Ficlet: "The Devils You Know" (Sam-centric)
Because rejeneration mentioned it and I couldn't get it out of my head. So for Jen and others who enabled me: fic!
Sam's met Edward twice.
Once during the months he can't forget, when the Impala rode rough under his handling, the steering wheel never felt right, and the passenger seat that should have been his was empty.
Once afterwards, when he walked -- with Dean -- to get some ice from a barely-working machine at the "Restin' Reelax" motel not far outside Santa Fe.
He recognizes Edward right away, a sick lurch in his stomach reminiscent of the plunge down a rollercoaster. The hollow plummet from long ago haunts the occasional nightmare, but he recalls Edward's face with a clarity that's sharper by far.
Probably because he saw himself in Edward, empty, dead eyes in the face of a man whose body was still alive, but whose soul had died a long time ago. Or was discarded. (Like his.)
It didn't scare him, at the time. It still doesn't. It makes him want to reach for the gun he always carries now and see who's the quicker, better shot. Because a man like Edward will be up for it.
This is how it happens: he feels the tingle on the side of his face first, while he's pretending to idly watch Dean kick the ice machine to get it to put out, petty jibes falling meaninglessly off his tongue. And he's not dumb enough to turn around and see who's there.
He looks at Edward on the slant. Sees and recognizes the ice-blue eyes devoid of anything human, though he's not anything else in body.
Not technically.
Beside him, Dean questions the ice machine's legitimacy and leaves dents in the shape of his boot on the rusty sides.
Inside him, Sam's heart is far colder than the ice Dean wants for his beer, because.
Because he remembers Edward. And what he understood about the man in the space of one empty, momentary look. A dangerous man.
Edward nods to him, so slightly it's almost no movement at all, but Sam comprehends this clearly:
It can't be, because the Trickster turned back time and those months don't exist anymore for anyone but him, anyone, but.
They do for Edward. Because it seems Edward knows what he shouldn't, what he couldn't. And he's found Sam here because he knew how to hunt him, and found him.
He remembers Sam.
And he knows that the world's wronger than ever now that it's been righted for the sake of a brother's love.
Edward's here to fix that.
So maybe they'll see who's quicker on the draw, after all.
One… Sam counts.
Two…
Three…
Go.
Sam's met Edward twice.
Once during the months he can't forget, when the Impala rode rough under his handling, the steering wheel never felt right, and the passenger seat that should have been his was empty.
Once afterwards, when he walked -- with Dean -- to get some ice from a barely-working machine at the "Restin' Reelax" motel not far outside Santa Fe.
He recognizes Edward right away, a sick lurch in his stomach reminiscent of the plunge down a rollercoaster. The hollow plummet from long ago haunts the occasional nightmare, but he recalls Edward's face with a clarity that's sharper by far.
Probably because he saw himself in Edward, empty, dead eyes in the face of a man whose body was still alive, but whose soul had died a long time ago. Or was discarded. (Like his.)
It didn't scare him, at the time. It still doesn't. It makes him want to reach for the gun he always carries now and see who's the quicker, better shot. Because a man like Edward will be up for it.
This is how it happens: he feels the tingle on the side of his face first, while he's pretending to idly watch Dean kick the ice machine to get it to put out, petty jibes falling meaninglessly off his tongue. And he's not dumb enough to turn around and see who's there.
He looks at Edward on the slant. Sees and recognizes the ice-blue eyes devoid of anything human, though he's not anything else in body.
Not technically.
Beside him, Dean questions the ice machine's legitimacy and leaves dents in the shape of his boot on the rusty sides.
Inside him, Sam's heart is far colder than the ice Dean wants for his beer, because.
Because he remembers Edward. And what he understood about the man in the space of one empty, momentary look. A dangerous man.
Edward nods to him, so slightly it's almost no movement at all, but Sam comprehends this clearly:
It can't be, because the Trickster turned back time and those months don't exist anymore for anyone but him, anyone, but.
They do for Edward. Because it seems Edward knows what he shouldn't, what he couldn't. And he's found Sam here because he knew how to hunt him, and found him.
He remembers Sam.
And he knows that the world's wronger than ever now that it's been righted for the sake of a brother's love.
Edward's here to fix that.
So maybe they'll see who's quicker on the draw, after all.
One… Sam counts.
Two…
Three…
Go.