Nothing As It Seemed - Part IV
Back to Part III
Sam calls Ava the next morning. He wakes with a pounding headache and rolls over, groaning quietly into the pillow, clenching his eyes against the sunlight streaming from the window. He takes a few deep breaths and eventually pries his eyes open, digging through the mess of Jess' desk for a bottle of aspirin. He downs four with a giant gulp of water from the bottle on her makeshift nightstand and prays it at least takes the edge off.
Jess is still sleeping, one arm buried under her pillow, blonde hair a messy halo around her head. Sam knows she'll complain as soon as she wakes up that she needs to brush her teeth, won't let him kiss her because she has morning breath and that her hair resembles a rat's nest, but he thinks she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen - and also one of the most innocent. Jess may think she knows about the things that lurk in the dark, but the local newspaper articles and the gossip only brush the surface, making hunters sound like heroes and never get into the ugly parts of their job - the people they don’t save, the survivors who have to live with what they've seen.
Sam reaches over to brush her hair off of her cheek, and her eyelids flutter. He sighs, pulls on his pants and a t-shirt, grabs his phone and slips into hallway.
He thumbs through his contacts, finger slipping so he hits 2 instead of 1 and Dean's name flashes across the display, taunting and tempting. He bites his lip. He desperately wants to speak to his brother about this, wishes he could call Dean and confess everything, but he’s terrified of Dean's reaction. He has visions. He can exorcise demons with his mind. That makes him no better than the things his family hunts.
Sam sighs, finding Ava’s number and hitting send. Dean is better off left in the dark.
"Winchester," Ava says as greeting, voice still groggy with sleep. "Didn't expect to hear from you this morning. Thought your sorry ass would still be passed out on the bathroom floor."
"I want back in. I'll do things your way," Sam blurts out louder than he intended. Becky arches an eyebrow from down the hall, and Sam flushes, walking towards the corner staircase as quickly as he can without looking suspicious.
He hears rustling on the other end of the phone, flip-flops walking along the floor, followed by a door closing. “Knew you would change your mind eventually, Sammy,” she says, smirk loud and clear.
"It's Sam," he bites out, and Ava sighs.
"Fine, fine, sorry. Look, I'm headed back to school tonight. Think you can tear yourself away from the festivities and meet me in front of the dorm?"
"Ava, you know I work Saturday nights. I was lucky I was able to get yesterday off." Mike practically took his ear off, lecturing him about responsibility when he tried.
"Your boss knows yesterday was Jess' birthday. Tell him you got so drunk last night you can barely see straight, and you need another night off to recuperate."
Sam opens his mouth to retort but considers her excuse despite his reservations. "Mike is going to kill me," he mutters.
"If he’s possessed, we can always practice on him," she says cheerfully. "Then he might forget this whole mishap ever happened."
"That's not funny."
He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Oh, lighten up, Sam. I'll be there at seven. Let me know before then if you’re planning on backing out again." There’s a click on the other end of the line, and Sam flips his phone shut, heading back to Jess' room with a sigh.
Jess sits on the bed in her pajamas, flipping aimlessly through a magazine when he walks through the door. She looks up smiling, and his stomach clenches as he realizes just how far he’s falling for this girl.
"Hey," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss her. She tastes of peppermint.
"Hey yourself," she says quietly.
Her eyes ask the question she doesn't want to ask. He holds up his phone, offering the information. "Sorry - phone call. I didn't want to wake you."
"You finished?" She asks, tossing her magazine to the side, and Sam arches an eyebrow.
"Yes - why?"
Jess plucks the phone from his hand, placing it on the table next to her bed and grabs his hand, tugging him forward. "Then come back to bed."
He falls forward and she straddles his waist, tugging her shirt over her head. She leans down, sliding her hands under his t-shirt, running her fingernails gently down his skin, and he gasps, arching into the touch. He kisses her, and she grins against his lips.
"You know, you’re surprisingly easy, Winchester," she says, tugging on his shirt. He lets her pull it over his head, dropping it to the floor beside the bed. "I bet you let any floozy who flashes her rack get into bed with you."
Sam feels himself smiling despite his narrowed eyes, and she laughs as he grasps her hips, rolling them on the bed so she lies beneath him, pressed together from hips to chest. She's still giggling as he reaches up a hand to cup her cheek.
"Not just any floozy, Jess."
Her smile fades, and she swallows. He can feel her pulse speeding against his chest. "Sam-"
He cuts her off with a kiss, and she presses her lips harder against his, hand grasping at his neck through his hair. He lets her cling, catches her while she falls.
Jess slides a hand between them, working on the button on his jeans, and Sam finds himself taking her up on the previous night’s offer, blurting out everything he wanted to tell her before. Secrets and Sam Winchester have been synonymous for so long, he isn’t sure he knows how to open up to anyone anymore.
"Dean - it was his birthday yesterday, too. That’s why I was acting so weird at the bar."
"Sam, I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about your brother while I’m about to stick my hand down your pants." She attempts to sound offended, but a smile tugs at her lips as she snaps his waistband.
Sam laughs, throwing back his head and letting the sound carry to the ceiling. He hopes they can hear him next door, two floors above. He hopes the sound carries to the end of the world.
