Night of the Boy King, Part Two (3/6)
Art Title:
Prompt Number: S1025
Artist: expectative
Fic Title: Night of the Boy King
Author: safiyabat
Beta: elwarre
Fandom/Genre: SPN, angst, Wincest,
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean, past Sam/OCs
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 32,157 (entire fic), 5,294 (this chapter)
Warnings: Some explicit sexual content, show-level violence, demonic possession, using the "big boy words." Wincest.
Summary: John Winchester realized that something was "off" about Sammy when the boy was about seven. He abandoned him with the best demonologist he knew, Pastor Jim Murphy in Blue Earth, Minnesota. A little over ten years later, his older son Dean is ready to take on the demon that destroyed his family. All signs point to Blue Earth.
Dean didn’t need to be told twice to hightail it out of the vicinity - a stranger to town making off with a guy who had been seen beating a star football player close to death didn’t look good from anyone’s perspective, and sure maybe Pastor Jim could smooth it over and maybe he couldn’t, but Dean wasn’t about to put his trust in someone whose falling-out with his dad had caused a ten-year gap in their correspondence. That kind of attention wouldn’t do much for his ability to do his job either way. So he sneaked his way back to the Impala and hid Travis under some blankets in the back seat, making sure to obey all speed limits as he followed signs to the church.
As he drew closer to Pastor Jim’s place he started to notice some familiar sights. Funny how many things could change in ten years, he thought to himself. He was focused on the kid in the back, who was starting to show signs of waking up, but he still took note of some of the places. The town hadn’t gotten bigger, that was for certain. The same old Midwestern-style architecture still predominated, built to last and not replaced unless it had to be. The little mom-and-pop pharmacy next to the church had been replaced by a Walgreens, for example, but it had been housed in a building that had been there since the late nineteenth century and survived three floods. The Walgreens might have devoured the diner next door and a dumpy little furniture store besides, but they’d done it within the same building. The essential landscape of the town hadn’t changed. They’d opened up a thrift store next to the Walgreens, too - that was nice, convenient. Dad would be - he cut that thought off. It was convenient for him. That was enough.
He pulled into the rectory driveway, where Bobby helped him pull Travis from the back. “Sam called,” he informed. “From the ambulance.”
“Jeez, how did he manage to warn you all in front of the paramedics?” Dean marveled, looking from his mentor to the priest. Jim looked older - well, who wouldn’t? Ten years was a long time.
“Oh, he spoke openly in front of them,” Jim told him drily. “Just in Latin.” He grinned slightly. “Take him into the rectory and put him on the couch.”
“He speaks Latin well enough to just go off the cuff like that?” Bobby lifted his eyebrows. “That’s a little… unusual.”
“My nephew’s been studying Latin since he was… oh, three or four, I think. He showed an interest and there was no reason not to teach him, so why not? Now he dreams in Latin.” The pastor chuckled giving a little shake of his head.
Dean bit his lip. He didn’t want to get the kid in trouble if he didn’t have to. “Does he study at school?” He and Bobby followed their host into the small building and laid the groggy teenager out onto the couch.
Travis blinked. “Father Murphy?” he asked. “What - how did I get here?”
The priest passed him a cup of water that had already been waiting on the table. Dean suspected it contained holy water; it’s what he would have done. Sure it had looked like Sam had exorcised the demon from the poor kid, but it never hurt to be certain. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen demons fake it before. “Relax, Travis. Just… just tell me what you remember.”
“The last thing I remember clearly was being at home last night,” the boy told them. “I was just hanging around doing my homework. There was this thick, black smoke and then there’s just bits and pieces. I got into a fight with Clay - I mean…” He trailed off and glanced at Jim, blushing deeply. “I… I remember hitting him. Only I wasn’t in control. I tried to stop but something else was pushing it, moving my hand -” Tears started streaming down the boy’s face. “Do you know - is he…?”
“He was still alive when I spoke with my nephew,” the priest confirmed. “Sam couldn’t give me any idea of his condition but he was still alive at the time.” He urged the water onto the boy, holding his hand.
Travis gulped at the water. All three of the men attending on him watched closely, but nothing happened. Dean let out a slow breath, hoping neither of the others noticed.
“Son, you were possessed by a demon,” Bobby explained. Dean hadn’t ever heard him use such a gentle voice, not even when Dad had died. “I know that’s… that’s a lot to take in.”
“A demon?” Travis’ chin wavered, but after a single shuddering breath he pulled himself together. “It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever felt. It was like being hollowed out - like a jack-o-lantern. It was my body, but I couldn’t… I was being used, and it didn’t matter how hard I fought or how loud I screamed. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t. I tried.”
“How did you finally get rid of it?” Bobby wanted to know.
“You don’t think I could have exorcised it?” Dean smirked.
“Boy, you need to look at the book and half the time you still mispronounce the Latin,” his mentor huffed.
“No. The thing inside me - he thought you were kind of funny. He remembered your father. But no - it was the other one. The demon was afraid of your nephew, Father. He was afraid of Sam.” Travis swallowed more water, looking up into the priest’s eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it except to say that he was afraid.”
“I guess your nephew got the exorcism right, then,” Dean quipped.
“He usually does.” Jim smiled with quiet pride, although he didn’t look directly at anyone. “You have no idea how saddened I was that he didn’t have a priestly vocation. He’s quite the exorcist.”
“It was like the… the thing was just pulled right out of my body,” Travis reported. His face had gone pale, and he had sweated right through his clothes. “I mean, I could feel the tugging. It didn’t feel great, but I kind of figured out what was going on and shoved.”
“Smart move,” Bobby commented. “You probably helped to save your own life.”
“Well, maybe. But… I mean, what happens next, sir? I mean, the whole town saw what they thought was me try to kill my boyfriend.”
Jim sighed. “It’s awkward. I don’t know if you’ll be able to salvage things with Clay, to be honest. It depends on how much of the truth he can make himself believe. You pretty much have two options at this point. You can run. Your life will be more or less over, but these gentlemen here can help you set up a false identity. They can teach you a little bit about how to keep yourself safe from that kind of thing ever happening again.
“Or,” the priest continued, “you can stay. After a couple of hours I can call the police and tell them that you came to me and I can coach you through what to say and when to say it. Parts of your life here will change. The way that people view you here will change. But you’ll still be here. These gentlemen will still help me to help you protect yourself. And everyone will move on.”
Travis drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t suppose we can wait and see what happens with Clay?”
