voice of rage and ruin, part 1 of ?
Title: Voice of Rage and Ruin
Author: confetticas
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Angst and drama with a sprinkling of humor every once in awhile. Eventual girl!Sam/Gabriel and Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: through season 5 in a roundabout way
Warnings: alwaysagirl!Sam, language
Word Count: 2753 for this part, 3940 so far
Summary: When Samantha Winchester is six years old, she wakes up just in time to see her brother be kidnapped by two men who glow so bright it hurts. Her entire life changes in an instant.
Voice of Rage and Ruin
Part One: July - October 2002
"Dad, I am nineteen years old," Sam complains exasperatedly, swiping a strand of hair out of her face and grimacing in frustration. "I really don't think I need Uncle Bobby to babysit me!"
John quirks an eyebrow at her and doesn't comment.
Sam shifts uncomfortably and mumbles, "Sorry."
"I just want you safe," John eventually explains, gruffly. "And I know you, kiddo. You're as pigheaded as I am. I leave you on your own, you're going to track me down and force me to let you help on this. I can't have that happen, Sammy," he says, considerably more gentle than Sam ever expects from her father in any situation. "I have to know that you're safe. I can't lose you, too."
"So, what then?" Sam asks, blowing out a heavy sigh. "I'm supposed to stay at Bobby's and do absolutely nothing until you find the demon or it finds you?"
John shakes his head in frustration. "This is not a debate, Sam."
Sam slumps back into her seat and stares out the window unhappily. This is completely ridiculous. She's a grown woman, for Christ's sake, a grown woman and a fully capable hunter who certainly does not need to be babysat by her surrogate uncle. Especially when one notes that the last time she saw said uncle, he was chasing her father off of his property at gun point. Evidently all it takes to repair near-murder in a friendship is one three minute phone call. On the bright side, she supposes, Bobby's pretty much her father's polar opposite and she'll have a little while to live without a drill sergeant.
...who is she kidding? Sam probably isn't going to have a clue what to do with herself without someone barking orders in her face all the time.
"How long?" she breaks the silence about a half hour later.
John glances over at her and then returns his gaze to the empty highway in front of them. "As long as it takes, Sammy," he answers sternly. "And before we get there, I want your word you aren't going to start slacking on your training just because you aren't actively hunting."
Right, of course he does, because he wouldn't dare ask for it in front of Bobby. The old man would probably send him off at gunpoint again. "Yessir," she answers, because regardless of Uncle Bobby's opinion on the matter, it's how she was raised and she honestly doesn't know any other life - nor can she say that she truly wants to know any other life.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"What're you doing?" Bobby asks her gruffly, staring in bemusement at Sam as she sits on his couch in her pajamas, watching TV and snacking on popcorn that looks like it has enough butter in it to send a healthy man straight into a heart attack.
Sam grins at her surrogate uncle, "Peaceful protest," she answers promptly.
Bobby quirks an eyebrow, "I wouldn't want to be you when your father hears about that."
"I wouldn't want to be Dad when I get my hands on him for making me stay here for three months so far, with no word and absolutely nothing to do," Sam retorts grouchily.
Bobby rolls his eyes and walks over to his desk, picking up a thin folder and dropping it on her lap. "Go do your training and them come read that," he grumbles at her, and then heads into the kitchen for coffee.
Sam stares at the folder on her lap for a minute and then shrugs and starts to open it.
"Training first," Bobby barks from the kitchen, and then, "Idjit!"
Sam rolls her eyes and wonders when, exactly, her uncle became a convert of John Winchester Parenting 101. Regardless, an order is an order, so Sam forces herself to get up heads outside to complete her morning workout. An hour later she comes back into the house, covered in sweat and smiling slightly because seriously? John isn't the one who suffers when she skips her workout - she actually tends to enjoy her lifestyle.
For a moment she considers just plopping back down on the couch and reading the file, but then she gets a good whiff of herself and wrinkles her nose in distaste, deciding on a shower first.
Finally dressed and showered, she plops onto the couch and picks up the file, her eyes widening in delight as she realizes it's information on a hunt. "Are you serious?" she asks, bounding into the kitchen, grinning widely in excitement.
"Yeah, yeah," Bobby rolls his eyes. "You keep in frequent contact, understand?"
"Yessir," Sam answers brightly, bouncing on her heels. "Oh," her face falls. "How'm I gonna go anywhere? I don't have a car."
Bobby scoffs. "Where do you think you are, Sam? I have a car for you. Been workin' on it for awhile, was supposed to be your birthday present but it took longer than I thought."
