CHANGING - Chapter 9/10
The person who is bent on killing you
will follow you wherever you are.
Edward Koch
Title: CHANGING
Author: Leigh Ann Wallace
Rating: PG
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters:Sam, Dean and Bobby
Word count: 1658
Summary: Sam is bitten by a shapeshifter. Are the legends true, will Sam change? How can Dean save him?
Spoilers: (if applicable) You're safe if you've season eps up to season five. Mention of Lucifer and the apocalypse
Warnings: (if applicable) Shameless Angst
Disclaimer: Pretty clear I don't own anything to do with Supernatural. Written out of love and passionate obsession.
OOOOOOOOOO
Dean smirked. "Our spooks aren't usually so easy to find." He looked down at the grave's marker.
Kate Morgan
Also known as
Lottie A. Bernard
Died Nov. 29, 1892
At aged 24 years
Sam shone his flashlight silently over the dead grass covering the grave, the wormwood flowers curling around the marker, both indicators of an unquiet spirit.
Dean grinned, teeth flashing in the dark. "Guess this is our girl."
"Yeah." Sam pulled the collapsible shovel out of his bag. "Keep her off me if she shows." He dug the blade of the shovel into the grass.
Dean racked his shotgun. "You got it, little brother."
Thrust, toss. Thrust, toss. Sam got an easy rhythm going. Pretty quickly, he was a few feet down into the grave.
After a few minutes, a little bored, Dean said, "You know, Dad was stationed here for a while when he was in the Marines, out at Camp Pendleton."
"Yeah, I know."
Dean walked a slow circle around the grave, keeping an eye on the moonlit shadows. "He loved it. Used to talk about the San Diego Zoo." He laughed. "Said they had an elephant ride, and a camel ride. And that 'Wild Kingdom' guy - you remember that show we used to watch when we were kids? Dad met him once. He was head of the zoo, or something."
"Marlon Perkins? That's pretty cool." Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Yeah." Dean looked up at the sky. Clouds were starting to gather. "Come on, let's move it. Looks like it's gonna rain."
"You want to change places?" As soon as he'd spoken, Sam's shovel struck the coffin with a dull, echoing thud. "Here it is." He scraped away the last of the dirt, smashed open the coffin and looked down at the skeletal remains. "We've got her, Dean."
He leapt out of the hole in one smooth, flowing movement, crouched down next to his duffel and pulled out the kerosene and matches.
"Okay." Dean kept scanning the surrounding area. "Let's burn the bitch and get the hell out of here."
"I'll do it. Just keep your eyes open." He doused the bones in kerosene. Lit a match.
"Uh - Sam?"
Sam looked up.
The ghost of a young, dark-haired woman stood between the brothers. Dressed in a long, dark gown, her hair was down around her shoulders; blood and matted hair surrounded an ugly hole in the side of her head. Sad, dark eyes stared at them accusingly.
In her hand, she held the spectre of a gun, trained squarely on Dean.
Dean held his ground but his voice was strained. "Sam, you going to light her up, or what?"
Sam tossed the match into the grave. Both remains and ghost blazed up with a gratifying whooossshhh and a wailing scream.
"Jerk. Why the hell didn't you just shoot her?"
"Because, bitch, you were in the way," Dean crabbed back.
"Rock salt," Sam said scornfully. "Like neither of us has been shot with that before!"
They grinned at each other.
Sam bent over to pick up the shovel. Wind rustling through the nearby palm trees brought a scent to him. As he rose swiftly, he felt the whiz of a bullet as it flew past his head, heard the heavy thwack! as it hit a nearby palm tree.
"Shit!" Dean dropped the shotgun and pulled out a handgun, ducking behind that same palm.
Sam lunged for the shelter of a nearby tombstone. Another shot rang out and a bullet creased his shoulder, sending him spinning around and nearly toppling into the open grave. Cursing, he pulled his gun out, throwing himself to the ground behind the stone.
"Sam!" Dean hissed frantically. "You okay?"
"Quiet!" Ignoring his shoulder, Sam listened to the encircling darkness. He could hear them out there now, several of them, moving to surround them. Hunters, had to be.
Bill. Sam's lip curled and a growl escaped him. How the hell had these bastards gotten so close without him hearing them?
A flurry of shots exploded against the tombstone he was sheltering behind and with a he flattened himself against the ground.
Beneath the sporadic shots, he could hear Dean circling around through the palms and cacti, looking for whoever was keeping him pinned down.
Screw that. He wasn't letting his brother get hurt. This was his fault, his fight. He left the cover of the tombstone and ran flat out toward the muzzle flashes.
Another hit, this time to his right thigh. Sam stumbled, fell and then rolled back to his feet.
