Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 4A

[jcrgirl]

Title: Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 4A
Author: Insertcode11 with jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: Dean/Sam, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Beta: glimmerella
Word Count: 9150
Warnings: Overall: Wincest, AU, bondage, non-con (not the boys), abuse, weecest (Sam is 16) in parts
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: AU after the events of Devil's Trap (1x22). The Winchesters have unfinished business in the town of Pike Creek, Delaware. Will Dean find, just as Sam did when he was sixteen, that the supernatural isn’t the only horrifying things that stir in the coldest hours just before the dawn.

A/N: This is the story of a story. This story was started by the wonderfully talented Insercode11. The first three chapters are all hers. This chapter is the beginning of the co-written chapters. Many, many thanks to  and . Nothing would ever get written let alone posted without them *kisses*



Dad had already left for work by the time Sam got up. He worked at the town’s biggest garage, a job Coach Schneider had arranged by calling in a favor from the owner. They had been short a mechanic for a couple of weeks and work was beginning to back up, so Mr. Gibbs had jumped at the opportunity to hire an experienced mechanic.

He wrinkled his nose, remembering Coach Schneider bragging about getting Dad the job. He emphasized that the garage owner owed him and subtly implied that Dad did as well. Sam knew how things worked, how his Dad worked. If he could, Dad would do anything for Nathan because he was Dad’s friend and he owed him a favor. He didn’t have to be reminded.

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out the Lucky Charms and a carton of milk for breakfast. He rinsed the coffee pot and measured out the water and grounds needed to brew Dean a “good morning”, flicking the switch to set the machine in motion. He set out bowls and spoons, placing a mug next to the percolating coffee pot because Dean bitched at him last time when he had rummage through the cupboards to find one on his own. He plopped into one of the kitchen chairs and poured cereal into his bowl.

Propping his head in his hand, he stared at the milk sodden, multi-hued marshmallows, spoon pushing them around and turning the milk an unattractive purple color. He sighed and looked around the kitchen, eyes cataloguing the differences between this place and their usual haunts. No mold in the corners, no insect or rodent droppings, working appliances. It was their equivalent of a five star hotel and he really should be more grateful. He was being unfair towards Schneider. He was loud-mouthed and without a sense of propriety, but so was Dean. Sam smirked to himself.

He wiggled his toes, the icy linoleum floor seeping through the threadbare soles of his socks. Dad had said that they couldn’t turn on the heat because they didn’t have enough money to pay the power bill. It wasn’t so bad. They had stayed in dives without the option of heating and in places that weren’t even properly sealed so he could handle chilly feet. He pulled them up from the floor and sat cross legged in the seat, tucking them under his thighs. He finished the last few bites of his breakfast to the prickly sensation of warmth creeping back into his cold feet.

After Sam, Dean, and John had completed their five o’clock run that morning, the younger Winchesters had come back and fallen asleep again while John showered and left for work. It was now 7:30 and homeroom was in forty-five minutes and Dean had to clock in at 8:00 at the gas station. Sam eased into Dean’s room. His big brother was passed out, one leg thrown out and hanging off the side of the bed, sheets and blankets tossed every which way. One arm was shoved under the pillow, ready to grab the gun he had under there.

“Dean.” Sam said softly but firmly, transmitting his presence from afar so Dean wouldn’t pull the gun on him. Dean grunted and shifted in acknowledgement, his hand twitching from beneath the pillow, but his breaths evened out again.

Not too long ago Dean was the one that dragged himself out of bed to fix breakfast and get Sam ready for school. It was around the middle of Sam’s freshman year that he realized he was usually awake before Dean and either dozed or read while waiting for Dean to come get him. Dean wasn’t a morning person so Sam had decided that if he was going to be up anyway he could get the morning started for them. He learned quickly that Dean was more receptive to mornings if he got a little extra sleep and had coffee waiting for him when he got up.

Sam decided that he wouldn’t do an obnoxious wake-up call this morning (though he should for payback for the years of torment he suffered at Dean’s hands). Besides, Dean tended to be less grumpy if he wasn’t startled awake and he was generally more mellow in the mornings.

So, okay, he wasn’t going to be nice to Dean out of the goodness of his heart-he just really wanted to ask Dean about the basketball team.

