[Fic] She Destroys You Line By Line (5/5)
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
He’s in the diner in Wyoming again, only this time he doesn't remember walking through the door. The waitress is missing, leaving the place dark and quiet and empty. Sam shivers, he's got goosebumps pimpling along his arms.
"Hello?" he calls out, taking a step towards the counter where the waitress had been sitting behind last time. From there he can see into the kitchen. There's no one there either, but all the lights are still on. In the kitchen Sam can see steam rising from what must have been the stove.
Everyone was all gone...?
"Hello," a solemn, deep voice answers. Sam whirls, hands instinctively going to the waistband of his pants... where there is no gun hidden inside. Where there hasn’t been a gun for almost a year. Great. Sam steels himself for a fight. At the other end of the room there's a man standing partially in the shadows, hands held loosely at his sides and face set in a strangely familiar expression of calm. "You do not remember me."
It was more a statement of fact than a question. Sam frowns, not relaxing his stance just yet.
"Should I?"
The man tilts his head and even in the shadows Sam could see his eyebrows furrow like he’s trying to work out just what Sam was. For some odd reason that alone makes Sam gulp nervously.
"No, perhaps not."
The man walks to a booth and slides inside in one swift move then gestures to the seat across from him. He’s looking at Sam expectantly. Sam just eyes him back.
"I only come to talk, I mean you no harm, Sam."
“Then where is everyone else?” Sam questions, wary. The man frowns again, thoughtful.
“They have been put to rest.”
Sam stares, inexplicably comforted by the thought even as the concept slides just out of his comprehension’s reach-like grasping at clouds.
Yet when Sam makes no move to step away from the counter the man suddenly pleads, face instantly animated and alive with the action. It was like the fairy breathing life into Pinocchio, making him real. Question was, who was breathing life into him?
"Please, Sam."
--
Dad came back to the motel smelling of smoke and wood. Dean barely spared him a glance as he hit redial for what had to have been the twentieth time.
Sam had called. Sam had called and the signal cut out.
’We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is temporarily out of service…’
Dean slammed the phone down. He didn’t want his last words to Sam to be ‘I can’t hear you’. He buried his face in his hands.
--
“Sam called,” Dean told Dad after reluctantly giving up. Dad’s back was to Dean, he was sifting through his supplies, taking inventory on what he had left-presumably. He had gone still when Dean spoke and half turned to look at him.
"What did he say?"
Dean shook his head. Sam could have told him the nuclear codes for a Russian missile and Dean wouldn't have understood. "It cut out before he could say anything."
"So we know then that he has his phone," Dad mused, not the least bit ruffled by any of the information. Dean envied that, wished he could ask Dad to spare him a cup of Calm The Fuck Down because right now Sam's phone was out of service when he had just made a call. That told Dean something was afoot and it was something bad and it had his brother's phone?
Maybe he didn't so much as envy Dad's calm as he wanted to tear it down to see if he at least still cared about Sam at all.
"Did you find the coin, Dean?"
Dean didn't say anything.
Dad looked up from his thoughts to stare across the room.
"Dean?"
"I just told you Sam called and you barely blinked," Dean replied, quiet. "You barely even derailed from this coin we're supposed to find."
"What do you want me to do, Dean? Panic? That the one sure fire way we'll never find Sam and if he's calling it means he's at least alright." Dean bit down on a stream of angry accusations, feeling the words bottle up and sit heavily just below his chest. If Dean was missing even Sam wouldn't be like this. He'd be tearing up the walls even as he plotted. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t Dad.
"Did you or did you not find the coin?"
"I found it," Dean replied. Dad nodded, satisfied.
"Can I see it?"
"I don't have it, I know where it is."
Dad frowned. "Why didn't you get it? Too many people around?"
"Yeah, it's in one of those trees along the 5th street drive. The area is really heavily trafficked so getting it in the daylight was kinda a bad idea," he grinned tightly, shaking his head. The lie felt heavy on his tongue, but Dad taught him well, he didn't so much as stumble. "My guess is that was Sam's idea of a forest in Arizona." Dad nodded.
"If he thought it was too dangerous to outright say where it was, then there's a good chance the other coins are like that as well." Dad paused, glancing at his watch. "It's nightfall in a few hours and it'll take that long to get there, we should go now."
"Right." Dean nodded, crossing over to his duffel to grab his guns as Dad turned back around to face his supplies. The gun made a loud click as he pulled the hammer back and aimed it at Dad's back. "But not before you give me my Dad back, you son of a bitch."
Dad went still again before slowly holding up his hands. He turned slowly in place until he was completely facing Dean. "Dean, what are you doing?" His face was dead set in an expression Dean had seen him use when heading towards a fight. Inwardly, he had to remind himself not to waver or it'd be the end of everything.
"Dean, put the gun down."
"You're not my dad."
"If you're so sure then shoot me." He stared Dean squarely in the eye. Dean wanted to shoot him just for doing that, because now he didn't know if he was right. If he was wrong. If what Dad was asking would kill him and set everything Sam had warned him against into motion. Dean grit his teeth. When he made no move Dad repeated, "Drop the gun, Dean."
"...No. I’m sorry, Dad." He was really sorry, he was. “I’ll get you out of this.”
Dad sighed in what almost seemed resignation before a grin broke out onto his face, almost appearing to split the skin like a mask forced out of its shape. "I guess the jig is up, huh?" Without warning, Dean went flying, slamming back into the wall behind him with a loud CRACK! as the air rushed from his lungs. Dean gasped desperately, the gun clattering to the floor.
Dad--no, the thing's grin widened, its eyes flashing yellow.
"Didn't daddy teach you not to play with guns?"
