Story 3A of The Abaddon Series
Title: What Ruby Doesn't Know (Part I): Keeping Secrets
Author: Emrys
Spoiler Alerts: "NRFTW" and "Croatoan" But anything from the beginning of the series is fair game.
Category: Gen
Pairing: N/A
Summary: This is the continuation of my "The Abaddon Series." This one is in Sam's point of view.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the television program Supernatural. That all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke, and whole bunch of other people who are lucky enough to be involved with this show. I’m not receiving any sort of revenue for this fic.
Story behind the cut:
What Ruby Doesn’t Know-Part I: Keeping Secrets
Carefully sipping coffee that is perfectly strong but still too hot, Sam walks through the shabby neighborhood. He left Dean at the apartment only minutes ago-ten, fifteen at most. Only minutes, but Sam still walks briskly.
It’s been months-going on a year, actually-since Sam tore Dean out of Hell, and Dean is not yet recovered. He still hallucinates, still jumps at the oddest noises and is still painfully truthful. And Sam, he doesn’t like to leave his brother for too long. He manages to keep his nervous energy down when he’s in class, but even the distraction of school can’t completely keep him from worrying.
Actually, it’s the distraction of school-a midterm-that has brought him out here this time of night. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, because Dean had a bad day.
Sam’s always exhausted after Dean has a bad day. He’s also always depressed, but he can’t afford to feel that way right now. There’s just too much work to do. Instead he chooses to ignore the sick reaction in his chest and the clogged up feeling in his head. It’s hard, this ignoring business, but mostly he succeeds.
Mostly.
Sam knows he needs to sleep, but before he can do that he needs to catch up on a few case studies that will surely be on his exam in the morning. Coffee was in order, so he left, just for a handful of minutes, to get a cup full of good, strong joe to help him through the night.
He didn’t leave Dean alone-Bobby is more than capable of handling the older Winchester for a little while. And, really, it’s been just a few minutes. Not even a quarter of an hour.
His sharp awareness of the time he’s away from Dean is an obsession Sam can’t break. Neither can he erase the guilt that rumbles around in his head as robustly as the depression does. He can’t erase it, because all of this, all of Dean’s pain and instability has been for Sam.
Dean went to Hell to save Sam. And now, now that Dean’s back and safe, now that Sam is strong and full of white power, well, now Sam can’t save Dean. Can’t save Dean from hallucinations and snooping demons and nightmares. Can’t save Dean from fear and anxiety and a fractured mind.
Sam can’t save Dean from Dean.
Dean tries to overcome himself. In fact he can be an outright pain in the ass at times, just like he could be before his sight-seeing tour through the underworld. Sometimes Dean seems strong, and angry, and just plain pissed off. At those times, those very rare times, Sam can almost pretend everything will all be okay. Finally.
But Dean’s mood is a knife’s edge, a spinning dime. It doesn’t take much for Sam’s hope to evaporate when Dean’s good days turn bad. And those good days, yeah, they do turn bad. And when Dean has a bad day, a day like today, that’s when Sam knows better. That’s when Sam knows that everything won’t all be okay.
It just won’t.
Sam sighs, takes a quick sip of coffee. Yeah, he’s exhausted, but he picks up his pace anyway. He needs to get home.
It’s Sam’s guilt, his unwavering attention to the doubts inside his head that keeps him from seeing the danger when it comes.
“Little Sammy Winchester, my how absolutely funny it is to meet you here of all places. Right in the middle of the street! And oh, look, it’s the witching hour, isn’t it? Hysterical. What a laugh!”
Three men, tall, dark, and dressed in elegant three-piece suits, step out of the shadows into Sam’s path. Sam notices that they could all be brothers, that all three look remarkably alike. The broad smirk of the one who talked, another’s slovenly look, and the third’s pair of steamy eyeglasses are the only differences between the threesome. Sam notes these differences and is curious by the peculiarity of the men. He isn’t afraid of them, because he’s a Winchester and a powerful one at that. He can take care of himself.
And when three pairs of eyes cloud and darken and show their demon selves, well, Sam, he still isn’t afraid.
He’s positively furious.
“Christo!” He yells the word just to annoy the demons. It gives him time to step back and assess the situation.
All three flinch simultaneously.
“That wasn’t funny,” the one who cajoled Sam says now.
“Not at all,” another declares. This is the sloppy looking one. The creature rubs his head as if it aches and doesn’t attempt to smooth down his messy hair once he stops.
