Grayscale
Author's Note: Oh Em Gee, I'm whumping Sammy! But, there'll be plenty of Dean angst to go along with it. In any case, ultimately, you can't hurt one brother without hurting the other, insert nefarious laughter here. I'm so excited about this story. We all knew it'd only be a matter of time before Gordon found the boys again…and how convenient that certain, intrusive characters affiliated with Gordon know of Sam's secret now…oh, yes, this will be painfully fun to write, and hopefully just as well to read.
Warnings: General spoilers, and probably helps if you've seen 2x03 Bloodlust (such a great episode). Mild language ensues and future violence. Also, if you're not a fan of protective Dean and vulnerable Sammy (and vice versa) you probably won't like this. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: I'm just playing in Kripke's sandbox for a while. I'll clean up my mess when I'm done. Granted, it'll be a pretty large mess.
"So, we got a plan?"
"Nope."
"Is there a hunt, somewhere?"
"Nope."
"Uh, then where are we going?"
Dean paused with a folded shirt in hand, ready to place in a duffle, and looked up expectantly at Sam.
"I don't know, princess. Where do you want to go?" He asked with his voice mocking something of a saccharine substance. He had the expression to go with it. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and huffed out a breath.
"Shut up. It's just…not like you to pick up and go somewhere without having anything in mind. Unless…something's bothering you," Sam said, and then stared at his brother awaiting a response, some kind of eye narrowing that told him he was right. And he was, as Dean quickly narrowed his eyes and then looked away. Sam almost smiled smugly, but refrained only so he could further interrogate his brother.
"So," Sam continued. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"
Dean glanced once more towards Sam. "Nope."
"Do I need to beat it out of you?"
At that, the older Winchester couldn't suppress a small outburst of laughter.
"Please," Dean maintained a monotone steadiness to his voice. "Anything but that."
"Come on, Dean. Just tell me. You know I'll find out sooner or later."
"Then I'll take you up on the later."
"You're impossible. You'd think after all this, everything we've been through, that you might actually talk to me."
"I can't talk to you, Sam!" Dean snapped, and Sam couldn't control himself from shuddering a little. A few, forced breaths later, Dean calmed down. "Look, I can tell you this. There are some things you just would rather not know, okay?"
Sam shook his head and walked to the other end of the room. With his back towards his brother, he spoke quietly but anxiously.
"I don't need a lecture, Dean. I'd just like an actual conversation."
Dean lightened up a little, tried relaxing his tense muscles.
"Ah, this must be that time of the month for you, huh?"
Sam spun around and leered at his brother.
"Fine, I give up. I don't care why we're packing up and heading out for no apparent reason. I don't even care that something is obviously bothering you. And I don't even care to argue with you about it."
Dean scrunched his nose and made a face.
"Is this some kind of…" Dean moved his hands in the air around the vicinity of his head. "You know, reverse psychology deal?"
"It's whatever you want it to be."
"Smart boy," the older Winchester commented, and then sighed dolefully. "Alright. I just want to get away from here. For the past few days, pretty much since you 'came out' to Ellen…I haven't exactly had the best vibe about this place."
"Wait, so you're…scared?" Sam questioned, unable to hide the teasing aura to his voice.
"Dude, Dean Winchester doesn't get scared."
"Since when does 'Dean Winchester' talk about himself in the third person?"
"Since…just now. Thanks for asking."
"Hold on. So…what exactly are you scared about?" Sam redirected their conversation back to the central issue. Dean became slightly exasperated.
"I'm not scared! It's just a vibe…something doesn't feel right, doesn't feel safe. I can't really explain it…"
"I didn't think Dean Winchester ran away from things that couldn't be explained," Sam quipped, but his eyes still held concern as he looked to his brother. Dean just grinned.
"Dean Winchester doesn't run away…he drives away—in a sexy, black '67 Impala." He countered, then zipped up his duffle. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Fine. So that's it- you have a vibe? That's why we're leaving, because of an inkling?" The younger hunter suddenly became very serious. "It wasn't like, a premonition, was it?"
"What?" Dean stated, his mouth slightly agape. "No, that's your field of expertise, Sylvia. Why would you think that, anyway?"