He hopes Dean and Dad can hear him.
-----
As predicted, Mike is less than thrilled when Sam calls to ask for another day off. He’s even less thrilled when Sam attempts to explain to him why, complete with faking a sick voice. He isn’t sure Mike buys his story - Dean always told him he was a crap liar.
"Kid, I saw the way your friend was falling all over you yesterday when you walked past, and you didn't even stumble, so you're either really good at faking it, or a really shitty liar." Sam cringes, and Mike grumbles, "Need to hire someone other than college students; they suck my money away."
"Mike, I swear I will make this up to you. I'll pull a double shift next weekend. The next two weekends."
"You bet your ass you will." Mike sighs heavily. "Sam, you’re lucky I like you. I’ve fired kids for less than this, but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and I don’t say that very often. Don’t screw up my opinion by dicking me over."
Sam exhales, grateful for the reprieve. "I won’t. Thanks Mike."
"Yeah, yeah," he says, hanging up. Sam shuts the phone and bangs his head against the wall. Don’t screw up. That sounds vaguely familiar. Sam isn't sure he's fond of the reminder.
"Hey, it's almost seven. You want a lift to work?" Sam opens his eyes. Jess stands next to his door with her jacket slung over her arm and her car keys in hand, as if she’s expecting him to say yes. He fights back the urge to wince, realizing he's going to have to lie to her, too and hating it twice as much.
"Jess, you're not my personal chauffeur," he says, rolling his eyes and grinning. "I have two legs, and the coffee shop isn't far. I can walk."
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Sam arches his eyebrow. "Why? You think I'll get lost or something?" He teases.
"Hey, you're the one who's always going on about being careful walking around at night alone, you can't be sure what lurks in the dark. This ringing any bells?" Sam throws her a dark look, and she huffs, "If you don’t want my company, all you have to do is say so." She tosses her keys to Zach's desk, and Sam stands up, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She presses back against him despite still pretending to be mad.
He presses a kiss to her neck. "Jesus, Jess, please don't turn into a girl on me."
She turns around, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You mean I wasn't a girl before? Someone should tell my boyfriend; that might explain his fascination with my breasts." He groans, face burning as he drops his head. She laughs.
"Wait," he says, voice muffled by her shoulder. He picks up his head so he can look at her. "Boyfriend?"
Jess bites her lip, realizing her slip. Sam can't help kissing her.
"You know," she says breathlessly against his mouth, "From your reaction I’m guessing you're not okay with this."
"Not even a little," he murmurs.
They don't talk about it anymore than that. It's the first time Sam Winchester doesn't talk something to death. Somehow, he's okay with that.
Ava waits downstairs, car idling in a corner of the parking lot. She drums her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as Sam pulls the door open.
"You're late," she says, barely giving Sam a chance to close his door before she turns the car around and out of the parking lot.
"Sorry," Sam mutters, "I was distracted."
Ava arches her eyebrow. "Distracted, huh?"
Sam can see the leer forming on her lips, the dirty joke about to come out, and he cuts her off at the pass. "So, where are we going?"
"Not far. There's an abandoned church about five miles outside of campus. I tracked a demon out there a couple of days ago."
"There is something seriously wrong with that," Sam grumbles offhandedly.
Ava rolls her eyes, not bothering to respond to the remark. She turns back to the road, humming along with the music, some song by AC/DC Sam thinks he should know but can't remember the words to. Dean played the damn tape so often, Sam's surprised he can't sing the songs in his sleep. He focuses on letting the music lull him calm, breathes deeply then zones everything out - Ava's slightly off-key humming, the steady thumping of the beat of the music, the wind passing by the open window. He closes his eyes and willingly falls into his power, a warm buzzing that rolls over his mind. Suddenly, he's aware of Ava beside him, her own power calling to his; he feels the demon not far off.
Ava smiles as he opens his eyes, awe-struck. "Told you so," she brags haughtily, pulling up a dirt road. As the church comes into view, Sam's skin prickles, soft warmth turning into something less pleasant. He isn't sure he likes the feeling so much anymore, but he ignores his apprehension, closing his door quietly as he gets out of the car.
"So, you never did tell me what made you change your mind," Ava says, face open and genuinely curious.
Sam shifts uncomfortably. "Nothing in particular," he mumbles. She grasps his arm as he takes a step forward.
"Bullshit, Sam. You were stuck on your high horse for months, you barely talked to me, and then suddenly, you have a complete change of heart. Something happened. What was it?"
Sam debates coming up with a suitable lie but isn't sure he could think of a convincing enough one on the fly. He sighs, relenting. "I had a vision last night. About Jess. I dreamed that she died."
"It could have just been a-"
"It wasn't just a dream," Sam snaps, equal parts amazed and amused that the one person in his life apart from this world didn't try to convince him otherwise. "I know the difference." He doesn't wake from dreams with debilitating headaches and the feeling like someone ripped his heart out.
"Okay, I'm sorry." She exhales, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Look, we'll figure this out, okay? Right now, I need you to focus." She points ahead of her, where the demon is entering the church. That unpleasant feeling clings to his skin, and he tries to breathe.
Sam nods. Focus. Ignore one problem for the issue at hand. He can do that. He was trained to do that.
He wonders what John would say if he could see him now.
