I wanna feel the car crash [I wanna feel the capsize]
[Eeeep!]
[typist note:Lawyer!Sam. Basically Claire's mun and I decided the Volvo had to die because seriously...it's a Volvo and not even a cool one like Edward Cullen's]
He’s got one wrist draped across the steering wheel and he turns it up, bowing his head as he covers a yawn. He’s got a final exam in the morning and he’s been at the library all night studying for it. Occasionally he misses the dorm room he used to live in but Jess had wanted an apartment off campus. What Jess had wanted, she’d gotten.
The light is green and he’s flipping through songs on his iPod as he drives through it. The squeal of tires makes him look up and in hindsight, he should have gunned it. Fear trumps intelligence and the Volvo never stood a chance. The Mack truck hits him squarely, pushing the hunk of metal the Volvo quickly becomes several yards. Sam’s head hits the driver’s side with enough force to starburst the window, red smudged against the glass. The airbags deploy and the seatbelt jerks him hard enough that there will be a bruise across his body in the morning. The headlights are blinding; he can hear the crunch of glass and blurry vision clues him into the silhouette walking toward him.
The demon pulls the door off the hinges, tossing it aside like cardboard. Sam has the Colt leveled at him, leaning back and he’s aching so damn much. He’s not afraid. He’s not afraid. He’s not afraid.
He’s not afraid. He was born for this.
“Back. Or I'll kill you, I swear to god.”
“You won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else,” the demon chuckles, secure in this knowledge.
Sam cocks the gun, just as secure in the knowledge that he will protect this little family and the only home they’ve ever known. “You wanna bet?”
The demon grins, stretching it’s meat’s lips into an unnatural, ghastly smile. Black ichor pours out of the body, releasing the demon and Sam uncocks the gun, leaning his head back and releasing the breath he’d been holding.
Maybe he’d been a little bit afraid.
“Oh my god!”
It’s the horror in the man’s voice that makes him remember, that makes him realize what’s just happened. “Dad?”
“Did I do this?” the man asks, panic growing as he takes stock of the accident.
“Dad! Dean? Dean!!” He can’t trump Sam’s panic though
“Hey! Kid, you alright?”
His head aches and furrowing his brow only makes it worse. He looks up to the man that’s pounding on the window. “Uhm…yeah…I think so.”
“I called the cops. Man, I don’t know what happened. I coulda swore the light was green. Last minute I look up and it’s red. I look back to the road…I tried to stop.”
Sam manages to get free of the seat belt and the airbag, experimentally moving arms and legs to find that everything aches like hell but it all works. He tilts the rear view mirror down to see that there’s blood on his head but it’s already slowed and a bruise is beginning to form around his eye, his lip is busted and his nose is trickling blood. Air bags sting like a bitch when they deploy. The Volvo door opens with a protesting squeal, forcing Sam to put his shoulder into it. He steps back, boots crunching against the glass and shakes his head.
It’s pretty much a total loss.
[typist note:Lawyer!Sam. Basically Claire's mun and I decided the Volvo had to die because seriously...it's a Volvo and not even a cool one like Edward Cullen's]
He’s got one wrist draped across the steering wheel and he turns it up, bowing his head as he covers a yawn. He’s got a final exam in the morning and he’s been at the library all night studying for it. Occasionally he misses the dorm room he used to live in but Jess had wanted an apartment off campus. What Jess had wanted, she’d gotten.
The light is green and he’s flipping through songs on his iPod as he drives through it. The squeal of tires makes him look up and in hindsight, he should have gunned it. Fear trumps intelligence and the Volvo never stood a chance. The Mack truck hits him squarely, pushing the hunk of metal the Volvo quickly becomes several yards. Sam’s head hits the driver’s side with enough force to starburst the window, red smudged against the glass. The airbags deploy and the seatbelt jerks him hard enough that there will be a bruise across his body in the morning. The headlights are blinding; he can hear the crunch of glass and blurry vision clues him into the silhouette walking toward him.
The demon pulls the door off the hinges, tossing it aside like cardboard. Sam has the Colt leveled at him, leaning back and he’s aching so damn much. He’s not afraid. He’s not afraid. He’s not afraid.
He’s not afraid. He was born for this.
“Back. Or I'll kill you, I swear to god.”
“You won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else,” the demon chuckles, secure in this knowledge.
Sam cocks the gun, just as secure in the knowledge that he will protect this little family and the only home they’ve ever known. “You wanna bet?”
The demon grins, stretching it’s meat’s lips into an unnatural, ghastly smile. Black ichor pours out of the body, releasing the demon and Sam uncocks the gun, leaning his head back and releasing the breath he’d been holding.
Maybe he’d been a little bit afraid.
“Oh my god!”
It’s the horror in the man’s voice that makes him remember, that makes him realize what’s just happened. “Dad?”
“Did I do this?” the man asks, panic growing as he takes stock of the accident.
“Dad! Dean? Dean!!” He can’t trump Sam’s panic though
“Hey! Kid, you alright?”
His head aches and furrowing his brow only makes it worse. He looks up to the man that’s pounding on the window. “Uhm…yeah…I think so.”
“I called the cops. Man, I don’t know what happened. I coulda swore the light was green. Last minute I look up and it’s red. I look back to the road…I tried to stop.”
Sam manages to get free of the seat belt and the airbag, experimentally moving arms and legs to find that everything aches like hell but it all works. He tilts the rear view mirror down to see that there’s blood on his head but it’s already slowed and a bruise is beginning to form around his eye, his lip is busted and his nose is trickling blood. Air bags sting like a bitch when they deploy. The Volvo door opens with a protesting squeal, forcing Sam to put his shoulder into it. He steps back, boots crunching against the glass and shakes his head.
It’s pretty much a total loss.