from a demon that seems to be his only friend? Yeah, he doubts that will go down well. “Dealing,” is what comes out of his mouth.
“I heard. I'm sorry about Dean. He was a good man,” Ellen murmurs, eyes sympathetic.
Sam nods. “Yeah, he was.”
She slides the mug to him and he takes a tentative drink, almost moans at the taste because the beer he's been drinking, is all on sale to conserve money and it's not his usual which is Blue Ribbon but this is just as good, if not better.
He looks up and Ellen has an odd look on her face. “What?”
“You seem awfully chummy with that beer,” She says, voice suspicious. “Your brother always seemed to have a greater love affair with it than you.”
He takes his mouth off the rim. “Let's just say me and alcohol have become good friends.' He's not really ashamed, not too much anyway.
She nods, looking even more pitying. She looks like she's about to say something else, when Jo comes out of the back room, carrying two hefty bags of something. “Got those peanuts you wanted, mom.”
She stops short and looks from her mom to Sam, then her face crumples and she places the bags on the counter before coming around and sitting beside him. Her hands going on his arm and shoulder in what he supposes is a comforting gesture and kinda strange since she never seemed comfortable around him after Meg meat hopped his body and tortured her.
They just stare at each other for a few seconds, neither know what to say as the sound of the bar patrons go from loud to soft, and then she wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight.
She's warm, gentle against him.
He swallows, eyes burning because it's almost like he didn't realize he needed a hug from someone, someone who cared about Dean as much as he does. He brings a hand over her bright blonde head and pats her gently as she buries her face in his neck and sniffles. “I shouldn't be crying in front of everyone like this.”
Sam sniffs too, his face a little wet. “Don't think they'll care too much.”
He feels tears against his neck and he drops his chin against her head, face screwed up as he tries not to let the water works come. “I'm sorry you lost him,” she says, muffled.
“I'm sorry you lost him too,” Sam says, voice choked.
Jo pulls back, eyes red rimmed as she wipes them off with the back of her arm and wrist. “Thanks but... you were closer to him.”
“Not true, never fucked him,” Sam says bluntly, feeling a moment of irrational jealously.
Jo looks startled, then laughs almost humorously. “We may have been lovers for a little while but we weren't close enough to call it a lay for life or anything.”
Sam nods. Dean never spoke about Jo like he did when he talked about Cassie but if Dean knew his brother, those he truly cared about? In the end, it was all about what he wasn't saying and sleeping with Jo more than once, meant he was feeling something more than in his nether regions.
Jo turns to her mother. “Sorry, mom.”
Ellen just gives a sad smile. “It's okay, baby. You spend some time with Sam. I can hold down the fort for awhile.”
The next thing he knows, he's being dragged to one of the tables with a pitcher of beer and a bottle of rum.
It's the second time he's doing shots with someone in the last couple months and it feels a little more human because while he's getting dimple cheeked and feel good, so is Jo with every shot they take.
They're laughing at the stupidest things. Sam tells her about the time he and Dean went after a nest of pixies because they were taking fingers from children and while that might not seem like a big deal, Dean was gungho because you know, children? They were messing with kids and he wouldn't go for that. The Pixies ended making him go bald and burned off his eyebrows, he wore a snow cap and a pair of sunglasses for a month until it all grew back.
Jo hollers with laughter. “I would have loved to see that. The great Dean Winchester looking like...”
“A cross between John Malkovich and Powder? Yeah, it was something to see,” Sam says, smiling.
Jo snorts. “Oh god, I think I would have even did him then.”
Sam agrees, because he wanted to, more than anything.
Ellen comes up behind them, carrying mugs of beer and a pitcher on a tray. “It's getting late and I need you back on duty here soon, Jo.”
Jo nods, looking slightly lost and a little fuzzy herself. “Right o, mama. Right on it.” She turns to Sam. “You staying tonight?”
“Guess I could,” he says thoughtfully.
“Drink up and I'll get you a room,” She tells him as she stands on her feet, swaying to the side a little and laughs. “I don't think I can serve people like this.”
Sam chuckles. “Drink a little coffee or dunk your head In cold water?”
Jo zings her hand up with her index pointed at the ceiling, and body bowed at a curve as her left leg lifts off the ground. “Sam, you're a freaking genius!”