Edit: →TBC
He’s in the diner in Wyoming again, only this time he doesn't remember walking through the door. The waitress is missing, leaving the place dark and quiet and empty. Sam shivers, he's got goosebumps pimpling along his arms.
"Hello?" he calls out, taking a step towards the counter where the waitress had been sitting behind last time. From there he can see into the kitchen. There's no one there either, but all the lights are still on. In the kitchen Sam can see steam rising from what must have been the stove.
Everyone was all gone...?
"Hello," a solemn, deep voice answers. Sam whirls, hands instinctively going to the waistband of his pants... where there is no gun hidden inside. Where there hasn’t been a gun for almost a year. Great. Sam steels himself for a fight. At the other end of the room there's a man standing partially in the shadows, hands held loosely at his sides and face set in a strangely familiar expression of calm. "You do not remember me."
It was more a statement of fact than a question. Sam frowns, not relaxing his stance just yet.
"Should I?"
The man tilts his head and even in the shadows Sam could see his eyebrows furrow like he’s trying to work out just what Sam was. For some odd reason that alone makes Sam gulp nervously.
"No, perhaps not."
The man walks to a booth and slides inside in one swift move then gestures to the seat across from him. He’s looking at Sam expectantly. Sam just eyes him back.
"I only come to talk, I mean you no harm, Sam."
“Then where is everyone else?” Sam questions, wary. The man frowns again, thoughtful.
“They have been put to rest.”
Sam stares, inexplicably comforted by the thought even as the concept slides just out of his comprehension’s reach-like grasping at clouds.
Yet when Sam makes no move to step away from the counter the man suddenly pleads, face instantly animated and alive with the action. It was like the fairy breathing life into Pinocchio, making him real. Question was, who was breathing life into him?
"Please, Sam."
--
Dad came back to the motel smelling of smoke and wood. Dean barely spared him a glance as he hit redial for what had to have been the twentieth time.
Sam had called. Sam had called and the signal cut out.
’We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is temporarily out of service…’
Dean slammed the phone down. He didn’t want his last words to Sam to be ‘I can’t hear you’. He buried his face in his hands.
--
“Sam called,” Dean told Dad after reluctantly giving up. Dad’s back was to Dean, he was sifting through his supplies, taking inventory on what he had left-presumably. He had gone still when Dean spoke and half turned to look at him.
"What did he say?"
Dean shook his head. Sam could have told him the nuclear codes for a Russian missile and Dean wouldn't have understood. "It cut out before he could say anything."
"So we know then that he has his phone," Dad mused, not the least bit ruffled by any of the information. Dean envied that, wished he could ask Dad to spare him a cup of Calm The Fuck Down because right now Sam's phone was out of service when he had just made a call. That told Dean something was afoot and it was something bad and it had his brother's phone?
Maybe he didn't so much as envy Dad's calm as he wanted to tear it down to see if he at least still cared about Sam at all.
"Did you find the coin, Dean?"
Dean didn't say anything.
Dad looked up from his thoughts to stare across the room.
"Dean?"
"I just told you Sam called and you barely blinked," Dean replied, quiet. "You barely even derailed from this coin we're supposed to find."
"What do you want me to do, Dean? Panic? That the one sure fire way we'll never find Sam and if he's calling it means he's at least alright." Dean bit down on a stream of angry accusations, feeling the words bottle up and sit heavily just below his chest. If Dean was missing even Sam wouldn't be like this. He'd be tearing up the walls even as he plotted. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t Dad.
"Did you or did you not find the coin?"
"I found it," Dean replied. Dad nodded, satisfied.
"Can I see it?"
"I don't have it, I know where it is."
Dad frowned. "Why didn't you get it? Too many people around?"
"Yeah, it's in one of those trees along the 5th street drive. The area is really heavily trafficked so getting it in the daylight was kinda a bad idea," he grinned tightly, shaking his head. The lie felt heavy on his tongue, but Dad taught him well, he didn't so much as stumble. "My guess is that was Sam's idea of a forest in Arizona." Dad nodded.
"If he thought it was too dangerous to outright say where it was, then there's a good chance the other coins are like that as well." Dad paused, glancing at his watch. "It's nightfall in a few hours and it'll take that long to get there, we should go now."
"Right." Dean nodded, crossing over to his duffel to grab his guns as Dad turned back around to face his supplies. The gun made a loud click as he pulled the hammer back and aimed it at Dad's back. "But not before you give me my Dad back, you son of a bitch."
Dad went still again before slowly holding up his hands. He turned slowly in place until he was completely facing Dean. "Dean, what are you doing?" His face was dead set in an expression Dean had seen him use when heading towards a fight. Inwardly, he had to remind himself not to waver or it'd be the end of everything.
"Dean, put the gun down."
"You're not my dad."
"If you're so sure then shoot me." He stared Dean squarely in the eye. Dean wanted to shoot him just for doing that, because now he didn't know if he was right. If he was wrong. If what Dad was asking would kill him and set everything Sam had warned him against into motion. Dean grit his teeth. When he made no move Dad repeated, "Drop the gun, Dean."
"...No. I’m sorry, Dad." He was really sorry, he was. “I’ll get you out of this.”
Dad sighed in what almost seemed resignation before a grin broke out onto his face, almost appearing to split the skin like a mask forced out of its shape. "I guess the jig is up, huh?" Without warning, Dean went flying, slamming back into the wall behind him with a loud CRACK! as the air rushed from his lungs. Dean gasped desperately, the gun clattering to the floor.
Dad--no, the thing's grin widened, its eyes flashing yellow.
"Didn't daddy teach you not to play with guns?"
Edit: →TBC