Sam blinks, shocked. "Thank you," she blurts, flabbergasted.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
It's a perfectly restored black '67 Camaro SS. Sam's in love with it, and Bobby endures the bear hug she gives him with practiced affectionate patience. Less than a full hour after Bobby shows her the car, she's on the road headed for her hunt, which isn't even close to her first solo hunt but is the first solo hunt she's gone on without Dad telling her to do so. Honestly, it feels a little awkward, but she's been cooped up in Bobby's house with nothing but research to do for three months now, so she'll happily take what she can get.
And it gives her the opportunity to renew her search for Dean - no Dad to tell her sadly that he's dead and she's wasting time and resources, no Bobby to look sad and bitter and mutter insults to Dad under his breath. Just her, the open road, a few hunts and the ability to finally find her brother.
He's alive, Sam knows he is. She can feel it in her bones. She can't explain it, but she would know if he was dead and he's not. Dean's out there somewhere, and she is going to find her big brother if it's the last thing she does.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Sam's sitting in her car in a parking lot outside of a church that she suspects is genuinely haunted when her phone rings. She stares at it like it's an alien for almost a minute because she hasn't heard this ringtone in months. It's BOC's Fire of Unknown Origin because in her eyes that's always been her father's song. "Dad?" she asks, shocked as she answers the phone.
"Hey kiddo," John answers gruffly. "I hear you've been going on hunts for Bobby?"
Sam closes her eyes. Jesus. Of friggin' course. Just wonderful. "Yessir," she answers quietly.
"Good girl," John answers, and Sam's eyes snap open in surprise. "I got a hunt for you. You on a job right now?"
"Haunted church," Sam answers, "But it's mostly abandoned and not really that urgent, if you have one that's more emergent."
"It can wait," John answers. "Finish that one up and I'll text you the coordinates."
"Yessir," Sam confirms, grinning ear-to-ear. Fine, he may not be letting her help him get revenge for Mom, but he's trusting her to hunt on her own and keep herself safe and that's like a miracle in her eyes.
John doesn't say anything for a minute and then he says, "Pretty sure it's a Trickster, so be on your guard, Sammy. You remember what happened the last time I ran into one."
It'd only been a few months after they'd left the town Dean had disappeared from, so Sam hadn't been old enough yet to actually go on hunts with her father, but she remembers Dad coming home, shaking and looking absolutely devastated so much that the bruises all over his body were almost irrelevant to the emotional pain he'd been in. Sam remembers, she'll never be able to forget. "I'll be careful," she promises sincerely.
"All right. I'll text you the coordinates in a bit. Bye, Sammy."
"Bye, Dad," Sam answers and hangs up, with decidedly mixed feelings. Excitement and pride that Dad's evidently changed his mind and now trusts her to hunt completely without him, anxiety over hunting a Trickster, and renewed determination to find Dean and hopefully fix some of the damage done to her father's psyche.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Sam manages to finish up the hunt for the vengeful spirit that night, and right about the time she drops onto her bed, absolutely exhausted, her phone signals a text, which turns about to be the coordinates from John, complete with the order of 'ASAP.' She knows it's an order even through a text because honestly, her Dad doesn't say all that much that isn't an order. Sam groans miserably and forces herself to get back up, throwing what few things have been removed from her bags back into her bags and heading for the car.
The Trickster hunt doesn't turn out to be all that far away from where she already is, so she consoles herself with the knowledge that she can always just drive out there tonight, check into a motel and worry about the hunt in the morning.
It doesn't end up all that brilliantly, she spends the night tossing and turning to remembered nightmares of the not-men taking her big brother, of the horror of knowing he let them take him to spare her from their attention. Of all the things that could be happening to her brother, the things they could've done to him and...
She gives up on sleep at about three A.M. and instead starts in on her research for the hunt. It turns out to be at least partially simple, all of the (increasingly bizarre, and if Sam's completely honest, increasingly amusing, as horrible as it is) events have taken place in or around a single building of the community college.
Somewhat halfheartedly, Sam stakes out the building, sitting in her car with the seat laid back as far as it goes and a bottle of, as Uncle Bobby tends to call it, 'hunter's helper' in the other seat. Despite the strong temptation, she isn't actually drinking, she figures she'll save that for when she's done here because no matter how bad of a day she's having, she isn't a complete idiot.
If her father were there to see it, he'd be fuming mad and Sam'd be running laps until she dropped, but as luck has it, he's not here and so Sam's not really paying attention, lost in thoughts of her brother and what she can possibly do to find him after all these years. She's been sitting there for about a half an hour when something catches her gaze and she shoots up in the seat, yanking her keys out of the ignition and running towards it, no matter how reckless or dangerous that may be. This man, he - no, he's not a man, Sam knows better - but whatever he is, he isn't a Trickster... he glows just like the not-men who took Dean, except stronger and brighter and more, and the wings, there are more, and they're even more majestic.