She leaves him and five minutes later, she comes out of the wash room with her hair dripping wet and a towel around her shoulders. She smiles at him playfully and he laughs so hard, he nearly pisses himself.
xxxxxxxxxx
Later on, after he's finished his eighth beer, and he's trying to focus to follow Jo to his room. He stumbles into the door and leans against it, she slides inside and pulls him In and he doesn't even get a chance to look at where he'll be staying because she pushes his uncoordinated body against the wall, and kisses him soundly, except it's sloppy because he's not sure what's going on and what she's even doing.
He manages to push her away when his brain gets the idea. “Jo. Hold on a sec...”
Jo looks down then, maybe embarrassed, maybe sad and she says “I'm sorry, I just...”
And he gets it. He does. She's lonely, like him. She might have brushed off being with Dean as something not to be too forlorn about but he knows this woman loved his brother Probably more than he loved her. They're the only two people who really understand what it's like to love Dean Winchester and lose him.
He moves forward, with that thought, suddenly a little more sober and takes her face in his hands, kissing her with more grace and tongue than she was likely expecting.
She moves into it, her hands holding onto his shoulders like he's a lifeline and they're tumbling toward the full size bed, until he's laying over top of her, her legs arched up and knees squeezing his sides. He hasn't had sex in months, and even if it's a little sick, Dean was the last to have her and that means something to him.
Just a little.
Jo isn't in the mood for foreplay and neither is he, they don't bother removing their upper clothes, just their pants, shoes and underwear. Getting the condom on is a frantic need as he curses and Jo bats his hands away to roll it on for him.
He sinks into her, hot and wet around him as he groans and she let's out a deep sigh. Hands scrambling for purchase against his back as her pretty pink fingernails dig into his skin. He fucks her hard, deep and fast as he half hopes Ellen doesn't kick him out for diddling her only child.
She comes before him, eyes rolling in the back of her head but is a hell of a trooper as she seems to make it through enough to pay attention and help him reach his climax.
He falls to her side, tying off the condom and throwing it somewhere in the room. His brain too slow to care how nasty that really is at the moment.
He lays there, staring at the ceiling as he catches his breath and then his face screws up and he let's out a sob. He's crying and he can't stop it, his hands come up to his face as he wipes away the tears, chest heaving and body shaking. Jo clings to his side, arm over his waist and squeezing tight as she buries her head against his chest and cries along with him.
They fuck again twenty minutes later and they're still not okay enough to sleep.
xxxxxxxxxxx
The first person Ruby suggests, is a man named Edwin Cane. Someone deep into black magic, something called Old Blood. He travels across three southern states, the Impala a deep rumble underneath his palms and finds the ramshackle house out on the bayou.
The old man greets him almost unkindly, he's dark skinned with a silver afro and he has so many wrinkles it's hard to tell where his cheeks and jaws begin but he let's Sam inside and they talk about resurrection. The man gives him instructions. A full moon, various ingredients that Sam really doesn't want to touch, he needs his own blood and something of his brother's that he was attached to in order to make it happen.
Sam can't help himself however, he asks what if the person went to hell and the old man gives a sad sigh. “Boy, if hell don't want to let him go. He won't come back.”
Sam swallows then and nods. “I'll force them to.”
Edwin chuckles darkly. “Can't force the power of hell to do anything.”
Sam keeps his mouth shut on the subject, thanks him and leaves.
Thirteen days later, he drives to Dean's resting place with the full moon hanging high above , digs up the grave and takes his amulet. He stares at the rotting body, his chest aching and a flare of pain right where his heart should be. He turns away and sits down on the grass. Crushing up the ingredients in a thick glass bowl and then slices his arm to let his blood flow into it. He throws the amulet inside and the bowl lights up like tiny magnificent fireworks but he's too numb to really enjoy the show.
He dumps the contents over Dean's body and he watches as it lights up, the entire corpse sizzling but there's no burn smell.
But then the sparks slow down, burn out and all he sees is Dean, lifeless and still smelling of death.
He sits there for eleven hours, telling himself it takes time to work and when the sun rises, he gives up, covers Dean's body with Earth and goes back to the Impala.
He's too tired too cry anymore.
xxxxxxxxxx
Jo calls. There's a hunt in Missouri. She wants to go and while she's a grown woman, her mom wants her to have more than one person with her. She has someone ready and raring to go, a girl named Virginia Newham and Sam is her prime choice cut of beef, which is what she tells him.
He agrees to tag along.
The hunt has to do with demons, of course, it's always demons. He drinks a little too much blood from Ruby before he goes and feels the coal heart of power course through him. He almost fucks her when she kisses him, riled up and wanting to stick his dick in a warm and willing hole but he's reminded she's a demon, his brother would disapprove and it's enough to wilt his dick.