Exorcising the demon is just as painfully difficult as before, a slow pressure sliding across his brain that builds until it all comes crashing down, bringing him to his knees. This time, though, the vision of Jess burning on the ceiling, screaming, dying, burns behind his eyelids, and he pushes through the pain, clenching his fingers until all of that pressure pushes outwards in one fell swoop. The demon screams, and Sam collapses, hands flat on the floor, head down, breathing heavily. He watches his blood drip down, red drops on dirty grey tile.
Sam shakes his head. The man's pulse is quick and steady beneath his shaking fingers. "You know the exact location of this place?"
"Sure, I asked the demon for his address right after we went out for drinks and exchanged pleasantries." Sam gives her as nasty a glare as he can muster, and she rolls her eyes. "I can guess the mile marker, yeah."
"Call 911. Give them an anonymous tip. Hang up before they ask your name."
"Then?" she asks, already dialing the number.
"Then, we get the hell out of dodge before they get here and start asking questions we don't know how to answer."
"Yeah, and I bet you want to rush home to Jess," Ava mutters as she dials, shooting Sam an arched eyebrow at his choked, "What?"
He waits until Ava hangs up the phone with the operator to make his annoyance at her lack of response known, glaring silently. Ava smirks. "You are a delicate flower, aren't you?" She laughs, staring back unblinkingly. "Oh, come on, Sam, I'm not stupid. I see the way you look at Jess, and so does everyone else. We all know you're sleeping with her, at the very least."
Ava heads towards the doors, and Sam follows, practically dragging his feet. He's way too exhausted for this, head still pounding out a drumbeat. "Ava, I-"
"If that's the beginning of an explanation or an apology, please. Spare me the details, and spare yourself the breath and energy. You're wasting your time." Sam drops his eyes, and Ava sighs, rolling her eyes to the sky. "I didn't mean it like that, Sam," she says, more gently. "It's okay. I know you didn't love me, and no offense, but I never loved you. We were having fun, right?"
Sam's head spins. He hears the words coming out of her mouth, but they don't quite compute entirely. "Yeah, I-I guess."
"Good," she chirps, throwing the door to her car open. "That said, if you break her heart, I'll happily destroy you."
-----
Sam feels like death warmed over when he arrives at his room, head pounding - again - every muscle aching like he was tossed around in a fight rather than sent a demon back to hell with his mind. Ava assures him those side effects will fade over time. At least his nose stopped bleeding. He sticks the key in the lock, not paying any attention as he closes the door behind him, which is why he's surprised when he turns to find Jess sitting on his bed, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed into a glare.
"Jess," he says, instantly wary of her mood, "Uh, hey." Sam's brow furrows. "How did you get in here?"
"Zach let me in on his way to pick up Emily. I wanted to be here when you came home." Her voice is monotone, a thread of fury lying just underneath.
Sam's confusion ratchets up a notch, and he takes a step towards her. "Is everything okay?"
Jess laughs and stands up, stalking towards him slowly. "Sure. Everything is peachy fucking keen. By the way, I stopped by your job tonight." Sam feels his stomach bottom out, heart falling through the floor. "I figured hey, maybe I could surprise Sam, give him a lift home. Well, imagine my surprise when your boss told me you called out sick."
Hunting or normal. You can't have both. Christ, more than anything, Sam hates when Dean is right.
"Jess-"
"No." Jess shakes her head once, hair snapping against her neck. "You listen to me, Sam Winchester. I can make excuses for a lot of things. The giant secrets involving your family - fine. You want to keep those close to the chest, go right ahead. You have a right to some privacy. But you do not lie to my face and expect me to just sit back and accept that you have your reasons." She steps towards him, and even in her anger, she looks achingly beautiful. "So if you expect this to work between us, you're going to fess up now, Sam. Right now. Where the hell were you?"
"I can't tell you," Sam whispers. When Jess' face falls, Sam feels something inside of him break. He finally understands why they moved around so much, why they were never allowed to get close to anyone but each other - because there was nothing on the other side but heartache.
Instead of letting the tears in her eyes fall or storming out like he expects her to, Jess brokenly whispers, "Why?"
"Because I can't get you involved in this, Jess!" Sam doesn't mean to yell, but his pent up frustration finally explodes in one single outburst that has her taking a step back. Sam closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he speaks again. "This world, my world... you can't be a part of it. I need you to be apart from it." He opens his eyes, pleading with her, "Jess, you don't - you can't understand. You are the one normal thing, untouched by everything else that's wrong with my life, and I can't-"
"Does this have to do with the deaths on campus?" She asks in the silence that follows his unfinished thought.
Sam breathes a quiet, "Yes," even though he desperately wishes he didn't want to answer.
She nods, stepping around him. She reaches for the doorknob and speaks with her hand in the air. “I'm not going anywhere. I want you to know that, but - maybe the only demons you’re chasing after are your own, Sam.”
Sam watches her leave then drops down on his bed, burying his face in his hands.
-----
Sam spends most of the next day moping in his room. He alternates between pacing and staring at the wall.
Might as well play some of that pathetic emo shit and cry yourself to sleep, he imagines Dean would say if he were here. He'd roll his eyes and drag Sam out of bed with good-natured jabs.