Jim smiled gently. “Of course. I’m sure you’re worried sick about him.” He grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the sofa and covered the teen with it. “Come on, boys. Let’s let him have some privacy.”
Dean took his cue and headed into the kitchen. This, at least, hadn’t changed. Everything was still humble, still simple. A crucifix still hung on the wall, although a report card had been tacked onto the refrigerator too. Apparently Sam Murphy got straight A’s. Of course you do, Dean thought meanly.
“Dean,” Jim told him. “Bobby told me about your father. I’m very sorry for your loss.” He indicated the chairs, Dean’s seat at the table like he was still eight years old.
“Thanks, sir. Truth be told I didn’t know if I should make myself scarce. I know you and Dad had a bit of a falling out,” Dean admitted. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“Oh, Dean. Believe me, there never was anything that I wouldn’t do for you boys. And there never will be anything I wouldn’t do for you,” the priest declared, putting a hand on his. “What happened between your father and me was between your father and me. It’s nothing to do with you and you should never have suffered for it.”
“That means a lot to me, sir.” He could feel himself tearing up. When John had died he’d felt like his world had narrowed down to one person and now it had opened up again. He didn’t have his blood kin anymore, but all of these connections that John had squandered were coming back. “I, uh… I mean, thanks.”
“I’m sorry that you have to work a demon case again so soon,” Jim told him. “I’m just glad we were able to wrap it up so quickly.”
“I’m not so sure that we did,” Bobby demurred. “It sounds to me like the demon your boy exorcised from Travis here was kind of small potatoes to be the same demon we’ve been chasing, am I right?”
Dean bit back a curse. “Those were some pretty significant demon signs,” he admitted. “And you said Sam’s an experienced exorcist. That means he gets lots of practice. Probably on guys like the one in Travis.”
Jim sat back and sighed. “Are you suggesting that there’s a larger demon here? Or trying to get here?”
“It’s possible. I showed you my research, padre,” Bobby pointed out. “And the demon that possessed John Winchester…”
Dean flinched. “Can we not?”
“Sorry, son, but I think we have to,” his mentor told him. “It’s clearly relevant. The demon that possessed him passed on some information. Said that little Sammy was the key, out of all of the Winchesters.”
Jim paled. “Sammy Winchester died more than ten years ago, Bobby. You know this. He can’t be the key to anything demonic. He’s dead. John burned him and I helped.”
“I know, Jim,” Bobby soothed, putting a hand between the priest’s tense shoulder blades. “I know. But hear me out, okay? What if whatever the demon had planned, back in the day when it killed Mary Winchester, needed the blood of a Winchester child? They do this kind of crap all the time, you know they do. Sammy’s gone, but they’ve still got Dean-o.”
“No.” Jim shook his head. “What would they need with a child of John and Mary?”
“I don’t know. Someone as stubborn as two mules put together?” Bobby glared at Dean, but with affection.
“Right here, guys.” Dean squirmed. “Come on. Let’s take this seriously, can we? I mean, you’re right. It does seem like there’s… something significant coming through and the thing that had Travis was minor. Not to Travis, of course - his life is ruined either way. But it was minor.”
The rectory phone rang, and Dean couldn’t help it. He jumped. Jim answered it, as was only right. “St. Joseph’s - oh, hi, Sam. Yes, they’re here. Fabulous, I’ll come get - oh. I see. Well, I’ll see you soon then.” He hung up the phone. “Sam is on his way home. Clay’s parents are at the hospital so they don’t need Sam to wait for him.”
“How’s he getting here?” Bobby wanted to know.
“An Officer Clark is giving him a lift.” He sighed and shook his head.
“Bit of a handful, is he?” Bobby asked sagely.
“For the most part, no. Sam is as good of a child as a man could expect - especially a man like me who never expected a child in the first place. But his family, his biological family, abandoned him and he’s never really gotten over that. I wish I could help him with that, but I suppose an old priest can’t be everything to a growing boy.” He sighed.
“You’re hardly old, Pastor Jim,” Dean offered.
“Aren’t you sweet. Anyway, the boy should be home soon. Although it sounds like you’ve already met.”
Sam Murphy pulled up to the door not ten minutes later, sitting in the front seat of a police cruiser with a very young-looking cop. The cop was laughing and Sam had a shy smile on his young face. Dean fought a surge of jealousy. It wasn’t like he had the right to be jealous - he and the kid had barely exchanged a few words, after all. And oh yeah - the kid was a kid, underage. He had no right to even look at the boy. Of course, neither did the cop, and there was no way his motivations were pure. Not with the way his eyes kept falling to the boy’s lips… Dean caught himself and shook his head. Not only had he never been into guys, but he’d never been jealous either. Maybe the demonic influence on this town was deeper than he’d thought.
He’d changed his clothes, Dean realized as Murphy strode up the walk to the rectory door. He wore a police tee shirt that was a little too small for him, emphasizing his upper chest, and some sweats that had been dug up from somewhere. Pastor Jim raised an eyebrow. “Where are your clothes, Sam?”
“Medical waste,” the exorcist admitted. “They were -” He cut himself off when he saw that Travis was awake on the couch. “The clothes weren’t salvageable. Clay is in surgery. The scans were scary, I’ll admit it. The demon did a number on him. But they were very hopeful, Travis. They have every reason to think that he’ll make a decent recovery.”
The golfer burst into tears and Sam quickly took a seat beside him, taking his hand and pulling him in so he could sob on his solid chest. “Does it help to know that you’re not the only one this has happened to, Travis?” Sam asked him after a moment.
“But why me?” the kid asked plaintively. “Is it something that I did - something I did to make myself attractive to it?”
“No. There’s no rhyme or reason to who they attack. They’ve taken priests, they’ve taken druggies. They’ve possessed little kids too young to know right from wrong. It’s usually a convenience thing.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing you did, Travis. But you can take some steps to make it less likely that they can get in again. Nothing is foolproof, okay?”
Bobby stepped forward with a charm on a string and took over the discussion, explaining about devil’s traps and exorcisms. “And you know about all of this why?” Travis asked, stunned by the amount of information flowing at him. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you do. But… why?”
“My mom was killed by a demon. My little brother too. My father dedicated both of our lives to hunting down the thing that got them, but it got him in the end,” Dean explained.
“A demon possessed my wife, Karen,” Bobby told him. “She didn’t survive.”
Pastor Jim smiled gently. “The Church sees fit to keep some of Her servants trained in handling Hell’s servants. I happen to be one of them; otherwise I suspect the diocese would have closed down St. Joseph’s years ago. Sam here has spent his entire life as an exorcist; it isn’t as if I could hide it from him.”