He sat on the edge of Dean’s bed and gently placed his hand on Dean’s back. Over the past year or two in school he had noticed that guys his and Dean’s ages didn’t touch each other as much as he and his brother did. Shoulder bumps and slaps on the back were all that were “socially acceptable” for guys at school. He and Dean did that, too, but just as often they shared touches like what they were doing now. Sam was rubbing his big brother’s back and easing him awake. Sometimes in the motels they stayed in when they lay together watching TV Dean would reach over and run his hands through Sam’s hair like he used to when Sam was little. Sometimes when they sat on opposite ends of the couch, their legs curled up on the cushion between them, they would entangle their feet-mostly because Dean’s feet were always freezing and he would tuck them under Sam’s feet or calves. It was natural to touch Dean all the time. Sam couldn’t imagine a life of not being able to hold on to him or touch him and realize that Dean was real and not going to leave Sam like Mom did… like Dad does.

“C’mon, De.” Sam murmured soft but firm. “You gotta go to work.” Dean grunted, shifting again, and Sam patted him a little on the shoulder. “You gotta eat and get ready. Wake up, Dean.”

Dean sighed into the pillow. “Dumbass gas station.” He groused and tried to bury himself deeper into the bed, arms circling the pillow to hug it to closer.

“Okay. Not the most dignifying job, but you won’t have to worry about it anymore if you show up late.”

“Good.” Dean grumbled with finality.

“Hey, it’s alright. Winter’s comin’ and we only need to be able to pay the power bill so we won’t freeze to death.” Dean groaned. “Townspeople go through the gas station every day so it’s a good place to get information about the hunt.” He groaned louder and Sam smiled, continuing. “And we can just eat canned beans and vegetables for meals. After all, hard to afford burgers and take out without money, but I’m sure we can manage.”

“Hate you.”

Sam grinned and flicked Dean’s ear. “I’m your favorite little brother.”

“You’re my only little brother.”

“If you had more I’d still be your favorite.”

Dean let out something like a cry of pain. “Fine. I’ll go to work at the fuckin’ station. Just shut up, please,” he begged.

Sam stood up, smirking. “Yes, Dean” he said dutifully and pulled out a change of clothes for after Dean’s shower. “Coffee’s ready,” he informed and then left the room.

Ten minutes later Dean stumbled out fully showered and dressed but bleary-eyed. He chugged a whole cup of coffee before pouring another and sitting down to a bowl of cereal.

“How was school? Forgot to ask last night.” Dean started, milk dribbling down his chin as he talked with his mouth full.

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust at him. “It was good, actually.”

“Yeah? Kids didn’t give you any problems?” Both Dean and Sam had suffered through bullies in other schools. Bullies didn’t actually do much bodily harm to either of them since they could defend themselves, but being the new kid, showing up in the middle of the school year with threadbare Salvation Army clothes that were sometimes a decade out of style, caused some students to shun them or cruelly tease them.

“No. Guess its cause I’m taller.” Sam said with a shrug and Dean just nodded, having experienced the same thing. Growth spurts were miraculous things. Bullies tended to leave you alone when you towered over them.

Dean smirked devilishly-or as devilishly as he could with a milk-soaked chin - and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Yeah, man, you’re gonna be a Sasquatch if you don’t stop growin’. Bet the girls like how tall you are, though.”

Sam unexpectedly blushed and Dean raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t! You’ve got a girl already, don’t you?” He beamed with pride.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat but couldn’t help the cocky, confident grin. “Yeah, guess so.” He admitted with a shrug that he hoped came across as nonchalant.

“Dude! This is awesome! What’s her name? She hot?” Dean fired off and sipped at his second cup of coffee.

“Her name’s April. She’s pretty hot.” Sam shrugged. “She’s in my math class and she’s part of the drama club.”

Dean’s look turned appreciative. “You aim high. Those hot geeks don’t put out for just anyone, dude. They want a relationship.” Dean shuddered at the word as if just saying it out loud was poison.

Sam got up and dumped Dean’s bowl in the sink on his way to pour himself another half a cup since they had a couple of more minutes before they both had to leave. “It’s all right. I mean, I think I rather have that, anyway.” He trailed off, not wanting to open himself up for teasing by saying that he doesn’t like the idea of sleeping around because he couldn’t build a connection. Also, he didn’t want to inadvertently insult Dean; although, his big brother is rather proud of his long line of one night stands and exploits in casual sex across America.

Dean nodded but moved on. “Everything else okay? Are you behind in your classes? Dad probably needs you to get started on some of the research leg work. You know, possibilities, local ghost stories, that kind of thing.”

What Dean was asking was if school was going to get in the way of the hunt. “Most of it’s a repeat from the last school.” Sam said. “So, nothing to catch up on. So far the work load is light.”

Dean nodded approvingly. “Oh, how about Nathan? He’s your gym coach, right? He cool?”