Sam sighs and stands, tugging his hands through his hair.
The vision hits him swiftly and without warning, and Sam grabs onto the back of his desk chair to keep from falling as pain lances across his brain, voices and images blurring in quick succession behind his eyes.
Roaring flames and Jess dying across the ceiling, whispering, "Sam."
Scrambling up the bed, screaming, “Jess!”and blood dripping down.
"Howdy Sam," and a flash of laughing yellow eyes.
Sam gasps for breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He squats down, leans against the seat of the chair, and lowers his head to his arms.
Zach finds him in the same position when he comes back to the room almost a half an hour later.
"Sam, dude, you okay?"
"Yeah, just… headache," he croaks, finally lifting his head. Zach frowns down at him suspiciously but grasps Sam under his arm, helping him to bed.
"Don’t do drugs, man," Zach says as Sam lies back, "That shit will fuck you up."
"Succinctly said, Zach."
"Can’t even stand up but he has enough super genius brain power to use the word succinct," Zach mutters disbelievingly. Sam closes his eyes and laughs, pressing his hands to his head to ward off the twinge from even that slight movement.
Sam fails to exorcise the demon that night. He puts it down to a lack of concentration, all of his attention currently elsewhere - on how to protect Jess and keep his vision from coming to fruition, how to talk to her without telling her everything; on Ava and how many people just like them there might still be out there, struggling with visions or powers of their own.
On what exactly this new power makes him. Is he still human or one of the monsters?
The thought, coupled with the stabbing pain in his head, brings him to his knees.
"Sam, come on," Ava says, and only then does he realize she's been talking to him. She puts a hand on his shoulder. "Stop."
Sam shoves her off, and the demon starts laughing.
Sam punches him in the jaw, sending him to his knees while he cackles. The silence continues to make Sam queasy, his neck prickling with the oddness, and he kicks the demon again, this blow glancing off of his ribcage. The sizzle of holy water across his face makes him practically giggle through his screams.
Ava doesn't comment when he bites out an exorcism, every word angry and raw as it leaves his throat.
She eyes him warily when the black smoke dissipates. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
"Nothing," Sam snaps, putting all of his fury in that single word, conveying a very obvious message - I do not want to talk about this, so back the hell off. He checks the man's neck. His pulse is thready, a bruise already forming along his cheekbone. Sam carefully assesses his ribs for damage, and the man groans. Nothing shifts - he'll be bruised and limping for a few days, but he'll live.
Ava arches an eyebrow in disbelief but doesn't back down. "Really? Because you just went full on Battle Royale on that demon, and I just want to make sure I don't have to break out the machete and start fighting for my life."
Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Jess and I had a fight." Ava blinks and waves her hand impatiently for him to continue. "I told her I went to work last night, and she found out I was lying. She's pretty pissed."
Ava waits a few beats before prompting him, "And you're angry because..."
"She wants me to tell her the truth, Ava!" Sam paces across the floor, hands shoved deep in his pockets to stop from punching a wall to further vent his frustration. "But how can I? How do I tell her I'm off - what? Learning how to exorcise demons with my fucking mind? Seeing her die every night in my dreams and now while I’m awake, too?"
"Well when you put it that way, yeah, you sound insane."
"Not helping," Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his face. He looks to Ava expectantly, like she has all of the answers.
She stares at him wide-eyed. "What do I look like, Dr. Phil?"
Sam sputters, "But you-"
"Dude, chill out. I'm kidding. Look maybe you can tell her the truth." Sam shoots her a look of complete exasperation. "Okay, fine, so keep your secrets. Because that leads to a long and healthy relationship." Ava sighs. "Just... tell her as much as you're comfortable revealing, Sam. And you know a nice 'I'm sorry' wouldn't hurt either." She walks towards the door and pauses, pointing towards his chest. "You might want to clean up first though."
Sam looks down, sees the blood on his shirt and sighs. That, at least, is something familiar.
After returning to campus and pulling on the first clean shirt he finds in his closet, Sam knocks on Jess' door. She almost slams it back in his face when she sees who is on the other side.
Sam holds the door open with his foot, pleading, "Jess, wait, please - hear me out."
Jess huffs, crossing her arms, but swings the door open nonetheless, ushering him inside.
"I'm sorry," he says. She arches an eyebrow, and he takes that as a positive sign to continue. "I shouldn't have lied to you, and I know that. I don't have any excuses, and I know I was wrong. And I'm sorry."
Jess bites her lip, tapping her foot against the ground. He knows that face - the pursed lips and calculating eyes. The icy calm that comes before the torrential storm. She'll hold all of her emotions inside until she explodes - like Dean. Sam has to let her get everything out of her system until she burns out. With Dean, that usually involves a punch to the face.
"You think you can just waltz in here with an 'I'm sorry' and make it all okay?" Jess practically screeches, and Sam winces, wondering if Jess plans on punching him, too. "You’ll have to do better than that, Sam, because I'm not that kind of gi-"
Sam cuts her off with a kiss, hands winding in her hair. She doesn't respond at first, lips unmoving and hands hanging limply at her sides. He softly strokes his thumb along the base of her neck and feels her shiver before surging forward with a gasp, fingers tugging him forward by the collar of his shirt. She pushes him back against the door, molding herself against him, and she laughs breathlessly.