The teen gave his uncle a huge smile. “I wouldn’t want you to,” he said. “But look - there are others out there who fight evil. It’s not like these guys are the only ones, okay?”
“Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat, Sam,” Jim suggested. “You and Dean can get a snack, maybe get some groceries or something. Us old farts can hang out with Travis and keep the home fires burning.”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He could behave himself around Sam. He could.
Sam grinned. “Give me a minute. They didn’t exactly have spare sweats in my size down at the PD.” He glided up the stairs.
Bobby raised an eyebrow. “You been training that boy as a hunter, Jim?”
“Never hurts to be prepared, Bobby. They’ll be coming for him eventually, why shouldn’t he be ready for them when they get here? Besides, he can’t hide out here forever.” He sighed, looking impossibly old for a moment.
Sam reappeared after a moment, clad in more modest clothing. Dean wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not. “I’m ready to go if you are.”
Dean was, so Sam led the way into the town center. A few people waved or nodded at the young man as they made their way down the sidewalk; clearly the tall young man was as much a fixture around here as the Jolly Green Giant statue. “So what’s your deal, then?” Sam asked. “You just wander the country, looking for demons?”
“Among other things,” Dean told him. “I mean, I’m looking for one thing in particular but if I find something else I have to take it out, you know?”
“Anything at all?”
“Well sure. I mean, if it’s supernatural it has to go, right?” He blinked. The kid had to know that already, if Pastor Jim was training him as a hunter. “So you just live with Pastor Jim and do what - exorcise demons after school?”
Sam gave a little laugh. It might have sounded a little forced, but that could have been Dean just being paranoid. “Uh, pretty much. It’s kind of what I do, I guess. For now.”
“For now?”
“I’m heading off to Stanford in the fall.”
“Stanford? That’s… I mean, college, man. Hunters don’t go to college.”
Sam turned those dimples on him and no human could have resisted them. No human at all. “Good thing I’m not a hunter then, isn’t it?” His tone was gentle, teasing.
“’Course you are,” Dean retorted. “Look at you. Exorcising demons without batting an eye, the way you move - you could hunt like it was in your blood, Sam. Think of all the people you could save. College would be a complete waste for you.”
He huffed. “Mmm-hmm. And you think that I’d be happy never having a home, never being in the same place for more than two days at a time.”
“People need your skills, Sam.”
“And they’ll need them just as much at Stanford.” He grinned again.
Dean groaned. “Those dimples should be registered as lethal weapons, man.”
The younger boy’s grin shifted, became a little more predatory. “Oh yeah?”
“Sure.” Dean licked his lips, remembered himself. The kid was underage, the ward of someone he had to work with. “Sounds like you’re a popular tutor, anyway. I overheard a couple of the girls talking about some, uh, creative rewards you came up with to encourage someone named Nell with her Latin.”
To his credit the boy blushed a little, although he seemed at least as amused by the gossip as he was embarrassed by it. “Aw, I can’t take credit for that. It was all Nell’s plan; I just went along with it.”
“You were just being a good tutor, giving her whatever would help her out,” Dean grinned.
“Whatever brought her grades up, man. She’s plenty bright; she doesn’t deserve to lose out on scholarships or get held back from going to her choice of colleges because of a lower grade in Latin, you know?”
“And you’d have done the same if she’d been ugly. Or a dude.”
He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“And how long did you date Miss Nell after she was done with Latin?”
“Aw, little Sammy’s playmates don’t tend to stick around.” The voice was a weird combination of harsh and silken, attached to a woman. The woman hadn’t been there a moment ago and there was no alley, no shadowed storefront for her to have jumped out from. “Once they’ve gotten what they want out of our golden boy here they like their distance. Don’t they, little brother?” The woman wasn’t tall, only about five foot four, with short blonde hair and prominent cheekbones. Her eyes were the biggest clue about her identity; they gleamed, inky and black, in her heart-shaped face.
Sam’s entire demeanor changed. “Meg,” he snarled, thrusting Dean behind him with a strength he didn’t look like he should have. “We sent you back to the Pit months ago.”
She snickered. “That’s the thing, Sammy-boy. When you send us to Hell we just climb back out, and then we’re pissed. Plus, we’ve usually learned some fun new tricks while we’re at it.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw set. “You’re not the only one who’s learned some new tricks, Meg.”
“Mmm. But are you going to use them in front of pretty boy here? Out here in the open? I mean, you’ve got something to lose here. You still think you get to live here, in this town, Mr. All-American Boy. I mean really, Sam.” She snorted and flipped her hand at the storefronts around her. The windows exploded into thousands of little knives. Dean brought his arm up to protect his eyes. “Don’t you get tired of faking it?”
“I’m not faking anything.” None of the shards had even come close to Sam. It seemed improbable, especially given the perfect circle of glass-free space around both him and Dean, but here they were. “But I’m not going to let you hurt these people. Any of them.”
She smiled. The host was pretty but that smile was probably the single nastiest thing that Dean had ever seen on a human face, stolen or not. “Especially not pretty boy here,” she surmised. Dean felt dirty just hearing that come out of her mouth. “I see how it is. Dad’s not going to wait forever, Sammy.”
“Not my father,” the boy gritted out, and began the words to the exorcism.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she sneered, and then she was gone again.
“Run,” Sam told Dean.
Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Sam’s hand, though, and dragged him along behind him.
Back at the rectory Jim and Bobby were very interested to hear about the encounter, although for very different reasons. Jim looked somber, even a bit worried. Bobby was concerned. “Are you telling me that your father is a demon, boy?” he asked Sam, standing up and moving closer to him.
“His father is not a demon,” the priest injected with a scowl, coming to stand between Bobby and Sam. “He’s a piss-poor excuse for a father, but he’s not a demon. It’s something that the other side’s been trying to tell him for a while now.”
“And why would they be saying that, now?” Dean’s mentor wanted to know. His eyes narrowed over his beard, giving him an almost inquisitorial appearance. “Why would that even pop into their black-eyed little heads if there weren’t a grain of truth to it?”
“Do you have any idea how many of them he’s sent back to Hell?” The priest’s face was ablaze with indignation. “They’re trying to rattle him, Bobby. And they’re trying to get hunters to view him with suspicion, which I’d say is working.”
“She called him ‘little brother,’” Dean sighed. “That implies a lot more than just the usual demon bitch screwing around with a guy, you know?”