Sam was momentarily thrown by the specific question. “Yeah, he’s cool. He just lets us play basketball most of the time. From what I can tell we don’t have any written tests on sports history like the last school.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Good. That last guy was psycho to do that. I mean its gym. It’s the saving grace class for most students.”

Sam chuckled. “Actually, I made a lot of friends with the basketball players in that class.” He figured it was as good as a segue as any, but Dean was already frowning and shaking his head.

“Dude, I said no sports or clubs right now.” He got up and washed out his mug. Leaning against the counter, he crossed his arms and gave Sam a sympathetic look. “Look, things are too hot right now. We need you to help research. Nathan knows Dad but doesn’t know about hunting, so we have to use our real names in this town. That means we can’t get by on fake credit cards so me and Dad have to work. I know it sucks, but we’ll do the talking to people and we need you to help with the research.”

“But, practice would be over at 5:00. I could go the library then and still get research in.” Sam reasoned.

“Sam.” It wasn’t a shout or a snap, but it wasn’t the kindest tone of voice either. “Dad said no so just obey him, okay?”

Sam bit his lip to keep from saying that Dad could have told him to his face instead of making Dean be his messenger.

“You know this hunt is important, Sam.” Dean’s face was harder, like he was working himself up.

Sam stood up abruptly, eyes wide. “I know this is an important hunt, Dean! I know, okay?”

Dean’s lips thinned and he crossed his arms. “I’m just saying. Just once Dad needs you to focus.”

Sam barked out a laugh even as he felt his chest rend from his body and his throat tighten. “Dad? Dad’s not here, Dean. So either you’ve been discussing me without me or this is something you want to say to me, so say it!”

“Fine! Okay!” Dean shouted and took a breath. “Me and Dad talked and we think that you need to concentrate more on the hunt this time around. It’s just for now, man.”

Sam clenched his jaw and just got more pissed off at the placating tone in Dean’s voice. Sam didn’t even know where to start there was so much wrong with this conversation. “Just for now? Is it the same just for now Dad used after Mom’s death? The just for now that means he’s only been around for five out of sixteen Christmases? Is it the same just for now Dad told you that left you with a GED?”

For a moment Dean looked like he had been slapped then his brows furrowed and his lip curled and he growled. “Shut up, Sam!”

“Why? Because I have an opinion?”

“My God, can’t you go one day without being so overdramatic!”

Sam stalked over to the door and picked up his back pack from the floor. “I’m not being overdramatic. You’re being an asshole. So is Dad!”

Dean took a step towards Sam, furious. “Watch your mouth, Sam.”

“Or what, Dean?” Sam reached for the door knob.

“Just… don’t do the basketball thing. And start research today after school.” Dean sounded weary behind him and Sam thought he had no right to sound like that.

“I’ll pencil it in.” Sam snapped. By the time he exited the house he was so tired that he didn’t even slam the door.

Sam felt how thin the soles of his shoes were against the cold sidewalk as he trudged to the bus stop.  His heart was hammering and his stomach felt stretched and twisted. He swallowed hard, trying to swallow past all of the static in his head. Sam was always amazed at how fast things blew up in their family. He knew a lot of it was due to their complete lack of communication. Sam hated not knowing. He hated it and made sure his Dad knew but that didn’t mean he hated Dad or his family.

The bus arrived with a whine and smog of diesel exhaust. There was no heating and Sam felt the chilled leather seat bite at him through his clothes

He liked hunting in a way. He liked the puzzles and saving people, but he hated the possibility of losing the only two people he had in the world. Every time Sam tried to talk about it, Dad shut him down and Dean always thought Sam was insulting Dean personally. Neither understood that when they went on hunts, red taillights fading in the distance leaving Sam behind, the fear that they wouldn’t return hurt like a mortal. They were all Sam had left and he couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to them.

Sam frowned as his body rocked and swayed with the shuddering bus. Dad and Dean were overprotective, but, like everything else in their lives, the hunt and Mom’s death seemed to have tainted that drive. They micromanaged Sam’s life, watching his steps, judging him, measuring him, training him, molding him all in the name of protecting him. A person could suffocate under that kind of intense focus.

As they pulled up to the school he frantically tried to push everything back. He couldn’t handle it on top of the possibility that Mom’s killer might be in this town. Sam suppressed the sudden urge to throw up as he stepped off the bus. He couldn’t be this upset now, too much was riding on him. Dean always pushed anything that was bothering him aside in order to get the job done. Sam swallowed and decided that if Dean could be that strong then he could, too. By the time he was at the school’s entrance he had shoved all of his thoughts about the argument away and was already thinking of going to the computer lab during his free period to start research on fire monsters.