"Well," Sam moved back towards his bed and sat down, looking so young and worried that Dean could hardly stand to watch as he sulked in his quiet thoughts. "I was just thinking…you remember Andy? He had a brother, and each of them had…abilities."
And there it was, that incriminating 'A' word that made Dean cringe.
"Yeah," Dean said, not wanting to acknowledge what he already guessed Sam was getting at. "And?"
"Well…we're brothers. I have abilities, so I just wondered that maybe…maybe you did, too…and it wasn't just me," Sam said, his voice moving down to a near whisper, and then he started to chew on his lip.
Dean dropped his shoulders and rubbed a hand down his face.
"This is going to be so Soap Opera," he muttered to himself below a breath and then walked around the bed and sat shoulder to shoulder with Sam. "It's not just you, Sam. I'm here with you. And I'm not going anywhere. You're not going to go through this alone."
"But I am alone in this, Dean. And I can't control it…what if…" Sam drifted off, and Dean was halfway nervous about provoking him to continue.
"No 'what if's. We're in this together and we'll figure it out, like we always do. Period. Now, let's just put what's happened here behind us and move on." Please.
"But…we don't even know where we're going."
"Something tells me you'll have an idea shortly," Dean said, hiding something in his words that Sam sought out but couldn't find.
"What? Why?"
"Because," Dean started, then reached in one of his bags and pulled out what Sam could almost swear was their old laptop, though he appeared he couldn't quite grasp the concept. Dean chuckled. "I know you've missed being Geek Boy as much as I've missed you being Geek Boy."
"Dean…what…how did…" Sam stumbled with his words as he carefully accepted the laptop into his arms and looked it over in disbelief.
"I asked Ash if he'd fix it up for you," Dean mentioned. "I checked it out myself and it works as good as new. Hell, maybe even better. I didn't know when I should show you, but I figure now's a good a time as any. So, here's lookin' at you, kid." Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder and stood up.
"This is incredible. I thought it was beyond repair." Sam said, staring at the laptop and tracing his fingers over the keyboard whilst practically mesmerized.
"Do you two, uh, need to be alone?"
Sam ignored his brother's remark.
"Thanks, Dean. I've been going out of my mind with boredom lately…"
"You mean killer clowns and living dead people haven't been exciting enough for you?"
Sam's eye twitched as he remembered the freaky looking clown, but easily dismissed any fear and put his attention back on the laptop.
"Guess not," he answered absently.
"Well, then I'll let you do your thing and find us some place to go, something exciting, 'kay?"
"Sounds like a plan."
"Meanwhile, I'm going to go get some gas and pick up lunch before we hit the road. That should give you enough time for you and the laptop to get…you know, reacquainted. Just keep away from my pile of clothes, they were just washed."
"Bite me," Sam said, barely suppressing an annoyed smile.
"Whatever," Dean laughed, then grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "I'll be back in a while, so I hope you find us a good hunt. I know you'll be able to, being the research junkie that you are."
Sam nodded sharply. Dean was halfway out the door when Sam spoke up again.
"Hey," he called, and Dean turned to face him. "About what you told me, about the vibe you had? Are you going to be okay?"
The older hunter clenched his jaw and looked around the room, to find anything to look at that wasn't Sam because it was more difficult to lie if he was looking directly into his little brother's eyes.
"Yeah, Sammy. We both are." Dean said reassuringly. He then took one more step outside, and just when the door was about to click shut, he opened it quickly and peeked in with a sly grin on his face. "Oh, and use protection. Wouldn't want to jam your hard drive, huh Sam?"
The door was shut before Sam could warrant a response.
-:-:-:-:-:-
It didn't take very long for Sam to relinquish himself into the blissful act of research. He was so caught up in the moment—all the search results, news articles, web forums—it was almost too much of a good thing. He hardly recognized the knocking at the door.
He stood up, mindlessly wondering about who could be paying a visit. He supposed it would just be motel staff for some reason or another, but still his hunter instincts were prime as he cautiously opened the door and had the knife in his jeans ready for easy access—even if it was early afternoon. But his precautionary demeanor had apparently been for nothing as it appeared to have been just what he thought- motel staff.
A man with a sandy blonde goatee and a dark janitor uniform and hat stood with a wide grin plastered on his face. Sam made a quick glance to his ID badge and read the name 'Isaac'.