When he arrives at the roadhouse, Jo jumps him in the middle of the bar. Legs wrapped around his waist and briefly he flashes to Dean in his fantasies before he kisses her forehead and holds her tight. She calls back to Ellen. “Be back in a couple weeks!”
“Better only be a couple weeks. Don't want Chelsey getting overloaded,” Ellen advises.
Jo let's go of him and a woman comes up behind her, taller than Jo. Probably by a few inches. She's gorgeous, someone his brother would hit on in less than a second. Long wavy blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, long bangs hanging by the sides of her face. She's wearing a mid-drift jean jacket with a black halter top underneath and flared boot cut jeans with a belt with a shining silver buckle. She wears a semi flirtatious smile as she looks Sam up and down when Jo steps away.
“You said you were bringing out the big guns, Jojo but you didn't say he'd be good looking,” the woman says lightly, voice southern thick.
Jo rolls her eyes. “Meet Dean,” She says with amusement in her voice. “In lady form.”
Sam cocks an eyebrow.
Truthfully, she has a point, he's getting Dean vibes.
A little too much.
She holds out her hand, it's not really too delicate looking, the nails are cut short and when he takes hold of her hand, she's firm but not rough. A man's handshake. “Virginia but most call me Gina.”
“Sam. Pleasure to meet you, Gina,” he offers, as she holds on for a moment too long and then he drops it. Because those vibes are a little weird and while he might have sex with Jo, going after Lady Dean would be going too far.
Even though she's fucking him with her eyes.
She grins. “Pleasures all mine, sugar.”
Sam nods, and turns to look at Jo, who's leaning against the bar with her stomach and hips jutted out, looking awkward and out of place. He gets the feeling for just a second, that she feels like he'll run off with Gina and while there aren't any romantic declarations between them, he wants to let her know she's the only girl at the moment for him. “Ready to go?”
Jo smiles, it shines. “Been ready since I found out about this hunt.”
xxxxxxx
They're packed into the impala, duffel bags in the back and Virginia sprawled out on the back seat. Jo in the passenger with him, looking over a map.
They travel for hours, listening to Sam's IPOD jacked into the dash, blaring out Florence and the machine, stopping for gas and snacks along the way.
Jo fills him in on the details. There's this holy artifact called the God Hand. It has infinite and omnipresent power. Falling into the wrong hands would be a terrible act on mankind, and there are demons after it. The God Hand is located in a catholic church called Saint Peter's and apparently the cops don't believe the priests and the hunters who have tried going against the demons have died. The few that escaped, told people to stay far away and let it happen. Someone else will come along and take care of it later.
“What makes you so sure we can do it?,” Sam asks, as the track changes and Heartlines comes on.
Jo smiles almost coy. “Because you're a Winchester and I”m a Harvelle. We're not known for losing.”
Sam wants to disagree, because he did lose twice and so did she but he just smiles lopsidedly at the naïve optimism. “Whatever you say...Jojo.”
Jo snorts. “Only Gina is allowed to call me that but mostly because she doesn't understand the word stop.”
“I call you that because you're cute and remind me of Jojos, baby. Something tasty and crispy to chew on,” Gina pipes up from the back.
“Now I'm hungry,” Sam says with a sigh.
“Sure there will be a diner when we stop for the night,” Jo murmurs and in the next moment she goes. “Take this exit.”
So he does.
xxxxxxxxxx
They make it into Missouri nine hours later. The first thing they do is look around for a diner, they find Steve's Fish and Chips. Eat to their hearts content and then get to a motel for the night.
Virginia moves around the motel, half naked as she brushes her teeth and let's down her hair. Sam might have the self-control of Christ but he can't help looking at her semi-thick thighs and wide hips. She catches him looking, grins like a fucking lioness and he has to look away before his dick gets any ideas.
Jo sits at the small table with his laptop open, in her nighttime clothes of plaid pajama shorts and a black shirt that claims she was born in the eighties. “Looks like a local news site is reporting on the deaths of priests at the church.”
Sam undoes his boots finally, unlacing them as he speaks.”Guess that means they're going to make a move for it soon.”
“That's what I figured too,” Jo says absentmindedly as she clicks around.
“I'm going to take a shower. Whatever you find, tell me when I get out,” Sam says as he gets up and sheds his shirt as he goes. Hearing an appreciative wolf whistle from Virginia as he closes the door behind him.
xxxxxxxxxx
They make it to Belton, Missouri a day later.