Mac practically plowed into Sam before he was even in homeroom. His pale, gangly arm slung over Sam’s shoulders, the contact making Sam stiffen and pale with tension.

“Hey, Sam!” Mac’s brows furrowed. “Man, are you a1l right?”

Sam cleared his throat and rolled his eyes, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah, it’s fine. I got into a fight with my brother this morning. That’s all. He can be an ass when he wants to be.” He declared, throwing on a smile.

Mac’s face was instantly relieved. “Sorry, man. But that’s how siblings are. Or, well, I think so anyway since I don’t have any. I do have this snobby older cousin that lives across the street from us, though.” Mac rambled on about his cousin, dragging Sam to a seat next to him, oblivious to the quieting room until the teacher, Mrs. Milford, snapped at him.

Two periods later April shouldered up to him at his locker. She was prettier than he remembered and he felt like such a pansy even thinking that. She smiled up at him, a faint blush on her face. “Hey, Sam. Finding everything easier today?”

“So far.” He half smirked. “Did you do your math homework?” Lame! He berated himself mentally. Dean’s voice was saying that only friends talk about homework and Sam didn’t want to be in the friend category.

She laughed like she heard his thoughts. “I did it, but it’s probably terrible. I told you I need a tutor.” She coyly looked him up and down.

Sam laughed, too, startled by her boldness. “Anytime,” he promised and turned to switch out his books.

“Are…Are you okay?” Her voice lacked its usual confidence.

“Yeah?” Sam wasn’t sure what she’s looking for and sensed more than saw her shift her weight from foot to foot.

“Okay!” She blurted, blushing when she realized how loud she was. “Well,” she amended. “It’s just that Mac said you looked kind of down this morning and I just wanted to check and make sure you’re doing okay because it’s a new school and everything and yeah we just met yesterday but we’re friends, right? And-“

Sam put his hand on her forearm and April looked up into a wide grin, dimples turned on full force.

“Thanks.” Sam said softly and genuinely. “Really. But it was just a normal argument with my brother.” Not a lie. “We both’ll probably forget it by this afternoon.” A lie. “Big brothers are such a pain in the ass.” Not a lie. “We’ve just been stressed lately and it blew up this morning.” Not a lie. “I don’t even remember what we were fighting about, really.” A lie followed by a laugh.

April blinked, looking a little dazed and Sam wondered why. She shook her head, black curls flying about her pale face. “Well, that’s good! I bet moving is stressful. At least you don’t seem to have a problem fitting in here!” She patted his shoulder, her small hand fluttering like a bird’s wing against him. That dazed look in her eyes returned and Sam raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh, wow!” She breathed. “You’re, uhm, strong…” She cleared her throat before Sam could say anything. “Right. Walk me to class?”

April tilted her head, exposing her long white throat, her small breasts bouncing, despite the small movement. His stomach felt heavy in a good way as he walked with her and it was hard to talk casually but they managed. However, when he entered his own class he couldn’t seem to remember a thing they talked about.

Before heading to the cafeteria for lunch, Sam decided to stop by his locker and pick up the books he needed for his afternoon classes. Closing the metal door, he saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. It was a little taller than the students, leaning around the corner and watching the teenagers congregated in the hall.

He scanned the corridor, waiting for the few students lingering at their lockers to leave. Fingering the outline of the knife in his pocket, he moved toward the hall running perpendicular to the one his locker was on. Swallowing, he eased his hand inside his pocket and gripped the cold metal handle.

He neared the corner, now the only person left in the hallway, the others hurrying to enjoy their lunch period. He took out his knife and, with practiced ease, flicked it open. He pushed his back to the wall and crept a few steps down the corridor with his knife at the ready. Listening for a few moments at the corner - ears perked for the sound of breathing, of clothes whispered, of feet squeaking on the linoleum - and hearing nothing, he held his breath and slowly leaned to the side to peek around the edge, his weight on the balls of his feet and his heart pounding in his ears.

There was nothing there. Sam’s eyes widened and he whipped around, his muscles strung out on anticipation. There was nothing behind him, either.

Sam frowned, looking around in all directions again and even glancing up at the ceiling, but… nothing. It must have been a teacher or another student, but Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever it was had been looking in his direction.

Sam shook his head and returned his knife to his pocket. He jogged the rest of the way to the cafeteria, partly because he was late meeting his friends and partly because he was shaking slightly with unspent adrenaline and needed to do something.