Sam’s anger builds, and he’s raring to go. He’s ready, and the world starts to turn white at its edges. It’s been a bad day and, yeah, oh boy, he’s ready to kick some demon ass.
“I told you he’s out of play. When are you stupid fucks going to get the point?” Sam growls. He feels the whiteness burn and savors the anticipation of death and destruction.
“Now, now, now, Mr., um, Winchester. Not so, um, hasty. We, uh, we aren’t here to, um, ah threaten your brother.” The words are hurried and nervous.
Sam can’t see straight, but he knows it’s the demon with the glasses who just spoke. He pauses, because although hesitation could be a mistake here, there’s something different, maybe important, in the demon’s tone.
“Ahem, ah, I, ah, believe you know, that you realize, that your brother, despite all your, uh, actions to prove otherwise, is, uh, is very much, actually, in play.”
The light, the whiteness pulls back. Sam forces it down, so he can listen. But if one of these assholes says the wrong thing, well, the geyser of his power isn’t so far away that he won’t be able to use it in time.
“Let us introduce ourselves. Um, I’m Uphir. My friend here with the annoying laugh is Kobal.”
Kobal bows and giggles, then Uphir continues with the introductions.
“My other, ah, friend is Cresil.”
“Yeah, whatever. Can we get this over with?” Cresil says and belches loudly.
Uphir wrinkles his nose in disgust.
“What do you want?” Sam demands.
The three demons look at each other as if unsure how to start. It’s peculiar behavior for demons, and suddenly Sam’s a little interested.
“A business proposition,” Uphir says.
“Forget it,” Sam replies, with a disgusted wave of his hand. “I’ve had enough dealings with your kind to last a lifetime. Take it up with some other poor fuck.”
Sam shoves past the threesome and isn’t entirely surprised when they all scramble to keep from touching him. He knows his power is painful to them. It’s why he hasn’t been afraid of a demon, any demon, in almost a year.
He crosses the street, and as an afterthought considers splatting these three demons all over the sidewalk. It’s only an instant of thought though, because sometimes-almost all the time-when he turns his power on something, the human housing it is harmed, sometimes killed. Sam can’t stomach that tonight. Not after the day Dean had.
“If I hear of you hurting anyone, I’ll turn you all to dust,” he calls from across the street. It’s an insurance policy. Insurance against further guilt and despair.
He turns his back and hears an unhappy scuffle behind him.
“Winchester! Wait!”
Sam doesn’t know which of the three calls out to him, and he doesn’t really care. His thoughts turn to Dean, and again he quickens his pace toward home.
“Winchester! Listen to us!” There’s a hint of desperation in the voice. Sam still doesn’t care.
“Your brother is in a great deal of trouble!”
Sam doesn’t remember stalking his way back across the street. And yet, suddenly he’s in the midst of the three demons again, and he’s got his hands locked around the throat of the smirking one.
“You leave my brother alone,” he commands. The demon in his hold continues to smirk, but it’s clear that Sam’s touch is uncomfortable to it.
“We have, um, well, no intention of harming Dean,” Uphir says. “It’s just that, well, um, we’re not, well, exactly pleased with the, uh, the uh, way things are going with your, um, well, your brother.”
“Too much work,” the unkempt demon says.
“Not funny at all,” the one in Sam’s hold chokes out.
“Shut the fuck up and let me do this!” Uphir yells. All trace of nervousness suddenly dissipates from him.
For an instant, the demons look ready to fight each other, even the one Sam’s got his fingers around.
Sam pushes the demon in his grasp away and wipes his hand on his pants. Calm follows his move.
“Get it over with,” the messy one, Cresil, hisses.
“Give me some fucking silence, and maybe I will,” Uphir growls back.
Sam interrupts their arguing.
“What are you talking about? What’s the matter with Dean?”
Kobal, the smirking creature, laughs hysterically. He rubs his neck which is clearly damaged from Sam’s hold.
“You’re not going to like it. Not at all,” the giggling demon says.
Uphir takes a deep breath and speaks.
“You didn’t listen very well to Nybbas. A shame really, since you took all that time to barbeque him.” Cunning and nastiness now replace the seemingly characteristic nervousness of the creature and send a chill down Sam’s spine.
“What are you talking about?” Sam asks, wary. Suspicious.
“Won’t believe us, won’t believe us, won’t believe us,” Cresil mutters in an understated voice that sounds like static. The other two demons glare daggered warnings at him.