The very first thing they do, is go into Saint Peter's Church and seek out the head priest.
His name is Francis Miller. He's a young man, dark red hair with almost glowing blue eyes and he looks so tired, at his wit's end about the whole thing.
Sam and Jo sit in two red oak chairs at the front of the desk while Virginia stands at back like a vigil. “Tell us what's been going on,” Sam commands gently.
Father Francis pinches the bridge of his nose. “It started about two months ago. We had people coming into the church, more so than usual and we thought, praise god, praise his mightiness that people were interested in becoming one of his people but... that of course, was a lie we would have liked to believe in.”
The trio say nothing, all sympathetic faces, urging him to go on. “We caught a young woman going into our relics room, and we told her she had to leave but she was crying and nearly sobbing that she had to have the God Hand. I asked her why and she said the devil was going to take her babies if she didn't give it to him. I honestly didn't believe her, because why would they need something that...?” He stops for a moment and sighs. “I believe in God, I truly do but there haven't been too many miracles in this day and age, so I never thought any of our relics would be … well, the real deal.”
He pauses again, and then speaks. “I sent her away and the next morning, her face was plastered on the news, crying like before, only it was much worse. Her two children were children, a boy and girl were murdered in cold blood. She said demons did it and they assumed, that since they couldn't find a culprit, that she was mentally unsound and had her committed for the murders of her children. I … shamefully thought that might be the case as well.”
Sam's stomach churns. “But it wasn't.”
“No, it wasn't. We had more people coming in, trying to take the God Hand. One man got close enough and attempted to lift off the glass from around it but he was driven back by a force that knocked him into a wall. More people came and it hasn't stopped. We thought about closing the church doors because of it but then... the demons themselves started showing up.”
“Have they been killing those of your priesthood recently?,” Jo interjects.
“Yes, they have infact. We know they're warnings, hand it over or we slaughter your family. Anything like that, must come from the devil himself,” Francis murmurs, taking a sip of water from the glass to his left.
“I agree,” Sam says, hoping it comforts him. “Have you seen any of these demons?”
He nods. “Yes, I have. Sometimes they stand outside the church, looking in. That tells me that can't cross but one actually can...”
Sam narrows his eyes, thinking of Lilith. “Do they have white eyes?”
Francis shakes his head. “No, they're yellow and it's a she.”
Sam goes numb, it couldn't be Azazel. The bastard is long since dead and can no longer hijack bodies. It's impossible. “What happened?”
“Hmm... same thing as the man, almost, but she was able to lift the glass and shatter it. She had her hands on it but it burned her and she fled. We couldn't get anywhere near her, and that was the end of it,” Francis explains.
Sam and Jo exchange a brief look. Then Sam says. “Do you have, maybe, any references to what the God Hand is?”
“It's supposed to be a piece of God's active force, just a fraction. The hand of God, you know? Anyone who can possess it, will be granted immense power. The ability to do whatever they want but with good intentions. Otherwise, it will reject you,” Francis tells him, with a slight frown. “But I could get you one of our guide books.”
“You get that and we'll discuss what we can do,” Sam says with a soft smile.
“Thank you, I'll be right back,” Francis says as he gets up and walks out of the room.
“Okay, so … I'm thinking they can't actually get a hold of the God Hand. It's useless to them,” Jo speaks first.
Sam tilts his head thoughtfully. “If that were the case, they wouldn't be trying to get it.”
“The tall man has a point. All this trouble for something that doesn't benefit them, wouldn't make much sense,” Gina says, leaning over the back of Jo's chair.
“Mmm..,” Jo says trailing off. “What can we do about the demons?”
Sam has tactics already in mind, not something either of the two hunters will approve of but he has a feeling it might work. “I'll drive them out.”
“And how do you plan to do that, Mr. Winchester?,” Virginia asks, blonde brow cocked.
“Just trust me,” Sam says, pointedly not looking at either of them.
The priest comes back in a few moments later, a printed paper with everything about the God Hand legend on it.
They all read it over quietly. Same things they've heard so far, but apparently it has the same power as an archangel. Which Sam guesses means, someone with good intent, even if those intentions would be bad to others, would still respond to that person. It's belief and faith that drives it more so than being all pure in the eyes of God.
“We're going to check out the city, Father Francis,” Sam says after he finishes. “Virginia will stay here with you and keep everything well oiled,” Sam says as he stands.
“Why do I have to stay?,” Virginia says, looking a little put out.