Sam turned those eyes on him, stunning and vulnerable and impossible to deny. Dean had to look away as the teen said, “She’s not my goddamn sister - sorry, Uncle Jim. She’s not my sister. I never had a sister. Never, even before.”
“So you remember your family,” Bobby prodded, arms crossed over his chest.
“Sure I do. Not a lot. Bits and pieces. And I know they weren’t demons.” His mouth twisted on the word. “They were humans. Normal humans. I had a father and a brother.”
“Where are they now?” Bobby pressed.
“Who knows? Who cares? They dumped me in a church and never looked back.” Sam’s eyes blazed. “But I never had a sister. If you want to kill me on some demon’s word - if you think the word of a creature that steals humans’ bodies from them is worth more than mine, someone who’s been exorcising demons since before he needed to shave - then go ahead and do it. Just get it the hell over with and stop your posturing.”
Bobby blinked. “No one’s talking about killing you, Sam.”
“Bullshit.” Sam shouldered his way past the older men and headed up to his room.
The remaining men exchanged glances. “I really hope Travis didn’t hear any of that,” Jim said with a glower before leaving the kitchen.
Bobby glanced at Dean. “It sounds like this is getting big, boy.”
“That ain’t the half of it,” he said. “I’ll wait for Pastor Jim before I fill you in on the rest, but it doesn’t sound like this is going to be just a case of random possessions. I’ve met some demons, Bobby, but Meg made them all seem like housecats in comparison.”
“Housecats’ve never liked you either, Dean,” he pointed out wryly.
“Look, I don’t know, but maybe we should call in even more backup.”
“Maybe. Unfortunately there ain’t no one better than us when it comes to demons - no one who knows them better than we do.”
Jim padded back into the room, the smallest of them all but no less terrifying from the look on his face. “Fortunately the poor boy was asleep. What the hell were you thinking, Singer? Sam is an innocent. It’s not bad enough that his family abandoned him, now he’s got hunters showing up and making him feel like he’s at fault for it? Shame on you, Robert Singer. I’d expect better of you.”
“Jim, I’m sorry. But if he’s not human we need to think about the rest of the world here!” Bobby hissed. “We need to know what he is!”
“He’s a teenager who’s coping very well with the trauma. And Sam is a who, not a ‘what,’” the priest insisted. “He’s successfully performed over fifty exorcisms and he hasn’t even turned eighteen yet. How many people have you exorcised? And how many of those people survived the process?”
“But he doesn’t want to be a hunter,” Dean pointed out, torn. “He wants to go to college.”
“Of course he does. He doesn’t want to hurt people. He only wants to help, to heal.” Jim shook his head. “I knew it was a mistake, letting hunters into my town again never mind a Winchester.”
Dean held up his hands. “Hey - I haven’t said anything about him. I just said he didn’t want to hunt.”
“You will. You’re your father’s son.” Jim closed his eyes. “Just… stay the hell away from my nephew, alright?”
“I can’t do that, Jim. If he’s got demon blood - if he’s half demon or whatever - I mean we can’t just let him run around. He’ll turn eventually.”
“So me telling you that he’s not a monster isn’t enough for you?” Jim’s eyes were mere slits in his face now. “You and I fought demons for decades, Singer. I taught you everything you know about the filthy things. And you think that I’m just… not going to know if I have one living under my roof for ten years?”
“You’re too close to him, Jim!” Bobby exploded. “He’s your kin!”
“So you have what, some kind of test to tell you? Or you’re going to go on the word of a demon over the word of someone who’s been your friend for decades?” He shook his head. “Just get out, Singer. You and your protégé.” He pointed at the door. “And as fair warning, I might not travel for hunts anymore but don’t think for a minute that I sold my guns.”
Dean grabbed Bobby’s arm and pulled him toward the exit. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. “Good to see you again, Pastor Jim,” he called, dragging Bobby toward the exit. Bobby stopped fighting him once they got to the Impala and took the shotgun position without an argument, although he glared daggers at the rectory until it was out of sight.
“Well,” Dean said brightly. “That went well.”
“Why won’t he see reason?” the older hunter asked sadly. “Why won’t he just listen?”
Dean sighed. “I don’t know, maybe because he raised that boy? I mean, you don’t even know Sam. You were pretty quick to take the demon’s word for it, you know? You ever think that maybe there was another side to things?”
Bobby glared. “Why would the demon lie?”
“Why would she tell the truth? I mean yeah. She did seem to want Sammy for something, want him to give into something, but that doesn’t mean that he’s the Son of Satan or something.” He sketched in the details of the confrontation with Meg since there was no point in waiting for Pastor Jim anymore. “There definitely didn’t seem to be any kind of brotherly feeling going on there, you get what I’m saying?”
“Demons aren’t capable of normal family relationships,” the older hunter explained. “They don’t even usually reproduce by having children. Usually when a human soul goes to Hell it gets twisted and distorted by its time in Hell until it becomes a demon. No ‘Daddy,’ no brothers, no sisters, nothing. So if this demon is calling itself Sam’s sister, it’s a pretty big deal. It would have to be a fairly powerful demon to reproduce itself like, like people do.” He sighed. “I’m actually kind of annoyed that he exorcised the one possessing Travis, now that I think about it. He could have brought it back to Jim’s place and we could have interrogated it. Think that’s why he didn’t want to bring it home?”
Dean shook his head. “Jeez, Bobby. You honestly didn’t say but three words to the kid and you’re just willing to write him off as a monster. No. I was there. He wasn’t anything but concerned for Travis - someone he’s known since they were little kids.”
Bobby slumped. “I know, boy. I know. And I… I mean, I don’t want to think he’s on the wrong side. Jim just dotes on that kid, just adores him. It’s just that I don’t want to get attached if he is… you know. I’ve had that happen once with Karen. It’s an awful feeling. And just because he’s good now doesn’t mean that he’ll be good forever. He could just as easily turn tomorrow, you know?”
“But you don’t know he’s evil. You don’t know he’s part… whatever. You don’t know he’s anything.” He smiled softly. “This is why Sammy doesn’t want to be a hunter.”
“Why are you calling him Sammy?” Bobby asked after a moment. “That’s what you used to call your brother.”
“Yeah. I guess he’d be around the same age, too. Small world, I guess. Maybe I’m compensating or something. But Bobby, we can’t condemn the kid without knowing for sure.”
“Yeah. Okay. But I want to keep an eye on him, okay? We’ll stick around and see what happens in this town.”