“Read that story again, Sammy,” Uphir says, once he’s sure Cresil is quiet. He pats Sam’s chest, and licks at his burnt fingers afterwards. “You know it. It’s the one at the end of that cursed book. Read it and think of stupid, fat Nybbas. Maybe you’ll catch on.”
“I read it already. There’s nothing there except for the Morning Star, the name of Luci-”
All three demons cringe and howl.
“Don’t say it.”
“Not that name.”
“Oh please, be quiet. Be very quiet.”
Sammy looks on, confused and still leery.
“I know it’s a story that’s been perverted by a demon,” he continues, hesitantly. He doesn’t know what will set the threesome off again, and it isn’t so very late that their commotion won’t draw unwanted attention. “But I don’t have a clue what it has to do with Dean.”
“What, did you think we’d make it easy for you?” Uphir sneers.
“Yeah, we’re demons, not Santa Claus,” Kobal says and giggles again.
“Oh, all right. Chapter four. Verse one. When you figure it out, we’ll find you. See if you still want to chat,” Cresil drawls, sounding put out and lazy at the same time.
As one, the three demons turn and take a step away from Sam. Sam stands in the middle of the sidewalk, confused and wondering. Why did they even bother with him if they weren’t going to give him straight answers?
He shakes his head and is about to walk home when Uphir halts. The demon, slowly, inexorably turns around. His voice buzzes when he speaks.
“Check his blood. It’s quite important that you do so,” the demon says. The buzzing is disorienting and uncomfortable. It gives Sam a headache. “And remember, we’ll find you. Don’t seek us out. You’ve got many eyes watching you, Winchester. Can’t make it look like we’re in cahoots. Oh, and to that end-”
Kobal, whose back is turned away, suddenly cackles, turns and swings an arm out. Sam almost kisses demon power before his white heat surfaces and retaliates. The demons growl, make a fuss, and do all the things demons normally do before making an unhappy exit.
They howl once more before scampering away from Sam’s bright power.
Sam is left confused and breathing hard.
And his coffee is stone cold.
oOo
Continued at http://emrys777.livejournal.com/5248.html#cutid1
Here are the addresses for the first two stories of this series (just in case you need 'em):
Story I - "Coming Back"
http://emrys777.livejournal.com/4501.html#cutid1
Story II - "Ajar"
http://emrys777.livejournal.com/4613.html#cutid1
Author: Emrys
Spoiler Alerts: "NRFTW" and "Croatoan" But anything from the beginning of the series is fair game.
Category: Gen
Pairing: N/A
Summary: This is the continuation of my "The Abaddon Series." This one is in Sam's point of view.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the television program Supernatural. That all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke, and whole bunch of other people who are lucky enough to be involved with this show. I’m not receiving any sort of revenue for this fic.
Story behind the cut:
What Ruby Doesn’t Know-Part I: Keeping Secrets
Carefully sipping coffee that is perfectly strong but still too hot, Sam walks through the shabby neighborhood. He left Dean at the apartment only minutes ago-ten, fifteen at most. Only minutes, but Sam still walks briskly.
It’s been months-going on a year, actually-since Sam tore Dean out of Hell, and Dean is not yet recovered. He still hallucinates, still jumps at the oddest noises and is still painfully truthful. And Sam, he doesn’t like to leave his brother for too long. He manages to keep his nervous energy down when he’s in class, but even the distraction of school can’t completely keep him from worrying.
Actually, it’s the distraction of school-a midterm-that has brought him out here this time of night. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, because Dean had a bad day.
Sam’s always exhausted after Dean has a bad day. He’s also always depressed, but he can’t afford to feel that way right now. There’s just too much work to do. Instead he chooses to ignore the sick reaction in his chest and the clogged up feeling in his head. It’s hard, this ignoring business, but mostly he succeeds.
Mostly.
Sam knows he needs to sleep, but before he can do that he needs to catch up on a few case studies that will surely be on his exam in the morning. Coffee was in order, so he left, just for a handful of minutes, to get a cup full of good, strong joe to help him through the night.
He didn’t leave Dean alone-Bobby is more than capable of handling the older Winchester for a little while. And, really, it’s been just a few minutes. Not even a quarter of an hour.
His sharp awareness of the time he’s away from Dean is an obsession Sam can’t break. Neither can he erase the guilt that rumbles around in his head as robustly as the depression does. He can’t erase it, because all of this, all of Dean’s pain and instability has been for Sam.