Sam shrugs. “Because I'm comfortable with Jo and I've been hunting for years to know what to look for.”
Virginia doesn't look convinced but she shrugs. “Fine by me.”
xxxxxxxxxx
They can't find the demons anywhere. Jo keeps looking at him strangely because he's going by his gut instinct, his ability to sense demons without having to see shy black eyes or smell the stink of sulfur. He thinks he gets a hint of one, but it as soon disappears when he feels it.
When they're driving back to the church, Sam gets a sudden idea. “What if...,” he trails off.
“Yeah?”,” Jo asks, yawning as she leans against the passenger window.
“What if you or Virginia could use it? Take it somewhere and hide it?,” Sam suggests.
“Hm... I didn't even think of that,” Jo says, voice slightly awed. “We should see if the priest allows it first though.”
“That's what I thought of too but mostly if one of you can take it, it might not be found for awhile again,” Sam explains, turning down the street.
“Why can't you?,” Jo questions, giving him a side long glance.
“Because I'm not as good or pure as my intentions appear sometimes,” He answers, getting as close to the truth as he's comfortable with.
Jo gives him a puzzled look and nods. “Okay, then I'm sure Gina and I both have no problem giving it a go.”
As Sam pulls into the parking lot beside the church, there's a bunch of men and women loitering around outside and his senses tingle, on edge. He stops the car and glances over at Jo. “Demons in front of the church.”
Jo turns her eyes toward him and nods. “Think there will be a fight?”
Sam purses his lips. “I don't know.”
He gets out and she follows, they take shotguns from the trunk and move to the front of the buildings. All the demons eyes snap to them at once and one with long stringy blonde hair sneers, almost in bemusement. “Sam Winchester.”
Sam moves up the stairs backwards, making sure Jo stays behind him, both of them have their guns aimed and Sam doesn't say anything. He knows what he could do to the seven or eight standing out here, wouldn't even get a nose bleed but he doesn't want to reveal that yet.
Jo still trusts him and she's kinda his anchor to feeling alright In this world.
The demon takes a few steps forward. “Not going to show us your prowess? Been hearing so many great things about you.”
Sam cocked his head up, his face pinched and tight with underlined rage. Hoping he conveys for the demon to take the hint. He turns to Jo. “Go.”
Jo turns and runs up the stairs, running through the doors and Sam follows suit.
“My boss is in there, better watch yourself,” the demon calls out, followed by a chorus of chuckles.
Sam turns into the church, the air smells of sulfur and there's a scream echoing against the walls, bouncing off the lit white leaking candles at the alter and Jo stands up front, still as the night. Sam walks up beside her and sees one of the priests has his throat and chest torn open, laying on the ground with thick red blood, a pool, surrounding him.
“Gina...,” Jo whispers.
Sam doesn't even answer, he makes a run for the relic room.
xxxxxxxxxx
Thirty seconds later, he finds himself at the entrance of the room and he can hear whimpering. He looks around the corner, eyes grazing over items in glass cases, mounted on walls and armor on display. But what catches his attention more than anything is Father Francis crumpled in a corner, staring up at some woman with pin straight blonde hair, in a black sweater jacket and blue jeans, holding up Virginia by her throat against a wall as the girl kicks and struggles. The demon has a hand on the girl's chest like a viced claw, dipples of red leaking from the wound.
“You hearing me, Franny Poo? I'll let her go if you tell me where the God Hand is,” the demon says in a sweet, patronizing voice. “Don't you want to save the life of some poor innocent hunter?”
“I told you, I don't know,” Francis says, voice trembling.
“Filthy...demon...bitch,” Gina utters, voice choked but loud enough in that I'm stubborn and won't take it standing down even when I'm outnumbered.' kinda tone.
The demon laughs. “Names Leraie, sweetie but bitch is quite a title to have.”
Sam's heard enough, he moves inside, cocking the shotgun as he speaks. “Drop her and I won't kill you.”
Leraie's head snaps around, she narrows her eyes at him but still holds onto Virginia tight. “Oh, you,” she says almost too softly with an edge. “That gun won't do much of anything but if you put your little ol' heart into it... you might be able to scratch me some.”
Sam snorts, his tolerance for demons besides Ruby these days, is pretty low. “You're right, don't need the gun.” He tosses it to the side, making a note where it lands later.