Go back to Part One -- Go on to Part Three
Prompt Number: S1025
Artist: expectative
Fic Title: Night of the Boy King
Author: safiyabat
Beta: elwarre
Fandom/Genre: SPN, angst, Wincest,
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean, past Sam/OCs
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 32,157 (entire fic), 5,294 (this chapter)
Warnings: Some explicit sexual content, show-level violence, demonic possession, using the "big boy words." Wincest.
Summary: John Winchester realized that something was "off" about Sammy when the boy was about seven. He abandoned him with the best demonologist he knew, Pastor Jim Murphy in Blue Earth, Minnesota. A little over ten years later, his older son Dean is ready to take on the demon that destroyed his family. All signs point to Blue Earth.
Dean didn’t need to be told twice to hightail it out of the vicinity - a stranger to town making off with a guy who had been seen beating a star football player close to death didn’t look good from anyone’s perspective, and sure maybe Pastor Jim could smooth it over and maybe he couldn’t, but Dean wasn’t about to put his trust in someone whose falling-out with his dad had caused a ten-year gap in their correspondence. That kind of attention wouldn’t do much for his ability to do his job either way. So he sneaked his way back to the Impala and hid Travis under some blankets in the back seat, making sure to obey all speed limits as he followed signs to the church.
As he drew closer to Pastor Jim’s place he started to notice some familiar sights. Funny how many things could change in ten years, he thought to himself. He was focused on the kid in the back, who was starting to show signs of waking up, but he still took note of some of the places. The town hadn’t gotten bigger, that was for certain. The same old Midwestern-style architecture still predominated, built to last and not replaced unless it had to be. The little mom-and-pop pharmacy next to the church had been replaced by a Walgreens, for example, but it had been housed in a building that had been there since the late nineteenth century and survived three floods. The Walgreens might have devoured the diner next door and a dumpy little furniture store besides, but they’d done it within the same building. The essential landscape of the town hadn’t changed. They’d opened up a thrift store next to the Walgreens, too - that was nice, convenient. Dad would be - he cut that thought off. It was convenient for him. That was enough.
He pulled into the rectory driveway, where Bobby helped him pull Travis from the back. “Sam called,” he informed. “From the ambulance.”
“Jeez, how did he manage to warn you all in front of the paramedics?” Dean marveled, looking from his mentor to the priest. Jim looked older - well, who wouldn’t? Ten years was a long time.
“Oh, he spoke openly in front of them,” Jim told him drily. “Just in Latin.” He grinned slightly. “Take him into the rectory and put him on the couch.”
“He speaks Latin well enough to just go off the cuff like that?” Bobby lifted his eyebrows. “That’s a little… unusual.”
“My nephew’s been studying Latin since he was… oh, three or four, I think. He showed an interest and there was no reason not to teach him, so why not? Now he dreams in Latin.” The pastor chuckled giving a little shake of his head.
Dean bit his lip. He didn’t want to get the kid in trouble if he didn’t have to. “Does he study at school?” He and Bobby followed their host into the small building and laid the groggy teenager out onto the couch.
Travis blinked. “Father Murphy?” he asked. “What - how did I get here?”
The priest passed him a cup of water that had already been waiting on the table. Dean suspected it contained holy water; it’s what he would have done. Sure it had looked like Sam had exorcised the demon from the poor kid, but it never hurt to be certain. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen demons fake it before. “Relax, Travis. Just… just tell me what you remember.”
“The last thing I remember clearly was being at home last night,” the boy told them. “I was just hanging around doing my homework. There was this thick, black smoke and then there’s just bits and pieces. I got into a fight with Clay - I mean…” He trailed off and glanced at Jim, blushing deeply. “I… I remember hitting him. Only I wasn’t in control. I tried to stop but something else was pushing it, moving my hand -” Tears started streaming down the boy’s face. “Do you know - is he…?”
“He was still alive when I spoke with my nephew,” the priest confirmed. “Sam couldn’t give me any idea of his condition but he was still alive at the time.” He urged the water onto the boy, holding his hand.
Travis gulped at the water. All three of the men attending on him watched closely, but nothing happened. Dean let out a slow breath, hoping neither of the others noticed.
“Son, you were possessed by a demon,” Bobby explained. Dean hadn’t ever heard him use such a gentle voice, not even when Dad had died. “I know that’s… that’s a lot to take in.”
“A demon?” Travis’ chin wavered, but after a single shuddering breath he pulled himself together. “It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever felt. It was like being hollowed out - like a jack-o-lantern. It was my body, but I couldn’t… I was being used, and it didn’t matter how hard I fought or how loud I screamed. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t. I tried.”
“How did you finally get rid of it?” Bobby wanted to know.
“You don’t think I could have exorcised it?” Dean smirked.
“Boy, you need to look at the book and half the time you still mispronounce the Latin,” his mentor huffed.
“No. The thing inside me - he thought you were kind of funny. He remembered your father. But no - it was the other one. The demon was afraid of your nephew, Father. He was afraid of Sam.” Travis swallowed more water, looking up into the priest’s eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it except to say that he was afraid.”
“I guess your nephew got the exorcism right, then,” Dean quipped.
“He usually does.” Jim smiled with quiet pride, although he didn’t look directly at anyone. “You have no idea how saddened I was that he didn’t have a priestly vocation. He’s quite the exorcist.”
“It was like the… the thing was just pulled right out of my body,” Travis reported. His face had gone pale, and he had sweated right through his clothes. “I mean, I could feel the tugging. It didn’t feel great, but I kind of figured out what was going on and shoved.”
“Smart move,” Bobby commented. “You probably helped to save your own life.”
“Well, maybe. But… I mean, what happens next, sir? I mean, the whole town saw what they thought was me try to kill my boyfriend.”
Jim sighed. “It’s awkward. I don’t know if you’ll be able to salvage things with Clay, to be honest. It depends on how much of the truth he can make himself believe. You pretty much have two options at this point. You can run. Your life will be more or less over, but these gentlemen here can help you set up a false identity. They can teach you a little bit about how to keep yourself safe from that kind of thing ever happening again.
“Or,” the priest continued, “you can stay. After a couple of hours I can call the police and tell them that you came to me and I can coach you through what to say and when to say it. Parts of your life here will change. The way that people view you here will change. But you’ll still be here. These gentlemen will still help me to help you protect yourself. And everyone will move on.”
Travis drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t suppose we can wait and see what happens with Clay?”