"Hey," she calls out, coming to a stop a few feet in front of him.
The not-man turns to her in confusion. "Yes, miss?" he asks politely.
Sam sees that he's a janitor and barely holds back a snort of amusement at using that as a cover. "I - can I ask you a couple of questions?" she asks, and doesn't bother flashing her forged reporter ID. No, this conversation is best had with honesty, as much of it as she can bear. This is the first real lead she's ever had on Dean in all of her years of searching.
"About what?" the not-man asks curiously. "The deaths?"
"Nope," Sam says with forced cheer. "Don't give a crap about that anymore, I need to talk to you privately."
"Anymore?" the not-man asks, quirking an eyebrow.
Sam shrugs, "They were why I was here, before I saw you, but I'm willing to let it go if you'll talk to me," she's only slightly aware of the fact that she's nearly begging him.
"You're a hunter," he deduces with a roll of his eyes.
"Yes," Sam says impatiently, "But not right now. Right now I don't care, do whatever the hell you want to as many assholes as you want, just tell me what you are," she pleads.
His eyebrows lift in bewilderment. "Well, Miss..." he pauses in thought. "Winchester? I'm a trickster. More specifically, Loki."
Sam scoffs, frustrated. "You are not a Trickster," she insists desperately. "I've seen and dealt with my fair share of Pagans, Loki, and you are definitely not one of them. I know this because I can see you, so please, tell me what you are."
"That's an interesting story, Samantha," Loki says thoughtfully. "Why exactly is it that you're so desperate to hear what I am, then?"
Sam closes her eyes in pained exasperation and finally murmurs, softly, "When I was six years old, I was alone in a motel room with my big brother. I woke up to see him fighting with two not-men, and they glowed just like you, had wings just like you - he was fighting them with everything he had and when he saw that I was awake, he quit, and let them take him, just to spare me. I know he's alive," she insists vehemently. "My dad, he gave up a long time ago, but I just - I can tell, I know. He's alive. He's out there, somewhere."
Loki's eyes widen as Sam tells her story, and he looks absolutely enraged as she finishes.
"What are you?" Sam asks again, desperate.
Loki sighs. "Nothing you or any other human stand a chance of fighting against," he murmurs. "I'm an angel, Samantha. To be more specific, I'm the archangel Gabriel."
Sam's eyes widen, because it's not like she's never had the thought - hello, wings - but she's never really wanted to believe it was possible. "Why - why would angels kidnap my brother?" she asks, a little bit brokenly.
"Because they're self-righteous bastards who don't care even a little about anyone but themselves," Gabriel informs her bitterly. "Because your brother is - and you're right, he's alive, I would have felt it if he died - the archangel Michael's true Vessel. They probably intended to brainwash him and make him a proper little slave when they took him."
Sam bites her tongue against a flow of tears, because she's closer than she's ever been, so close she can taste it - she is going to get her brother back, one way or the other. Then, curiously, she asks, "Why are you hiding out as a Trickster, then?"
"For one, I don't agree with overbearing stupidass moves like the one that involved taking your brother," Gabriel explains unhappily. "But mostly, I got fed up with watching my brothers fight and kill each other. I couldn't take it, and they wouldn't listen to reason, wouldn't stop, so I left and I hid out here on Earth."
Sam considers that for a minute and feels horrible for asking but has to try, "Can you help me?"
Gabriel looks furious. "Normally, my answer would be no, I won't take the risk that they find me - but they crossed a line here. He was still a kid, he didn't need to be dragged into their bullshit. Yeah, Samantha, I'll help you as much as I can."
"Really?" Sam perks up, disbelieving and hopeful.
"Yeah," Gabriel nods, smiling slightly at her enthusiasm. "Really."
"Thank you so much!" Sam blurts appreciatively. "So, where do we start? What can I do?"
Gabriel chuckles, "Well, to start, I'm going to feel out a few contacts, and you're going to keep doing what you do."
Sam frowns. "There isn't anything I can do to help find him?"
"Not yet," Gabriel answers honestly. "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll stick around a bit so that I can keep you updated."
Sam beams. "Thank you," she repeats, and then, even though it's probably totally crossing the line, she hugs him. "Thank you so much."
Gabriel chuckles and endures the hug with an exasperated expression and amused glint in his eyes.
Part Two Here