She drops Virginia then with a thud as the woman yelps out painfully. Leraie turns to him and walks toward him with ease. She's arrogant, that much he can tell and her eyes are a sickening yellow like Azazel's. His mouth goes dry because she's not even a little stricken by his presence, She rounds her shoulders, amused, cocky smile on her face. “What you gonna do? Exorcise me?”
“Wow, for a General, you're pretty childish,” Sam says ruefully with a huff.
She smiles, it reminds him of a child. “Call it what you will. I just want to know where the God Hand is.”
Sam shrugs. “You can't use it, so what's the point of finding it?”
Leraie purses her lips. “That's about to change soon.”
Sam cocks his head, wondering what she means.
The next thing he knows, he's flung back into the other room, sliding across the floor, so hard, that if he were on Earthy ground, he would have torn up a plot for someone to be buried in. His back aches as he gasps in a breath from the force, and he looks up as Leraie approaches him, she's got the determination and grace of a snake on a mission.
Sam's hand shoots out, fingers curling in as his face goes into concentrate mood, scrunched up and she actually stops for a moment, going rigid as she stares at him. He releases his inward fingers and frees them upward as she flies through the air, hitting into a wall with a groan.
He scrambles to his feet and hears footsteps approaching, as he stalks over to her, but she's getting up quickly, shaking out her hair like she's getting rid of invisible dust. “No wonder Azazel liked you so much, Sammy. You have real potential.”
Sam curls his fingers in again, twists his hand to the side like he's been taught and Leraie is slammed up against the wall, Head thrown back but she doesn't look scared. She tsks. “You can't exorcise me. You're no where near powerful enough for that.”
Sam wishes he had slaughtered a few of the demons outside to prove her wrong. “Doesn't matter, you're not getting the God Hand.”
“Sam?,” Jo's voice perks up from his left, but he can't turn to look at her. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Go help Father Francis and Gina,” Sam dismisses.
“Okay,” Jo says, her voice not betraying what she thinks of what she's currently seeing.
Leraie chuckles softly. “Your friends don't know, huh?”
Sam chooses to ignore her, as he keeps her in place but he's starting to feel the affects, his body is shaking and his nose feels sore like a blood vessel is about to burst.
“You're a sad demon blooded little man,” Leraie mocks. “Did Ruby tell you that you'd end up saving Dean or get revenge?”
Sam half lids his eyes in suspicion.
“She did, didn't she?,” Leraie says with an almost disinterested sigh.
“Is she lying?” Sam answers her, as he glances over to see Jo and Virginia helping Father Francis from the room.
He looks back at her and she smiles almost sweetly.”Ruby doesn't care about you getting revenge or getting Dean back, Sammy. Not even a little bit... sure, someday with enough blood running through your veins and your power perfected, you could very well raise your brother but her goal is much more selfish,much more intune with hell's needs.”
Sam feels blood trickle down his nose, his temples are starting to ache and there's a sharp pain in the center of his head. “What do you mean?,” he asks, but voice sounds slightly weak to his ears.
“It's all about Lucifer, darling. Our father, the fallen. Lilith herself is a seal, and if you kill her, then you'll unleash him from his cage,” Leraie explains, voice bored as well as her expression.
“And why would Ruby want that?,” Sam asks, again, wetness gushing from his nose.
“Because it's what many demons want, not all, but many. Father rises and we get a world we can control through him, yadda yadda yadda, beauty all around of the demon kind, no humans, all very interesting but mostly it bores the shit out of me and I don't care. I want something more than what Lucifer has planned,” Leraie says with a sigh.
Sam's losing hold, his vision is starting to see two of the blonde. Distantly, he's disappointed in Ruby, if what she says is true but right now he's on a case and … “A-a-and wh-wh-what do-do-,” he begins but his voice shakes so bad, his hand loses it's hold and he crumples to the ground, knees hitting the marble floor painfully as he licks blood from his mouth. Entire body flaring in on him like a ticking time bomb.
Leraie giggles. “Told you, you don't have enough juice for me.” She reachs down and pulls him up by his neck, he sways, staring at her, feeling drained and she wipes a finger through the mess along his mouth and licks the blood from her appendage. “You taste …. tainted but sweet. Not too bad really.”
Sam doesn't have the voice to say anything. If she plans on killing him, just get it over with. He's not surprised when she turns the tables, slamming him up against the wall, head tilted and smiling like the devil himself. “You'd be such an asset if you weren't dead set on being a white hat.”
Sam closes his eyes and the next thing he knows, he's falling to the floor and Leraie is howling deep and gruntled. He turns his head, upward to see Jo with her hand pushed outward, and covering it is a white, almost sheer sleeve and golden talons like a hawk's curving over her hand.