Sam and April were nearly late to math class. They were talking about King Arthur and April’s play one second -April staring up at him, cheeks flushed with laughter, hair in a messy up do that had half-fallen with black curls about her forehead and ears - and the next second Sam had his books, his locker closed, but they hadn’t moved. Sam leaned close to her, April’s back pressed against the lockers like they were the only thing holding her up.

Sam didn’t know what was going to happen, but it was interrupted before he could find out by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He started and his hand flew to his pocket for his knife. It was hard to sneak up on him and with sudden clarity he remembered the shadow he had dismissed earlier.

“Sammy.” The voice was genial and familiar and Sam looked over his shoulder to see Coach Schneider. He was smiling but not the same smile from the previous night. It looked a little sharper somehow.

“Sam.” He corrected automatically. Coach Schneider squeezed his shoulder hard.

“Come on, Sam. You and your girlfriend are going to be late for class.”

Both Sam and April’s face glowed red as they made a failed attempt to look each other in the eye. “Uh, right.” Sam cleared his throat and made to leave but Coach Schneider’s hand was still on his shoulder. He looked up to indicate that he couldn’t move and Coach Schneider clapped in him hard on the back and let go.

“You stay outta trouble, Sam,” he said lightly and then walked away.

April laughed as they hurried to class. “You buddies with Coach Schneider already? I hear he’s cool.”

Sam shrugged, the remnants of whatever had just happened between him and April lingering warm in his belly. “He’s an old war buddy of Dad’s. He helped us get the house we live in and set Dean and Dad up with some jobs.”

“Well, I guess he’s a good friend to have,” she smiled, entering their classroom.

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “He’s super.”

In study hall, he got a head start on research. He was supposed to be in the school’s library with the rest of his class, but he snuck out and headed to the computer lab which didn’t have a class for the rest of the day. He picked the lock and eased inside. He browsed the internet for fire monsters while running a couple of searches in the local library’s database for local history and references of the supernatural.

By the time the period was almost over and he needed to get back to the library, Sam had a list of fire monsters - some improbable possibilities, others not. The first of the list was Destroyah, which was actually a monster from the Japanese Godzilla franchise, but Dean would love the possibility and Sam wasn’t about to rule anything out yet. Next could be a pyrokinetic human, though Sam couldn’t find any previous pyrokinetics in his initial search. There was a Basan, a fire-breathing chicken monster. Another possibility was a chimera which breathed fire but was associated with volcanoes and since they weren’t in Hawaii Sam seriously doubted that a chimera was a possibility.

Sam typed in “fire demons” because mythological monsters were sounding less probable with each new website he visited. There was Marbas, a Duke of Hell in the shape of “a powerful lion that vomits fire”. Then there was Moloch, one of the first of ten evil Sephiroth in Kabalistic tradition, with an element of fire and referred to as a “demon of unwilling sacrifice”. It was possible that the people being burned were sacrifices to this demon, in which case the culprit could be a witch. Sam grew sick with the possibilities. Only Dad had ever encountered demons-only two, actually. If there was even a possibility of demons Dad instructed both Sam and Dean to stay behind, working closely with Caleb, Bobby, or Pastor Jim instead.

Johann Wier’s Pseudomanarchia Daemonum held more information about these demons but wasn’t found at the local library. Sam made a note to ask for an interlibrary loan when he got to the library that afternoon. He quickly grew frustrated that the library didn’t have any of his usual references. Dad had a copy of Agrippa, but neither they nor the library had a copy of The Lesser Key of Solomon. He would spend today digging into the local history. He would also bring up newspapers around the time and area of Mom’s death. As far as he knew, Mom was the only person that died by fire in the Lawrence area whereas here there have already been two deaths.

Sam erased his browser history and as the computer was shutting down he saw a shadow pass by the small window in the door. Sam ducked and stayed still for a minute, listening. It was probably just a student or a teacher passing by, but Sam was again reminded of the figure he had seen in the hall before lunch. He scuttled to the door, still squatting down, and listened intently but again didn’t hear anything. Cautiously, he stood up and peeked out of the window. No one was standing there or nearby.

Sam locked the door and made his way back to the school library, senses alert but not seeing or hearing anyone. He hoped that they played basketball again in P.E. next period. Maybe he could work out his nerves and anxiety.

Sam thought Dad should be calling in reinforcements, but suspected that even if it turned out to be a fire demon or Godzilla’s nemesis, Dad wouldn’t call for help if he thought that it might be Mom’s killer. He would want to keep revenge in the family and, despite wanting safety for his family, Sam couldn’t help but agree. He hadn’t sacrificed sixteen years of his life for a woman he didn’t even know to just give it up to a stranger.

Part B
http://jcrgirl.livejournal.com/27012.html#cutid1