"Damn it, Sam!" Dean started to charge toward his brother but a shadow stepped out from behind a nearby tree and dusted his head with the butt of a revolver. Stunned, he fell to his knees. Bill grabbed him by the hair, holding the muzzle of his gun to Dean's head.
Sam was ten feet away. Too far away to do more than watch as Bill killed his brother, if that's what he wanted to do.
Bill cocked his gun and a shudder ran over Sam. "Don't."
The hunter smirked. "Don't really think you're in a position to be giving orders, shithead."
Sam could hear the others coming. He needed them to stay away. Bill, he could control. Add a couple more hot-tempered hunters into the mix, he and Dean could both end up dead. He raised his voice; it carried clearly to the approaching hunters.
"Bill, Lucifer is looking for me. Right now. Do you know why?"
"Sam, don't!"
"Shut up!" Bill raked the sight of his pistol across Dean's head roughly. "Hell, I don't know," he sneered at Sam. "Maybe he's hot for you. Won't matter, soon. You'll be dead."
"Oh, it matters," Sam said quietly. "It matters a lot. I'm his vessel. His true vessel."
Bill gaped at him, stunned. "You son of a bitch!"
"The one he's got now is kind of a loaner." Sam smiled grimly. "It won't last long."
"That's just another damned good reason to kill you, Winchester," Bill spat.
"He'll burn through that body, and anyone else he squats in, pretty quick," Sam continued. "Until he gets hold of me. I'm a keeper."
The muzzle of the gun drifted toward Sam and then shifted quickly back to Dean.
Sam could hear the baited breath in the trees around them. "If I say yes," he said clearly, "the world ends. Because me and Lucifer? We're a match made in freaking heaven."
The hunter drew a deep breath, caressed the trigger of his gun.
"You're thinking if you kill me, it's all over." Sam said softly, and shook his head. "He'll just bring me back. Over and over again, until I say yes."
"So what's your damned point?"
Sam's smile was hellish. "My point is that if you kill Dean, I'll say yes."
Dean's eyes widened with panic. "Sam, no!"
Sam ignored him. "If Dean dies, I'll say yes. I swear -" he raised his hand toward Heaven - "I swear to God I will." He laughed and the sound of it was wild. "I don't care if the world burns. I don't care if every man, woman and child on the planet dies bloody. If Dean dies, I've got nothing left. Nothing but vengeance."
Sam took a step closer to them, face shadowed, eyes yellow. "So before you get careless with that gun, know this: Five minutes after Dean hits the ground, you'll be strung up on a rack in Hell and I'll be carving my initials into your fucking scrotum!"
Bill's breath, and his nerve, left him. His gun fell to the ground and Dean snatched it up, jumping to his feet.
Sam moved toward Bill, face hard, hands clenched. Blood trailed down his arm from the bullet in his shoulder, from his thigh.
"Sam, stop." Dean stepped in front of the cowed hunter, who was gaping at Sam with terrified fascination. Growling, Sam thrust Dean aside and, grasping Bill roughly by the back of the neck, shouted to the surrounding darkness."You assholes hear all that? You can't kill me -- " he laughed bitterly -- "Not permanently. And if you kill my brother, the world burns! Do you hear me?"
There was no answer. After a minute, they heard an engine start up nearby and tires burning rubber. Bill slumped in Sam's grip.
The fire slowly faded from Sam's eyes. Still holding tight to his captive, he looked into the man's defeated face for a long moment.
"Good-bye, Bill."
Dean started forward. "No!"
With one quick, wrenching movement, Sam broke Bill's neck.
Stunned, Dean froze, watched Sam release the body, saw it collapse bonelessly to the ground. "Jesus!"
Sam stared down at the crumpled body. He couldn't bring himself to regret killing the bastard, not even for a moment, but he came close when he saw the horror-struck expression on Dean's face.
"Sammy, what the hell did you do?"
"He would have come for me again." Sam said pleadingly. "You remember what Carl said. He doesn't - didn't - like being beaten. He would've decided I was bluffing about saying yes. He would've decided it was worth the risk."
Not sure he wanted to hear the answer, Dean asked, "Were you bluffing?"
Sam didn't answer. That in itself, of course, was an answer.
Heart heavy, Sam looked toward the open grave. "Good thing we haven't filled it in yet," he said in a subdued voice. He took Bill's corpse by the back of the shirt, dragged it over to the grave and dumped it in on top of Kate's smoldering coffin. Working swiftly, he dumped salt and lighter fluid over the corpse and lit it. Flame filled the hole.
Dean watched, silent and afraid for his brother.
As they both stood over the now doubly-occupied grave, bodies and ashes, Sam gave the only epitaph Bill would ever have.
"Dad was wrong, Dean. Sometimes - humans just need killing."