Jim smiled gently. “Of course. I’m sure you’re worried sick about him.” He grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the sofa and covered the teen with it. “Come on, boys. Let’s let him have some privacy.”
Dean took his cue and headed into the kitchen. This, at least, hadn’t changed. Everything was still humble, still simple. A crucifix still hung on the wall, although a report card had been tacked onto the refrigerator too. Apparently Sam Murphy got straight A’s. Of course you do, Dean thought meanly.
“Dean,” Jim told him. “Bobby told me about your father. I’m very sorry for your loss.” He indicated the chairs, Dean’s seat at the table like he was still eight years old.
“Thanks, sir. Truth be told I didn’t know if I should make myself scarce. I know you and Dad had a bit of a falling out,” Dean admitted. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“Oh, Dean. Believe me, there never was anything that I wouldn’t do for you boys. And there never will be anything I wouldn’t do for you,” the priest declared, putting a hand on his. “What happened between your father and me was between your father and me. It’s nothing to do with you and you should never have suffered for it.”
“That means a lot to me, sir.” He could feel himself tearing up. When John had died he’d felt like his world had narrowed down to one person and now it had opened up again. He didn’t have his blood kin anymore, but all of these connections that John had squandered were coming back. “I, uh… I mean, thanks.”
“I’m sorry that you have to work a demon case again so soon,” Jim told him. “I’m just glad we were able to wrap it up so quickly.”
“I’m not so sure that we did,” Bobby demurred. “It sounds to me like the demon your boy exorcised from Travis here was kind of small potatoes to be the same demon we’ve been chasing, am I right?”
Dean bit back a curse. “Those were some pretty significant demon signs,” he admitted. “And you said Sam’s an experienced exorcist. That means he gets lots of practice. Probably on guys like the one in Travis.”
Jim sat back and sighed. “Are you suggesting that there’s a larger demon here? Or trying to get here?”
“It’s possible. I showed you my research, padre,” Bobby pointed out. “And the demon that possessed John Winchester…”
Dean flinched. “Can we not?”
“Sorry, son, but I think we have to,” his mentor told him. “It’s clearly relevant. The demon that possessed him passed on some information. Said that little Sammy was the key, out of all of the Winchesters.”
Jim paled. “Sammy Winchester died more than ten years ago, Bobby. You know this. He can’t be the key to anything demonic. He’s dead. John burned him and I helped.”
“I know, Jim,” Bobby soothed, putting a hand between the priest’s tense shoulder blades. “I know. But hear me out, okay? What if whatever the demon had planned, back in the day when it killed Mary Winchester, needed the blood of a Winchester child? They do this kind of crap all the time, you know they do. Sammy’s gone, but they’ve still got Dean-o.”
“No.” Jim shook his head. “What would they need with a child of John and Mary?”
“I don’t know. Someone as stubborn as two mules put together?” Bobby glared at Dean, but with affection.
“Right here, guys.” Dean squirmed. “Come on. Let’s take this seriously, can we? I mean, you’re right. It does seem like there’s… something significant coming through and the thing that had Travis was minor. Not to Travis, of course - his life is ruined either way. But it was minor.”
The rectory phone rang, and Dean couldn’t help it. He jumped. Jim answered it, as was only right. “St. Joseph’s - oh, hi, Sam. Yes, they’re here. Fabulous, I’ll come get - oh. I see. Well, I’ll see you soon then.” He hung up the phone. “Sam is on his way home. Clay’s parents are at the hospital so they don’t need Sam to wait for him.”
“How’s he getting here?” Bobby wanted to know.
“An Officer Clark is giving him a lift.” He sighed and shook his head.
“Bit of a handful, is he?” Bobby asked sagely.
“For the most part, no. Sam is as good of a child as a man could expect - especially a man like me who never expected a child in the first place. But his family, his biological family, abandoned him and he’s never really gotten over that. I wish I could help him with that, but I suppose an old priest can’t be everything to a growing boy.” He sighed.
“You’re hardly old, Pastor Jim,” Dean offered.
“Aren’t you sweet. Anyway, the boy should be home soon. Although it sounds like you’ve already met.”
Sam Murphy pulled up to the door not ten minutes later, sitting in the front seat of a police cruiser with a very young-looking cop. The cop was laughing and Sam had a shy smile on his young face. Dean fought a surge of jealousy. It wasn’t like he had the right to be jealous - he and the kid had barely exchanged a few words, after all. And oh yeah - the kid was a kid, underage. He had no right to even look at the boy. Of course, neither did the cop, and there was no way his motivations were pure. Not with the way his eyes kept falling to the boy’s lips… Dean caught himself and shook his head. Not only had he never been into guys, but he’d never been jealous either. Maybe the demonic influence on this town was deeper than he’d thought.
He’d changed his clothes, Dean realized as Murphy strode up the walk to the rectory door. He wore a police tee shirt that was a little too small for him, emphasizing his upper chest, and some sweats that had been dug up from somewhere. Pastor Jim raised an eyebrow. “Where are your clothes, Sam?”
“Medical waste,” the exorcist admitted. “They were -” He cut himself off when he saw that Travis was awake on the couch. “The clothes weren’t salvageable. Clay is in surgery. The scans were scary, I’ll admit it. The demon did a number on him. But they were very hopeful, Travis. They have every reason to think that he’ll make a decent recovery.”
The golfer burst into tears and Sam quickly took a seat beside him, taking his hand and pulling him in so he could sob on his solid chest. “Does it help to know that you’re not the only one this has happened to, Travis?” Sam asked him after a moment.
“But why me?” the kid asked plaintively. “Is it something that I did - something I did to make myself attractive to it?”
“No. There’s no rhyme or reason to who they attack. They’ve taken priests, they’ve taken druggies. They’ve possessed little kids too young to know right from wrong. It’s usually a convenience thing.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing you did, Travis. But you can take some steps to make it less likely that they can get in again. Nothing is foolproof, okay?”
Bobby stepped forward with a charm on a string and took over the discussion, explaining about devil’s traps and exorcisms. “And you know about all of this why?” Travis asked, stunned by the amount of information flowing at him. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you do. But… why?”
“My mom was killed by a demon. My little brother too. My father dedicated both of our lives to hunting down the thing that got them, but it got him in the end,” Dean explained.
“A demon possessed my wife, Karen,” Bobby told him. “She didn’t survive.”
Pastor Jim smiled gently. “The Church sees fit to keep some of Her servants trained in handling Hell’s servants. I happen to be one of them; otherwise I suspect the diocese would have closed down St. Joseph’s years ago. Sam here has spent his entire life as an exorcist; it isn’t as if I could hide it from him.”