There's a white light emitting from it and she has such a look of concentration on her face, that he briefly thinks of her as beautiful and he's always known she is, but something about the way she approaches their enemy, with the too good of heart she wears on his sleeve, peeking out for all to see makes him realize it in such a breath taking way or it could be that he's in a half hearted daze but still, she is.
“Oh great, Hunter Barbie to the rescue,” Leraie smarts. “You wouldn't happen to want to work for the bad guys would you?”
“Not in this lifetime or another,” Jo says with conviction.
Sam is blinded by a bright light filling the room.
He passes out somewhere between the screaming and begging.
xxxxxxxxxx
There's a thousand tiny needles pounding into his skull, his mouth is dry and he has to take a piss. He crawls from the bed, staggering to the bathroom and relieves himself. He comes back out to see Jo sitting at the table, with the God Hand beside the laptop and Virginia laid out on her and Jo's bed.
Grabbing the bottle of scotch from his duffel, he sits across from Jo, opens up and takes a swig. “Last thing I remember is you showing up with that thing,” he says, eyes glancing at the talon claw.
Jo looks over at him briefly, then returns to typing. “I kinda went nuts on the YED and almost killed her, but she escaped. Apparently it accepts me, but I have no clue how to go about harnessing it's powers.”
Sam nods, taking another long drink. “Now we hide it.”
“Yeah, but how you figure we do that?,” Jo asks, voice tilted.
“Call in a favor from Bobby,” Sam says.
“You sure he'd be willing to do that for us?,” Jo asks, eyebrow quirked.
“Yeah, yeah, he will. I can bank on it,” Sam answers her.
She nods.
He drinks another few minutes and she goes. “You ever giving up the hooch?”
Sam stills for a moment, much as she knows he does this, she's never really called him on it. “Someday.”
Jo clicks around for a few, then shuts down and closes the lid. She leans forward, looking him straight in the eye. “I'm pretty much over him, Sam. He's gone, and I'm okay now.”
Sam feels his heart break suddenly, there's going to be a loss and it's going to hurt. He just takes a drink and tries not to look at her.
“You helped with that because if you hadn't come along, then I would have never grieved proper and I'd still be a hot mess on the inside,” She says a bit more softly.
“You're welcome?,” Sam hedges, looking down at the table.
“Yeah, thank you,” Jo says with a small smile. “But you're not over it and I don't think you'll ever truly be, not unless you have him by your side again. Being brothers, that whole family business thing you got going on.”
Sam shakes his head. “You're right, Jo.” More than you know, he doesn't add.
“I know I am, Sam,” she whispers. “And I've been researching about archangels and their power because let me tell you, whew, the stuff that was coursing through me. I could have gotten addicted to having it, to feel invincible and immortal.”
Sam nods.
“I think you should keep the God Hand with you,” Jo suggests.
Sam looks up, slightly bewildered. “Why?”
“Because what I found out is... archangels have the ability to resurrect anyone they want to, unlike demons, they don't need a deal and if this weapon has that kind of power, then it should belong to you,” Jo explains gently.
Sam reels for a moment, he hadn't even considered anything like that. “Jo... that's...great but it would reject me.”
Jo bites her bottom lip, there's a knowing look in her amber brown eyes. “It might right now, but if you get out of whatever you're doing, then it could see you as worthy.”
Sam stares at the bottle in his hand, puts it on the table and has a mental battle, telling the alcohol he doesn't need it.
It'll be the first of many before he finally gives it up.
xxxxxxxxxx
Bobby takes the God Hand and keeps it in the panic room.
Only Jo, and Sam know the location.
Ruby finds him a week later, after he avoids her. She shows up at his motel, when he answers, her eyes are big brown and puppy dog like, like he's kicked her without warning and well, he pretty much did.
“You don't write, you don't call. What kinda bullshit is that?,” She says as she pushes past him into the room.
He turns to look at her, the blood in her veins sings to him and he's been getting cravings for it, but it's not worth going dark side if there's something else that could give him what he wants. “I met Leraie.”
Ruby turns around, face carefully blank. “Leraie?”
“Yellow eyed demon. Going against the major 'Raise Lucifer from the cage' plan?,” Sam says, face hardening.
Ruby sighs. “She told you, huh?”
“Yeah, she did,” Sam admits, standing there awkwardly, but no less grounded.
“Could have been something good, Sam,” She says almost sadly, hand on her hip as she looks around the room.