Dean went to Hell to save Sam. And now, now that Dean’s back and safe, now that Sam is strong and full of white power, well, now Sam can’t save Dean. Can’t save Dean from hallucinations and snooping demons and nightmares. Can’t save Dean from fear and anxiety and a fractured mind.
Sam can’t save Dean from Dean.
Dean tries to overcome himself. In fact he can be an outright pain in the ass at times, just like he could be before his sight-seeing tour through the underworld. Sometimes Dean seems strong, and angry, and just plain pissed off. At those times, those very rare times, Sam can almost pretend everything will all be okay. Finally.
But Dean’s mood is a knife’s edge, a spinning dime. It doesn’t take much for Sam’s hope to evaporate when Dean’s good days turn bad. And those good days, yeah, they do turn bad. And when Dean has a bad day, a day like today, that’s when Sam knows better. That’s when Sam knows that everything won’t all be okay.
It just won’t.
Sam sighs, takes a quick sip of coffee. Yeah, he’s exhausted, but he picks up his pace anyway. He needs to get home.
It’s Sam’s guilt, his unwavering attention to the doubts inside his head that keeps him from seeing the danger when it comes.
“Little Sammy Winchester, my how absolutely funny it is to meet you here of all places. Right in the middle of the street! And oh, look, it’s the witching hour, isn’t it? Hysterical. What a laugh!”
Three men, tall, dark, and dressed in elegant three-piece suits, step out of the shadows into Sam’s path. Sam notices that they could all be brothers, that all three look remarkably alike. The broad smirk of the one who talked, another’s slovenly look, and the third’s pair of steamy eyeglasses are the only differences between the threesome. Sam notes these differences and is curious by the peculiarity of the men. He isn’t afraid of them, because he’s a Winchester and a powerful one at that. He can take care of himself.
And when three pairs of eyes cloud and darken and show their demon selves, well, Sam, he still isn’t afraid.
He’s positively furious.
“Christo!” He yells the word just to annoy the demons. It gives him time to step back and assess the situation.
All three flinch simultaneously.
“That wasn’t funny,” the one who cajoled Sam says now.
“Not at all,” another declares. This is the sloppy looking one. The creature rubs his head as if it aches and doesn’t attempt to smooth down his messy hair once he stops.
Sam’s anger builds, and he’s raring to go. He’s ready, and the world starts to turn white at its edges. It’s been a bad day and, yeah, oh boy, he’s ready to kick some demon ass.
“I told you he’s out of play. When are you stupid fucks going to get the point?” Sam growls. He feels the whiteness burn and savors the anticipation of death and destruction.
“Now, now, now, Mr., um, Winchester. Not so, um, hasty. We, uh, we aren’t here to, um, ah threaten your brother.” The words are hurried and nervous.
Sam can’t see straight, but he knows it’s the demon with the glasses who just spoke. He pauses, because although hesitation could be a mistake here, there’s something different, maybe important, in the demon’s tone.
“Ahem, ah, I, ah, believe you know, that you realize, that your brother, despite all your, uh, actions to prove otherwise, is, uh, is very much, actually, in play.”
The light, the whiteness pulls back. Sam forces it down, so he can listen. But if one of these assholes says the wrong thing, well, the geyser of his power isn’t so far away that he won’t be able to use it in time.
“Let us introduce ourselves. Um, I’m Uphir. My friend here with the annoying laugh is Kobal.”
Kobal bows and giggles, then Uphir continues with the introductions.
“My other, ah, friend is Cresil.”
“Yeah, whatever. Can we get this over with?” Cresil says and belches loudly.
Uphir wrinkles his nose in disgust.
“What do you want?” Sam demands.
The three demons look at each other as if unsure how to start. It’s peculiar behavior for demons, and suddenly Sam’s a little interested.
“A business proposition,” Uphir says.
“Forget it,” Sam replies, with a disgusted wave of his hand. “I’ve had enough dealings with your kind to last a lifetime. Take it up with some other poor fuck.”
Sam shoves past the threesome and isn’t entirely surprised when they all scramble to keep from touching him. He knows his power is painful to them. It’s why he hasn’t been afraid of a demon, any demon, in almost a year.
He crosses the street, and as an afterthought considers splatting these three demons all over the sidewalk. It’s only an instant of thought though, because sometimes-almost all the time-when he turns his power on something, the human housing it is harmed, sometimes killed. Sam can’t stomach that tonight. Not after the day Dean had.
“If I hear of you hurting anyone, I’ll turn you all to dust,” he calls from across the street. It’s an insurance policy. Insurance against further guilt and despair.