"Okay," she concedes, "Maybe I am that kind of girl." She trails her mouth across his jaw, nipping his neck near his collar. "This shirt is hideous by the way," she breathes.
Sam laughs, leaning down to kiss her shoulder. Jess strokes a hand through his hair.
"I don't want to keep anything from you, Jess," he whispers, "But some things I have to keep to myself."
"Every secret comes out, eventually, Sam. Whether on your own terms or kicking and screaming - they always come out." Jess cups his cheek in her hand, eyes boring into his. "The question is can you accept the consequences either way?"
Instead of saying anything, Sam kisses her - because she's there, she's not leaving, and because he already knows the painful answer to that question.
-----
Sam spends the better part of the three weeks following the accidental reveal at Bobby's trying to talk to Dean. His brother avoids him, throwing himself into hunts with their father with renewed vigor, enough that even John notices something is causing a rift between his two sons. He doesn't ask questions, though, doesn't complain. Sam wonders if John thinks a little distance might be good for them. Just one more thing he and his father disagree on.
The radio silence continues until Dean stumbles back to the Impala, Dad’s arm tight around his waist holding him upright, His arms are huddled across his midsection, his shirt soaked with blood. Sam is laid up with a twisted ankle - a stupid mistake, a rookie mistake, felled by a damn tree root of all things. Dean hefted him up by the shoulder and dragged him out of the woods, checked his gun before running off blindly back into the night.
Sam hisses, dragging Dean into the passenger seat, pushing his hands out of the way so he can examine the wound. There's too much blood, and Sam chokes back blind panic.
"We got 'im this time, 'is just a scratch, Sammy," Dean slurs; Sam shrugs out of his flannel and presses the shirt against the wound while John starts the car.
"From Fido the angry werewolf? My ass." John drives furiously down the highway, and Sam bites his lip to stop himself from begging him to drive faster, damn it.
The Impala skids into the spot in front of the apartment, and Sam jumps out of the car, ignoring the throbbing pain in his ankle as he helps John heave Dean inside. They rush off in opposite directions after setting Dean down on his bed, John to the kitchen, Sam to the bathroom across the hall.
Dean groans as Sam comes back with the First Aid kit. He sits, steadying his fingers as he cuts Dean's shirts off and pushes them out of the way. No saving them now. He cleans out the wound gingerly so three long slashes come into view, clear across the right side of Dean's ribcage, angry, red and still seeping blood.
"Fuck, Dean, man," Sam says, but he bites his lip, glaring when John enters the room, plying Dean with whiskey and pain killers. Dean takes the pills and the glass, tossing both back without comment.
He groans, head lolling back onto Sam's shoulder. "Fucking A, that hurts like a motherfucker."
"Thought it was just a scratch," Sam comments, lips quirking as he carefully maneuvers Dean on the bed, lying down on his side with his face turned towards the wall.
"Fuck you," Dean says, voice garbled. Sam rolls his eyes.
John reaches for the needle in the kit, but Sam snatches it up.
"I got it," he grumbles, picking up the suture thread.
John sighs and Sam grits his teeth because Jesus, is his father going to fight him on this, too? "Sam-"
"I said I got it," Sam snaps, slamming the kit shut with finality.
He forces himself to close his brother's wounds, following the needle in and out of skin and tying off the thread. He waits until Dean falls asleep then traces the tiny, neat stitches with a fingertip, reminding himself of exactly why he's leaving. He tries not to think of what he almost lost - of everything he's about to lose.
-----
Sam wakes with a gasp, dragging shaking hands across his face. Jess rolls over, throwing a leg over his, her arm across his stomach. She's here; she's safe, not pinned to the ceiling exploding into flames reflecting off of yellow eyes. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head and go back to sleep.
He exorcises another demon that night. The woman doesn't make it.
Sam tries to feel sorry about that, but he can't.
-----
Jess is quiet from the moment she wakes up in the morning, an instant indicator to Sam that something is awry. She kicks him out of her room with a literal kick in the ass, telling him to get dressed and meet her at her car in an hour.
"And wear something nice!" she shouts, making Sam roll his eyes and sigh.
The trees pass by in their usual blur of brown and green, white and yellow lines disappearing in a blur into the blacktop. Eventually, the usual road markers fade away, leaving Sam without landmarks to follow, for a moment feeling like a boat without an anchor.
"Jess," Sam says, glancing out the window, brow furrowed at the unfamiliar passing highways, "Where are we going?"
Jess' eyes flit nervously to his, fingers twitching along the steering wheel before she turns her attention back out the windshield. "I remember you said you never had a real birthday party before."
Sam startles. That wasn't what he meant, exactly - Dad was often hunting, birthdays and Christmases passing by without so much as a passing mention, but Dean always remembered, always celebrated, even if it was with something as small as a Hostess cupcake with a single candle stuck through the middle. That was always enough. Sam cherishes those memories more than he would any birthday party.
Sam swallows, shaking his head as he stares at Jess. "Jess. Tell me you didn't."
Jess gives him one of those blindingly familiar grins that make his stomach flutter like a damn teenager with his first crush. She pulls into an unfamiliar driveway behind Ava's car. "Ava's parents are gone for the weekend. She volunteered her house."