"Sam Winchester?" The man asked. His voice was gruff but seemed friendly—too friendly.
"What can I do for you?" Sam answered warily, but attempting to remain just as friendly.
"I just came to deliver a message," he said, then leaned forward and motioned for Sam to do the same. Hesitantly, Sam mimicked the secret-sharing position, but had his knife in hand behind his back, ready and alert. "You and your brother? Should have left a lot sooner, mate."
Sam's eyes widened and just as he pulled away he felt a sharpness prick his neck and a tingling sensation erupted from the point and traveled down his body. He dropped the knife and clenched his upper shoulder and the side of his neck as he staggered backwards.
Isaac was holding an empty syringe and smiled heartlessly.
"Have a nice nap, kid," was the last clear thing Sam heard, and then everything became jumbled and hollow as his vision slowly blurred into black stars. Soon enough, darkness rimmed his eyes completely as it closed in around him. He felt nothing but cold and empty, because he was too numb to be frightened. And then, there was only sleep. Shivering, exhausting sleep.
-:-:-:-:-:-
There was a nervous dripping echoing around him and a damp coolness to the air. Darkness controlled the room with a fierce prowess, preventing Sam from identifying his surroundings as consciousness slowly returned to him and he opened his eyes against the ever-strong drowsiness.
He wasn't aware of where he was, or how he got there, but he was very much certain he was heavily constrained. His arms were bound tightly behind his back and his wrists ached horridly. He was sitting down, or forced down, firmly against a rickety chair. Both his ankles were tied to each of the front chair legs. He attempted to move, but whatever sedative he'd been given still held a weakening effect on him that he desperately tried to shake off.
A quick, rigid movement scattered into the silence. Sam perked his head up and looked around, still unable to see anything.
"Dean?" He called, his voice scratched his dry throat and something in the air burned his eyes, forcing them shut. With a blinding flash, Sam realized the burning in his eyes was from the harsh light that suddenly filled the room. It was just as bad as the thick darkness, so unkind and callous to the eyes that he could hardly see until his sight finally adjusted.
He looked around at the large, empty room. He wasn't quite sure where he was yet, but he thought it safe to guess he was in some kind of cellar or basement, probably of something quite extensive such as an old warehouse. The walls were decorated with grimy watermarks and chipped, peeling dark paint. There weren't any windows that he could tell, just a trail of pipes along the upper walls and on parts of the ceiling which he followed to a bulky door.
Sam stared at the door and he could hear footsteps stomping in his general direction as each grew louder. He swallowed a lump in his throat as the door creaked open, at first revealing only new darkness, but then a figure emerged.
The man stepped in, who Sam fought hard to recall as Isaac, at least he thought that might be his name. But then Isaac moved into the room and opened the door further, and there he was, standing with an ice cold smirk in his eyes.
"…Gordon?" Sam gasped, hardly believing what he was seeing.
"In the flesh," he answered coolly, and then stepped closer to Sam, taking each step as that of a predator's—careful and determined.
"Where am I? Where's Dean?" Sam questioned, attempting to place authority and strength in his voice which he still felt was lacking.
"Dean will be here soon enough, I'm sure. But not for a while…I made my tracks easy to follow, but not too easy."
"What's all this about?"
Gordon laughed, nudging Isaac in the arm which made him laugh as well. He then walked in front of Sam and eyed him like a hawk viewing a helpless field mouse, his face twisted into a sick smile, and his voice cooed maliciously. "This is the thrill of the hunt, Sammy."
Sam looked from Isaac to Gordon with curious fear.
"Hunting…what?" he asked.
Humor left Gordon's expression and his smile was quick to never exist. He stared at the young Winchester, enjoying the gleam of panic and confusion in Sam's eyes.
Sam quivered as Gordon leaned down and spoke the answer chillingly into his ear.
"You."
-:-S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L-:-
To be continued…
Interested? I hope. I'm trying really hard with this story to write something I can look back on months from now and still feel confident about it. Because, honestly, I re-read some of my older stuff and thought every reviewer was far too kind. But, I'm always seeking improvement…so, any tips/suggestions/complaints/feedback is so very welcomed and encouraged so I can learn how to get better yet. Flames, not so much, but I'll take what I can get and make the best.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read. I'll update as soon as I can.
Silver Kitten