The teen gave his uncle a huge smile. “I wouldn’t want you to,” he said. “But look - there are others out there who fight evil. It’s not like these guys are the only ones, okay?”
“Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat, Sam,” Jim suggested. “You and Dean can get a snack, maybe get some groceries or something. Us old farts can hang out with Travis and keep the home fires burning.”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He could behave himself around Sam. He could.
Sam grinned. “Give me a minute. They didn’t exactly have spare sweats in my size down at the PD.” He glided up the stairs.
Bobby raised an eyebrow. “You been training that boy as a hunter, Jim?”
“Never hurts to be prepared, Bobby. They’ll be coming for him eventually, why shouldn’t he be ready for them when they get here? Besides, he can’t hide out here forever.” He sighed, looking impossibly old for a moment.
Sam reappeared after a moment, clad in more modest clothing. Dean wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not. “I’m ready to go if you are.”
Dean was, so Sam led the way into the town center. A few people waved or nodded at the young man as they made their way down the sidewalk; clearly the tall young man was as much a fixture around here as the Jolly Green Giant statue. “So what’s your deal, then?” Sam asked. “You just wander the country, looking for demons?”
“Among other things,” Dean told him. “I mean, I’m looking for one thing in particular but if I find something else I have to take it out, you know?”
“Anything at all?”
“Well sure. I mean, if it’s supernatural it has to go, right?” He blinked. The kid had to know that already, if Pastor Jim was training him as a hunter. “So you just live with Pastor Jim and do what - exorcise demons after school?”
Sam gave a little laugh. It might have sounded a little forced, but that could have been Dean just being paranoid. “Uh, pretty much. It’s kind of what I do, I guess. For now.”
“For now?”
“I’m heading off to Stanford in the fall.”
“Stanford? That’s… I mean, college, man. Hunters don’t go to college.”
Sam turned those dimples on him and no human could have resisted them. No human at all. “Good thing I’m not a hunter then, isn’t it?” His tone was gentle, teasing.
“’Course you are,” Dean retorted. “Look at you. Exorcising demons without batting an eye, the way you move - you could hunt like it was in your blood, Sam. Think of all the people you could save. College would be a complete waste for you.”
He huffed. “Mmm-hmm. And you think that I’d be happy never having a home, never being in the same place for more than two days at a time.”
“People need your skills, Sam.”
“And they’ll need them just as much at Stanford.” He grinned again.
Dean groaned. “Those dimples should be registered as lethal weapons, man.”
The younger boy’s grin shifted, became a little more predatory. “Oh yeah?”
“Sure.” Dean licked his lips, remembered himself. The kid was underage, the ward of someone he had to work with. “Sounds like you’re a popular tutor, anyway. I overheard a couple of the girls talking about some, uh, creative rewards you came up with to encourage someone named Nell with her Latin.”
To his credit the boy blushed a little, although he seemed at least as amused by the gossip as he was embarrassed by it. “Aw, I can’t take credit for that. It was all Nell’s plan; I just went along with it.”
“You were just being a good tutor, giving her whatever would help her out,” Dean grinned.
“Whatever brought her grades up, man. She’s plenty bright; she doesn’t deserve to lose out on scholarships or get held back from going to her choice of colleges because of a lower grade in Latin, you know?”
“And you’d have done the same if she’d been ugly. Or a dude.”
He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“And how long did you date Miss Nell after she was done with Latin?”
“Aw, little Sammy’s playmates don’t tend to stick around.” The voice was a weird combination of harsh and silken, attached to a woman. The woman hadn’t been there a moment ago and there was no alley, no shadowed storefront for her to have jumped out from. “Once they’ve gotten what they want out of our golden boy here they like their distance. Don’t they, little brother?” The woman wasn’t tall, only about five foot four, with short blonde hair and prominent cheekbones. Her eyes were the biggest clue about her identity; they gleamed, inky and black, in her heart-shaped face.
Sam’s entire demeanor changed. “Meg,” he snarled, thrusting Dean behind him with a strength he didn’t look like he should have. “We sent you back to the Pit months ago.”
She snickered. “That’s the thing, Sammy-boy. When you send us to Hell we just climb back out, and then we’re pissed. Plus, we’ve usually learned some fun new tricks while we’re at it.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw set. “You’re not the only one who’s learned some new tricks, Meg.”
“Mmm. But are you going to use them in front of pretty boy here? Out here in the open? I mean, you’ve got something to lose here. You still think you get to live here, in this town, Mr. All-American Boy. I mean really, Sam.” She snorted and flipped her hand at the storefronts around her. The windows exploded into thousands of little knives. Dean brought his arm up to protect his eyes. “Don’t you get tired of faking it?”
“I’m not faking anything.” None of the shards had even come close to Sam. It seemed improbable, especially given the perfect circle of glass-free space around both him and Dean, but here they were. “But I’m not going to let you hurt these people. Any of them.”
She smiled. The host was pretty but that smile was probably the single nastiest thing that Dean had ever seen on a human face, stolen or not. “Especially not pretty boy here,” she surmised. Dean felt dirty just hearing that come out of her mouth. “I see how it is. Dad’s not going to wait forever, Sammy.”
“Not my father,” the boy gritted out, and began the words to the exorcism.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she sneered, and then she was gone again.
“Run,” Sam told Dean.
Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Sam’s hand, though, and dragged him along behind him.
Back at the rectory Jim and Bobby were very interested to hear about the encounter, although for very different reasons. Jim looked somber, even a bit worried. Bobby was concerned. “Are you telling me that your father is a demon, boy?” he asked Sam, standing up and moving closer to him.
“His father is not a demon,” the priest injected with a scowl, coming to stand between Bobby and Sam. “He’s a piss-poor excuse for a father, but he’s not a demon. It’s something that the other side’s been trying to tell him for a while now.”
“And why would they be saying that, now?” Dean’s mentor wanted to know. His eyes narrowed over his beard, giving him an almost inquisitorial appearance. “Why would that even pop into their black-eyed little heads if there weren’t a grain of truth to it?”
“Do you have any idea how many of them he’s sent back to Hell?” The priest’s face was ablaze with indignation. “They’re trying to rattle him, Bobby. And they’re trying to get hunters to view him with suspicion, which I’d say is working.”
“She called him ‘little brother,’” Dean sighed. “That implies a lot more than just the usual demon bitch screwing around with a guy, you know?”