"Jess-"
"Sam," she turns to him, eyes wide, earnest and determined, "Just let me do this for you without complaint. Please."
Sam sighs but opens his door, stepping out without another word. He hears Jess' door slam closed and her shoes clicking across the cement before she appears in front of him. She kisses him, soft, slow and lazy, like there isn't a party just up the stairs being thrown for him. He doesn't mind - he could stay here all night wrapped up in her.
"Thank you," she breathes, pressing one last kiss to his lips before trailing her hand down his arm. She grasps his hand, tugging on his fingers so she can drag him into the house.
A wave of familiarity sweeps over Sam as soon as he steps through the doorway. Through warm greetings, hugs and handshakes, he tries to shake off the feeling that he's been here before, though he has never stepped foot in Ava's house in his life. He stares at the simple floral wallpaper, eyes drawn up to the intricate patterns on the white ceiling and suppresses a shudder.
"Hey," Sam snaps his head down as Ava snaps her fingers in front of his face to get his attention, "You okay?"
Sam shakes his head and pastes on a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Why doesn't the birthday boy have a drink?" Zach throws his arm around Sam's shoulders, already tipsy. Sam rolls his eyes but takes the beer Zach offers, clinking his bottle with Zach's before taking a long sip, trying to calm his jittery nerves. He has no reason to be anxious.
As if sensing he needs the reassurance, Jess squeezes his hand before letting Ava drag her off into the crowd.
"Winchester!" Brady shouts from across the room and Sam and Zach both roll their eyes. Emily smothers her laughter with her cup.
The party is already in full swing when Sam feels the familiar pressure building behind his eyes. He shakes his head, ignoring it, going back to chatting with Brady.
The pain keeps building, an almost audible thrum that speaks clearly as words. Something's coming.
He cuts his conversation short, giving Brady an apologetic glance as he drops his beer on the table. "Sorry, I have to do something," he says in one breath, quickly making his way through the house, desperate to find Ava. She stands between Becky and Jess in the kitchen, laughing between words; her head snaps up, laughter trailing off as soon as Sam skids into the room. He has enough time to shoot her a wary glance before all hell breaks loose.
Emily runs into the house screaming, dragging Zach through the back door, his shirt torn and bloody. Zach groans under her hands.
Jess gasps, and Sam rushes forward, dropping to his knees beside Emily. Ava shoves the stunned and gasping bystanders to the side, trying to give Zach room to breathe. She holds a near-hysterical Becky back by her arms.
"What happened?" Sam asks, eyes quickly scanning the room for something to stop the bleeding. "Jess," he yells, "Toss me the paper towels."
Jess is frozen, eyes wide and frightened. She shakes herself, grabbing the roll of paper towels off of the counter and handing them to Sam with shaking hands.
"He just attacked us from out of nowhere," Emily says frantically, while Sam puts pressure on the wound across his left side, trying to stop the bleeding. "We were just talking and then this guy came up behind us and..."
She hesitates; Sam moves to place a gentle hand on her arm, then stops when he realizes his hands are covered in Zach's blood. "And what? Emily?"
Emily bites her lip and whispers, "And his eyes were all wrong."
Sam feels cold all over. "Like black?"
She nods, the movements jerky. Sam quickly strips off his outer shirt, giving it to Emily. "Use this to staunch the blood. If it soaks through, use more of the paper towels, but keep pressure on the wound." He turns to Ava. "Get them out of here."
"What are you going to do?" Sam doesn't answer Ava; he turns and grimly heads for the back door, ignoring Jess' panicked shout of "Sam!" at his back. Becky helps Emily carefully lift Zach; Ava herds everyone towards the front of the house, practically dragging Jess out by her waist.
The house is too quiet, even with the music from the stereo still pounding out a thrumming, continuous baseline in the background. Sam walks up the stairs slowly, dread pooling in his stomach. That familiar brush of power slithers over his skin when he hears the scream from downstairs. He turns, pushing his legs as fast as they can possibly move, adrenaline coursing through his veins making the speed of his heart match the pulsing of the pressure at the back of his head.
Brady lies dead in the doorway of the dining room, his neck turned the wrong way. Ava stands crying on the other side of the table, sobbing almost uncontrollably, her hands over her mouth. Sam crosses the room in two strides, reaching to shake her shoulders.
"Ava, what happened?"
"He wouldn't leave," she babbles as Sam tries to soothe her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "I tried to get him out but he wouldn't leave."
"I would have taken care of him, Ava, you shouldn't have-" Sam pauses, his movements freezing, and he pulls his hands back from Ava slowly. "There was only one demon. And he never came inside."
"There must have been another one."
"I don't think so. Either way, Brady's not suicidal. Everyone was running for the front door - why would he run for the back?"
Ava's eyes flit around the room, panic-stricken. Sam's stomach clenches, heart thudding in his throat, that constant push-pull of pressure still rising at the back of his mind. "Ava!"
Ava sighs, wiping her eyes dramatically with a smile. "I really had you going there, didn't I?" Sam takes a step back, almost tripping over Brady. "Oh, Sam, help me, I'm just a poor defenseless girl who can't fight off a demon." She holds her hands clasped to her chest in mock-horror and rolls her eyes. "Honestly, did you really believe that bullshit I fed you? I thought you hunters were supposed to be less naive than that."