He turns his back and hears an unhappy scuffle behind him.
“Winchester! Wait!”
Sam doesn’t know which of the three calls out to him, and he doesn’t really care. His thoughts turn to Dean, and again he quickens his pace toward home.
“Winchester! Listen to us!” There’s a hint of desperation in the voice. Sam still doesn’t care.
“Your brother is in a great deal of trouble!”
Sam doesn’t remember stalking his way back across the street. And yet, suddenly he’s in the midst of the three demons again, and he’s got his hands locked around the throat of the smirking one.
“You leave my brother alone,” he commands. The demon in his hold continues to smirk, but it’s clear that Sam’s touch is uncomfortable to it.
“We have, um, well, no intention of harming Dean,” Uphir says. “It’s just that, well, um, we’re not, well, exactly pleased with the, uh, the uh, way things are going with your, um, well, your brother.”
“Too much work,” the unkempt demon says.
“Not funny at all,” the one in Sam’s hold chokes out.
“Shut the fuck up and let me do this!” Uphir yells. All trace of nervousness suddenly dissipates from him.
For an instant, the demons look ready to fight each other, even the one Sam’s got his fingers around.
Sam pushes the demon in his grasp away and wipes his hand on his pants. Calm follows his move.
“Get it over with,” the messy one, Cresil, hisses.
“Give me some fucking silence, and maybe I will,” Uphir growls back.
Sam interrupts their arguing.
“What are you talking about? What’s the matter with Dean?”
Kobal, the smirking creature, laughs hysterically. He rubs his neck which is clearly damaged from Sam’s hold.
“You’re not going to like it. Not at all,” the giggling demon says.
Uphir takes a deep breath and speaks.
“You didn’t listen very well to Nybbas. A shame really, since you took all that time to barbeque him.” Cunning and nastiness now replace the seemingly characteristic nervousness of the creature and send a chill down Sam’s spine.
“What are you talking about?” Sam asks, wary. Suspicious.
“Won’t believe us, won’t believe us, won’t believe us,” Cresil mutters in an understated voice that sounds like static. The other two demons glare daggered warnings at him.
“Read that story again, Sammy,” Uphir says, once he’s sure Cresil is quiet. He pats Sam’s chest, and licks at his burnt fingers afterwards. “You know it. It’s the one at the end of that cursed book. Read it and think of stupid, fat Nybbas. Maybe you’ll catch on.”
“I read it already. There’s nothing there except for the Morning Star, the name of Luci-”
All three demons cringe and howl.
“Don’t say it.”
“Not that name.”
“Oh please, be quiet. Be very quiet.”
Sammy looks on, confused and still leery.
“I know it’s a story that’s been perverted by a demon,” he continues, hesitantly. He doesn’t know what will set the threesome off again, and it isn’t so very late that their commotion won’t draw unwanted attention. “But I don’t have a clue what it has to do with Dean.”
“What, did you think we’d make it easy for you?” Uphir sneers.
“Yeah, we’re demons, not Santa Claus,” Kobal says and giggles again.
“Oh, all right. Chapter four. Verse one. When you figure it out, we’ll find you. See if you still want to chat,” Cresil drawls, sounding put out and lazy at the same time.
As one, the three demons turn and take a step away from Sam. Sam stands in the middle of the sidewalk, confused and wondering. Why did they even bother with him if they weren’t going to give him straight answers?
He shakes his head and is about to walk home when Uphir halts. The demon, slowly, inexorably turns around. His voice buzzes when he speaks.
“Check his blood. It’s quite important that you do so,” the demon says. The buzzing is disorienting and uncomfortable. It gives Sam a headache. “And remember, we’ll find you. Don’t seek us out. You’ve got many eyes watching you, Winchester. Can’t make it look like we’re in cahoots. Oh, and to that end-”
Kobal, whose back is turned away, suddenly cackles, turns and swings an arm out. Sam almost kisses demon power before his white heat surfaces and retaliates. The demons growl, make a fuss, and do all the things demons normally do before making an unhappy exit.
They howl once more before scampering away from Sam’s bright power.
Sam is left confused and breathing hard.
And his coffee is stone cold.
oOo
Continued at http://emrys777.livejournal.com/5248.html#cutid1
Here are the addresses for the first two stories of this series (just in case you need 'em):
Story I - "Coming Back"
http://emrys777.livejournal.com/4501.html#cutid1
Story II - "Ajar"
http://emrys777.livejournal.com/4613.html#cutid1