Sam turned those eyes on him, stunning and vulnerable and impossible to deny. Dean had to look away as the teen said, “She’s not my goddamn sister - sorry, Uncle Jim. She’s not my sister. I never had a sister. Never, even before.”
“So you remember your family,” Bobby prodded, arms crossed over his chest.
“Sure I do. Not a lot. Bits and pieces. And I know they weren’t demons.” His mouth twisted on the word. “They were humans. Normal humans. I had a father and a brother.”
“Where are they now?” Bobby pressed.
“Who knows? Who cares? They dumped me in a church and never looked back.” Sam’s eyes blazed. “But I never had a sister. If you want to kill me on some demon’s word - if you think the word of a creature that steals humans’ bodies from them is worth more than mine, someone who’s been exorcising demons since before he needed to shave - then go ahead and do it. Just get it the hell over with and stop your posturing.”
Bobby blinked. “No one’s talking about killing you, Sam.”
“Bullshit.” Sam shouldered his way past the older men and headed up to his room.
The remaining men exchanged glances. “I really hope Travis didn’t hear any of that,” Jim said with a glower before leaving the kitchen.
Bobby glanced at Dean. “It sounds like this is getting big, boy.”
“That ain’t the half of it,” he said. “I’ll wait for Pastor Jim before I fill you in on the rest, but it doesn’t sound like this is going to be just a case of random possessions. I’ve met some demons, Bobby, but Meg made them all seem like housecats in comparison.”
“Housecats’ve never liked you either, Dean,” he pointed out wryly.
“Look, I don’t know, but maybe we should call in even more backup.”
“Maybe. Unfortunately there ain’t no one better than us when it comes to demons - no one who knows them better than we do.”
Jim padded back into the room, the smallest of them all but no less terrifying from the look on his face. “Fortunately the poor boy was asleep. What the hell were you thinking, Singer? Sam is an innocent. It’s not bad enough that his family abandoned him, now he’s got hunters showing up and making him feel like he’s at fault for it? Shame on you, Robert Singer. I’d expect better of you.”
“Jim, I’m sorry. But if he’s not human we need to think about the rest of the world here!” Bobby hissed. “We need to know what he is!”
“He’s a teenager who’s coping very well with the trauma. And Sam is a who, not a ‘what,’” the priest insisted. “He’s successfully performed over fifty exorcisms and he hasn’t even turned eighteen yet. How many people have you exorcised? And how many of those people survived the process?”
“But he doesn’t want to be a hunter,” Dean pointed out, torn. “He wants to go to college.”
“Of course he does. He doesn’t want to hurt people. He only wants to help, to heal.” Jim shook his head. “I knew it was a mistake, letting hunters into my town again never mind a Winchester.”
Dean held up his hands. “Hey - I haven’t said anything about him. I just said he didn’t want to hunt.”
“You will. You’re your father’s son.” Jim closed his eyes. “Just… stay the hell away from my nephew, alright?”
“I can’t do that, Jim. If he’s got demon blood - if he’s half demon or whatever - I mean we can’t just let him run around. He’ll turn eventually.”
“So me telling you that he’s not a monster isn’t enough for you?” Jim’s eyes were mere slits in his face now. “You and I fought demons for decades, Singer. I taught you everything you know about the filthy things. And you think that I’m just… not going to know if I have one living under my roof for ten years?”
“You’re too close to him, Jim!” Bobby exploded. “He’s your kin!”
“So you have what, some kind of test to tell you? Or you’re going to go on the word of a demon over the word of someone who’s been your friend for decades?” He shook his head. “Just get out, Singer. You and your protégé.” He pointed at the door. “And as fair warning, I might not travel for hunts anymore but don’t think for a minute that I sold my guns.”
Dean grabbed Bobby’s arm and pulled him toward the exit. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. “Good to see you again, Pastor Jim,” he called, dragging Bobby toward the exit. Bobby stopped fighting him once they got to the Impala and took the shotgun position without an argument, although he glared daggers at the rectory until it was out of sight.
“Well,” Dean said brightly. “That went well.”
“Why won’t he see reason?” the older hunter asked sadly. “Why won’t he just listen?”
Dean sighed. “I don’t know, maybe because he raised that boy? I mean, you don’t even know Sam. You were pretty quick to take the demon’s word for it, you know? You ever think that maybe there was another side to things?”
Bobby glared. “Why would the demon lie?”
“Why would she tell the truth? I mean yeah. She did seem to want Sammy for something, want him to give into something, but that doesn’t mean that he’s the Son of Satan or something.” He sketched in the details of the confrontation with Meg since there was no point in waiting for Pastor Jim anymore. “There definitely didn’t seem to be any kind of brotherly feeling going on there, you get what I’m saying?”
“Demons aren’t capable of normal family relationships,” the older hunter explained. “They don’t even usually reproduce by having children. Usually when a human soul goes to Hell it gets twisted and distorted by its time in Hell until it becomes a demon. No ‘Daddy,’ no brothers, no sisters, nothing. So if this demon is calling itself Sam’s sister, it’s a pretty big deal. It would have to be a fairly powerful demon to reproduce itself like, like people do.” He sighed. “I’m actually kind of annoyed that he exorcised the one possessing Travis, now that I think about it. He could have brought it back to Jim’s place and we could have interrogated it. Think that’s why he didn’t want to bring it home?”
Dean shook his head. “Jeez, Bobby. You honestly didn’t say but three words to the kid and you’re just willing to write him off as a monster. No. I was there. He wasn’t anything but concerned for Travis - someone he’s known since they were little kids.”
Bobby slumped. “I know, boy. I know. And I… I mean, I don’t want to think he’s on the wrong side. Jim just dotes on that kid, just adores him. It’s just that I don’t want to get attached if he is… you know. I’ve had that happen once with Karen. It’s an awful feeling. And just because he’s good now doesn’t mean that he’ll be good forever. He could just as easily turn tomorrow, you know?”
“But you don’t know he’s evil. You don’t know he’s part… whatever. You don’t know he’s anything.” He smiled softly. “This is why Sammy doesn’t want to be a hunter.”
“Why are you calling him Sammy?” Bobby asked after a moment. “That’s what you used to call your brother.”
“Yeah. I guess he’d be around the same age, too. Small world, I guess. Maybe I’m compensating or something. But Bobby, we can’t condemn the kid without knowing for sure.”
“Yeah. Okay. But I want to keep an eye on him, okay? We’ll stick around and see what happens in this town.”
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