"Christo," Sam intones instantly and Ava barks a laugh.
"Seriously? Big damn hero, and that’s all you’ve got in your arsenal?"
Sam swallows down his rising terror. "What are you?"
"Me? I'm not a demon, Sam, not a creature from the black lagoon. I'm just like you," she says, and the double echo of their first conversation makes him grind his teeth together. He should have seen this coming, trusted his instincts that first night in the abandoned house that told him to run, keep Ava at arm’s length and never look back. Sometimes, gut instincts are far more powerful tools than months of hard research and all of the guns in your arsenal combined.
Fuck, but if Sam makes it out of here alive, Dean will kill him anyway for being such a goddamn idiot. Christ, he wishes Dean were here at his back. With no weapons and no idea what aces Ava has up her sleeve, he's just as well as screwed.
Still, he defiantly spits out, "You are nothing like me."
Ava barks out a laugh. "Bullshit, Sam. I didn't give you the keys to the kingdom. All I had to do was tell you how to unlock the door, and you took the bait like a fish on a hook. All of that power, all of that rage - don't tell me you don't love every single second."
"The demons. You don't just feel them out, you control them."
Ava shrugs, stepping over Brady's body as she rounds the table, carefully avoiding the blood pooling under his body. "Yeah, well, I have to round them up somehow. Didn't want them getting mouthy, though, that might break your concentration."
While Ava speaks with her back turned, Sam edges his way towards the door, fingers sliding along the cracks and creases of the wood for the doorknob. Ava waves her hand behind her, and the door flies closed, making Sam jump forward almost on top of Brady.
"Cool your heels, tiger," she says, back still turned. "I can't let you go just yet."
Sam’s fingers clench and flex at his side. "What are you talking about?"
"You have your reasons for being here. I have mine. Don't you get it?" Ava spins, a manic gleam in her eyes making them stand out wide and dark in the shadows of the room. He could almost convince himself she's a demon, but holy water and an exorcism of any kind will do him no good. She's still human.
"It was always about you, Sam," Ava says, her voice strangely reverent, "How do you think I found you so easily? Think it was serendipity? A happy coincidence? No. I was sent to find you."
"From who?"
"Is that really what you need to be worrying about right now?" Ava smiles angelically, the expression out of place on her face. She glances up at the ceiling before slowly, leeringly lowering her eyes back at Sam. He freezes in place as all of the puzzle pieces lock together.
The pattern of the wallpaper. The whorls of the design on the ceiling. Sam feels like his legs have been yanked from under him when the stab of familiarity coupled with the faint, acrid smell of smoke on the air suddenly becomes crystal clear.
"Weigh your options carefully, Sam. You can stay here and we can rumble, or we can see how fast you run when all of your dreams are coming true."
The door swings open of its own accord. He hears Ava murmur, "Good choice," but his legs are already carrying him out of the room and up the stairs two at a time. By the time he reaches the second floor, the air reeks of smoke. He coughs, covering his mouth, following the pungent, grey air into one of the bedrooms. His legs feel weighed down, made of lead when the room comes up stiflingly hot and empty.
Sam tries to fight the urge, but he can't help glancing up.
It's a scene out of his nightmares. Jess lies on the ceiling, arms out at her sides, hair fanned out around her head. A slash across her stomach drips blood onto the floor, and flames already lick at her hair and her white dress. She opens her mouth, no sound coming out but a hoarse, "Sam."
"Jess!" Sam yells, standing on the bed and reaching a hand up, just this once wishing he was taller because he can't. "Jess!"
He hears a voice screaming his name in the background, one that sounds like Dean, but he has to be imagining it, his shocked mind conjuring things that aren't real.
"Howdy Sam."
Ava's voice is too deep, and her eyes flash yellow, more than just a reflection of the flames. Sam slowly climbs off of the bed, backing towards the window.
He's seen this before.
"You," he says quietly, and the demon smiles.
"Thought you forgot about me, Sammy." The demon walks slowly around the bed, the flames licking the walls, the ceiling. Sam circles slowly, always keeping him in his sights. "This worked out far better than I ever could have planned. Ava was so easy to bend and twist. Humans usually are. Just push the right buttons, flick the right switches and bang!" He claps his hands together and Sam jumps. "They're eating right out of the palm of your hand." He glares, settling that yellow-eyed gaze on Sam. "Except you. I told you I would be coming for you some day, but you were a stubborn thorn in my side even as a child. Couldn't just settle into hunting and hone your skills like a good little soldier. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
"What are you talking about?" Sam whispers.
"What did you think would happen when you left your Daddy, Sam? Thought you would eventually settle down, become some hot-shot lawyer? Two point five kids and a dog, white picket fence?" He approaches Sam, and Sam steps back as his voice drops. "You are so much more than that." He gestures to the ceiling. "Why do you think I killed Goldilocks?"
"You son of a bitch." Sam's hands clench into fists, the pressure at the back of his mind building, pushing forward.
"Good, let all of that rage build, Sammy. Show me what you got." He grins. "Ava's rather anxious to know as well, let me tell you. She finds the whole situation rather amusing."