“I doubt it,” Sam says, meaning it.
She looks at him a bit sharply and goes. “You'll start jonsing for a hit soon. One more week and you'll be going through withdraw.”
“I can handle it,” Sam says a bit firmly.
Ruby nods, lips tight. “Get somewhere safe, stay with a friend. Don't be alone.”
“Okay,” he answers. He just wants her out of his room and his life.
“It gets pretty bad,” She says softly.
“I'm not drinking from you anymore,” Sam says with thinnly veiled disgust.
“I know,” She says with a shrug. She walks past him a little, stops and reaches up to kiss underneath his chin. “It's just so you know, that way you're not all strung out and shitting yourself when it happens.”
He nods, skin crawling from her mouth on his skin. The irony that his own lips settled on her stolen flesh not long ago.
“Take care, Sam,” She says In a gentle voice, almost melancholy as she leaves the room.
It sounds like she cares, he almost believes it.
xxxxxxxxxx
Two days before it really hit him hard, really hard. He was starting to shake so bad, he could barely drive and had to stop on the side of the room and wait until the tremors passed.
It's a sickness inside him, he wants to taste the poison blood of a hell beast and bath in it until he's soaked from head to toe.
Bobby had to come get him two hours from Sioux Falls, towed the Impala back to the salvage yard as Sam broke out in a cold sweat and talked gibberish in the passenger seat.
Bobby claimed he was speaking in tongues later.
xxxxxxxxxx
He doesn't remember reality in detox.
Just flashes of things that can't be real.
Dean on a dirty table without cloth or comfort.
Naked, bruised, slashed open and bleeding.
Dean and Sam naked, curled up in bed together, whispering.
Dean slicing into people with glee.
Dean and Sam holding hands across a diner table.
Dean screaming, begging for release.
Dean's eyes full of love and trust, beyond the broken and dead look in his gazes.
Dean crying for him.
Dean sleeping in bed all day and never leaving his room.
Dean sobbing that they leave Sam out of it.
Dean breaking some guy's nose in irrational anger and shoving a beer bottle through his eye socket.
Dean apologizing after raping a tortured soul, gagging until his throat is raw and torn.
Dean hating himself so much, he tries to take his own life.
Someone laughing in the dark, talking about what a good soldier he is.
Too many voices all at once, mocking Dean with every bad thing that ever happened to him in life.
And then when he finally came back to reality.
He heard someone whisper near his ear 'It's yours.'
A light filled the room and he stumbled from the bed, eyed tired as the God hand shone on the desk.
He reached out and touched it, it vibrated against his finger tips, warm to the touch like a mother's comforting hug. He picked it up, held it to his chest as he took a deep breath and whispered. “Thank you.” Hazel fox eyes raised toward the ceiling.
xxxxxxxxxx
As much as he wants to taste the salty and bitter alcohol on his tongue, he doesn't drink a drop the night he digs up Dean's grave for the fifth time. His body is so far decomposed now, he can see his bones and it makes him sick to his stomach.
His handsome, irritatingly beautiful brother, is a mere shadow of his former self.
He hops down in the grave, doesn't have a clue to what he's doing and sends a quick prayer above as he places the God Hand over his left hand.
It glows softly, then a fire ignites from at the tips of the talons, it's red and white with a hint if gold, it flares like phoenix feathers and instinctively he knows to move it from head to toe, seven times.
On the seventh time, Dean's body bursts into flames and his stomach coils, praying, hoping he just did the right thing.
He climbs out of the grave, watching as the body burns down to ash and stares in horror that his brother is nothing now.
He chokes on a sob, disbelieving and then the red light comes back and it's so bright, he has to cover his eyes.
When the edges of scarlet aren't peeking from underneath his hand, he hears a bloody scream, someone in pain and he knows instantly, it's Dean.
He looks down and Dean is curling in on himself, naked, whimpering and making these terrible, sad sounds like a dying animal.
He doesn't question it, doesn't even consider to as he climbs down in the grave and gets his knees underneath Dean's head, and Dean sniffs the air, looks up with wild eyes in the moonlight.
He pulls himself up right and presses his face into Sam's chest as he clings to his shirt with his hands, so tight and Sam can feel him shaking. “Sammy,” Dean whimpers, voice low and scratchy.
Sam just wraps his arms around him, talon hand settled against new flesh and he whispers. “I missed you, Dean.”
Dean just whimpers again, clings tighter and Sam knows Dean missed him too.