Reality Is Stranger Than Illusion
Title: Reality Is Stranger Than Illusion
Characters/Pairings: Sam, John Winchester, wee-Dean, wee-Sam, OFC
Rating: R (because there's swearing)
Word Count: 686
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural and that's a good thing because I create stuff like this.
Summary: Another prompt from comment_fic . I can't seem to resist even when I have other things I should be writing. This wonderful prompt is from kruemmelmonster : "SPN, Sam+John, after the apocalypse Sam gets rescued from the pit, but the angel doing the rescuing miscalculated and Sam ended up back in 1989"
Sam would like to think he’s pretty good at rolling with the punches, always able to recover quickly from the unexpected. His whole life has been about the unexpected really. But he’s got to sit down right god-damned now before he falls down. Because there is no way this is happening.
One minute he’s in the deepest pit of hell with Lucifer and the next he’s standing across a street from a rundown motel looking at the Impala. The change is so quick and jarring he doubts what he sees as real and wonders if this is some new torture. Sam doesn’t care though; he’s willing to go with the illusion because that car means Dean. His throat tightens with the flood of memories that he’s kept close and boxed away from those who would have sullied it with their touch. He finds himself staggering across the road toward the Impala without any real thought other than 'Dean' and 'home.' He touches her with reverent hands and a sob escapes his throat as he lays his head on the roof.
“Hey buddy, mind having your meltdown somewhere not on my car?” The snark is right but the voice is off - deeper, rougher. It definitely isn’t Dean but… dad. Dad? Sam doesn’t think he says that out loud but the look on John Winchester’s face says otherwise. It seems like only seconds from when his father is standing in front of him to when John is on the ground unconscious. The fight itself is over as soon as it began. The knife that was only moments ago in his father’s hand is now securely held in Sam’s. There are two kids standing a few feet away that can only be Dean and himself. Their eyes are big as saucers and Dean is standing in front his younger self in all his protective glory.
And this is why he needs to sit down right now because this just isn’t right. He figures he’s allowed a certain amount of freak-out considering. Yet of all the things that should be bothering him right now, the thought that keeps running through his head is that he just knocked John fucking Winchester on his ass and out cold without even breaking a sweat. Things are pretty jumbled in his head right now but he’s pretty sure that is all kinds of wrong.
“Oh dear! Oh my! This is all wrong.” The thought ‘you got that right sister,’ (which sounds suspiciously like Dean) runs through Sam’s head as he slowly looks over to see who is speaking to him now. A slight woman stands there with long frizzy hair and big round glasses that almost engulf her face wearing an outfit that seems right out of a sock hop from the 50s including poodle skirt and bobby socks. In the blink of an eye, she is standing by Dean and his younger self with a finger on each forehead. They disappear leaving Sam and what he assumes is an angel alone in the parking lot. Even John is gone.
Throughout all this, she rambles, “Of all the silly mistakes. I can’t even imagine how I got you here. I mean time travel from hell shouldn’t even be possible. Castiel made it look so easy when he grabbed your brother. And now look at this mess. And with all the grace I need to use just to clean this up, there’s no way I’m going to be able to hide it. Not that I should, of course, but one never wants to admit mistakes like this. It’s just so embarrassing.”
Sam’s thoughts seem to spin and his vision swims a tad so that he can only blink at her as she babbles away. She finally stops and steps in front of him. “Well, what’s done is done, I guess. You ready to fly this coop? Let’s get you back to when you belong.”
The last thing Sam thinks as her fingers brush his forehead is that there is no way he’s still in hell. No self-respecting demon would ever think up anything this ridiculous.
Characters/Pairings: Sam, John Winchester, wee-Dean, wee-Sam, OFC
Rating: R (because there's swearing)
Word Count: 686
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural and that's a good thing because I create stuff like this.
Summary: Another prompt from comment_fic . I can't seem to resist even when I have other things I should be writing. This wonderful prompt is from kruemmelmonster : "SPN, Sam+John, after the apocalypse Sam gets rescued from the pit, but the angel doing the rescuing miscalculated and Sam ended up back in 1989"
Sam would like to think he’s pretty good at rolling with the punches, always able to recover quickly from the unexpected. His whole life has been about the unexpected really. But he’s got to sit down right god-damned now before he falls down. Because there is no way this is happening.
One minute he’s in the deepest pit of hell with Lucifer and the next he’s standing across a street from a rundown motel looking at the Impala. The change is so quick and jarring he doubts what he sees as real and wonders if this is some new torture. Sam doesn’t care though; he’s willing to go with the illusion because that car means Dean. His throat tightens with the flood of memories that he’s kept close and boxed away from those who would have sullied it with their touch. He finds himself staggering across the road toward the Impala without any real thought other than 'Dean' and 'home.' He touches her with reverent hands and a sob escapes his throat as he lays his head on the roof.
“Hey buddy, mind having your meltdown somewhere not on my car?” The snark is right but the voice is off - deeper, rougher. It definitely isn’t Dean but… dad. Dad? Sam doesn’t think he says that out loud but the look on John Winchester’s face says otherwise. It seems like only seconds from when his father is standing in front of him to when John is on the ground unconscious. The fight itself is over as soon as it began. The knife that was only moments ago in his father’s hand is now securely held in Sam’s. There are two kids standing a few feet away that can only be Dean and himself. Their eyes are big as saucers and Dean is standing in front his younger self in all his protective glory.
And this is why he needs to sit down right now because this just isn’t right. He figures he’s allowed a certain amount of freak-out considering. Yet of all the things that should be bothering him right now, the thought that keeps running through his head is that he just knocked John fucking Winchester on his ass and out cold without even breaking a sweat. Things are pretty jumbled in his head right now but he’s pretty sure that is all kinds of wrong.
“Oh dear! Oh my! This is all wrong.” The thought ‘you got that right sister,’ (which sounds suspiciously like Dean) runs through Sam’s head as he slowly looks over to see who is speaking to him now. A slight woman stands there with long frizzy hair and big round glasses that almost engulf her face wearing an outfit that seems right out of a sock hop from the 50s including poodle skirt and bobby socks. In the blink of an eye, she is standing by Dean and his younger self with a finger on each forehead. They disappear leaving Sam and what he assumes is an angel alone in the parking lot. Even John is gone.
Throughout all this, she rambles, “Of all the silly mistakes. I can’t even imagine how I got you here. I mean time travel from hell shouldn’t even be possible. Castiel made it look so easy when he grabbed your brother. And now look at this mess. And with all the grace I need to use just to clean this up, there’s no way I’m going to be able to hide it. Not that I should, of course, but one never wants to admit mistakes like this. It’s just so embarrassing.”
Sam’s thoughts seem to spin and his vision swims a tad so that he can only blink at her as she babbles away. She finally stops and steps in front of him. “Well, what’s done is done, I guess. You ready to fly this coop? Let’s get you back to when you belong.”
The last thing Sam thinks as her fingers brush his forehead is that there is no way he’s still in hell. No self-respecting demon would ever think up anything this ridiculous.