The pressure at the back of his mind surges like the rising noise of static from a broken television. Sam throws out his hand, lashing all of his power outward. His head explodes instantly, the agony almost unbearable. He clenches his fingers; the demon stumbles. Sam feels blood dripping down his chin, tastes it across his lips, but he doesn't back down.
He hears the door slam open and a hoarse cry of "Sam!" followed by what sounds like a body slamming against the wall as the demon flicks his wrist.
Dean, he thinks and that single second loss of concentration is enough to drive him to his knees with a hoarse cry of pain.
The demon laughs harsh and low. "You were not invited, Dean-o," he says, waving his hand again. "Zip it." Sam hears Dean struggling behind him and a choking sound.
All Sam sees is yellow eyes as the demon leans down to whisper in his ear, "You can't kill me, Sam. I made you who you are." Sam's chest heaves with every breath he takes; he says nothing in reply. The demon stands, shaking out Ava’s jacket around him and winks. "See you soon."
Sam pushes himself to his knees as the demon disappears but his head feels like someone took a sledgehammer to his brain, turning everything to mush. Self-preservation tells him to stay down, stay low, keep breathing, but his arms shake, vision flickering at the edges. A body smacks against the floor, choking on thinner air, and for a fleeting, hopeful moment, Sam thinks Jess.
"Sam!" Dean shouts, dragging himself across the floor. He shakes Sam violently by the shoulders. "Sammy!"
Sam closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him.
-----
Sam opens his eyes to a room that's too quiet. He strains his ears, listening for even the faintest of noises - Dean snoring like a chainsaw, Dad in the kitchen, the clink of the guns quietly tapping against the table as he cleans them. Familiar sounds of comfort, home.
The room remains silent, nothing but the wind passing through the open window, where a man stands with his back turned.
"Dad?" Sam whispers, and the man laughs quietly.
"Not quite, Sammy. Although all things considered, I could probably make a good contest for the job." The man turns, and Sam freezes, hugging his sheets to his chest. The man has yellow eyes. Salt around the door and windows, knife under his pillow, gun under Dean's, shotgun by the door - nothing should be able to get in. He's safe. He's safe. He glances at his brother's bed, feeling cold all over.
Oh, God, where's Dean?
"You and I are going to be great friends some day," the man says, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. He smiles, and the yellow of his eyes reflects the fire licking his skin, crawling outwards. The flames climb the walls, blood drips from the ceiling onto Sam’s bed, and he screams.
When he wakes up, he doesn't stop.
-----
When Sam comes to, he sees red.
His eyes are unfocused, head slumping against someone's shoulder. Through bleary eyes, he sees flames licking the sky, crackling through wood and timber.
Sam flails, shoving against the person holding him up and tries to rush forward. The set of hands around his waist is firm and unyielding; his legs still feel like jelly, brain just about ready to explode out of his head.
"Sammy, come on, dude, don't do this to me now. I got you, just take it easy."
The familiar voice crosses over the raging panic and the burn of power still flowing through his veins. He pushes feebly against his brother because oh, God, Jess and just let me go, I can save her, please Dean-
"Sam," his father says, that one word laced with more understanding than Sam thinks he's heard from John in his entire lifetime. His head throbs, the pressure still building behind his eyes. Sam forces it back, choking on the motion and finally stops struggling. He sags against Dean, squeezing his eyes shut. He refuses to let the tears fall.
Sam tips his head back against the Impala, the metal cold against the back of his neck. Dean's hands are warm and solid against his shoulders. The air smells of smoke, of destruction, his entire life going up in flames.
The fire continues to burn.
Soundtrack and Art
Author's Notes
This fic started with the very first flashback over a year ago. I had a title (which I would eventually scrap), a very general idea for a plot - people know about the supernatural and who the Winchesters are and Sam still leaves for college - and got stuck two sentences into Sam showing up on Stanford's campus. I wrote scenes periodically after that - Luis' death and a number of the later scenes surrounding Jess' birthday. The rest of the plot came later, and after that, it just sort of flowed.
I went through at least six titles before I settled on "Nothing As" (just ask dream_mancer, and I didn't even tell her all of them) - sitting on the train on my way home from work, the lyrics smacked me in the face with all of the subtlety of a baseball bat and I think I actually said "Holy shit" out loud. My entire fic was summed up in one three and a half minute song that I already loved.
This was one of the hardest fics for me to write, but also the one I am most proud of.
Acknowledgements
vengefuldemon69, thank you so much for all of the amazing art. The soundtrack was a true collaboration, and I am still in love with that picture of Sam remembering Dean ♥
darkmerrick, thank you for pointing out all of my glaring characterization and grammar issues and for taking the time out of your crazy busy life to help me :)
selu, you have been with me on this fic since it's inception cheering me on the entire way, letting me flail and panic at regular intervals. I never would have completed this without you ♥
dream_mancer, my Brain Twin... dude, I don't even know what to say to you. You deserve some sort of medal for putting up with all of my crap the past couple of months, and that's on top of big bangs of your own. I'm sorry the tense made your brain explode, but look - I CAN learn the i before e rule! ;)
Last but not least, thank you to wendy and thehighwaywoman for hosting such an amazing challenge. I had a blast participating :D