Fic: In the Future, Series 2 - Home 10/10
Title: Where is home? 10/10
Author: Me
Spoilers: References Bloodlust
Disclaimer: Fan fic, nothing owned
Word count: 2342
Notes: This is het, R, Sam/Lenore. Future fic. Unbeta'd. Continues from the previous "In the Future" series.
Herein lies the ending of the second series. I thought part ten of the first series was the end but it wasn’t so I’ll just say...I’m done for now. Thank you to the people who read and commented, especially ”moosesal” who has been my devoted cheerleader. XOXO I am very proud of these two series.
Enjoy.
Bilka is like an undead sensei, instructing Sam in the ways of control and various other mystical sounding things which remind him that even vampires aren’t immune to New Age quackery. He misses Lenore in all ways angry and sad and spends all day clutching his pillow like a lonely child. Bilka doesn’t comment on this but he frequently recommends Sam “clear his mind of distractions”.
Whatever. Sam wants to stop playing Karate Kid and get back to the motel room.
He’d like to pretend he’s stronger than this but the truth is he’s spent very little time in his life on his own. Growing up it was Dad and Dean, then it was Jess then it was Dean again, Dean who was mother/father/brother/friend for so long he thought he wouldn’t survive without him. Then he bumped into Lenore and never, never would he imagine it would turn into this thing. This thing where he felt he was missing a limb when she wasn’t around.
In some ways it was like Dean and Jess had become melded into one angry undead woman...something that the former would find hilarious and the latter might find a little dirty.
He loved her. And he knew she hated that as much as she needed it.
Sam didn’t see the point in hating what kept you going. He’d lived too long trying to deny he needed someone.
After three days Sam has gotten enough from Bilka’s intoning to control his hunger. There are bits of logic in there, clues on how to sublimate his desire through sheer will and remain more human than blood thirsty animal. Useful, that.
By day four he felt fully in control of his urges. He wanted to believe it wasn’t this easy but...maybe Bilka was right. Separating briefly from Lenore gave him the headspace to do this, to make it right. It was this damn easy? Jesus.
After Bilka went off and left him on his own, Sam had snacked on lamb’s blood and eaten a box of Twinkies that Bilka had forgotten were on the top of his bookcase. The sugar made Sam twitchy. He wanted to call the motel, wanted to hear Lenore snarl at him and pretend she wasn’t climbing the walls without him.
He wanted to go back and tie her to the bed and tease her into admitting she missed him. The thought made him smile.
Only three more days.
***
Only three more days and Lenore was speeding the Impala towards a California cemetery. It’s clearly a fit of morbid insanity, lack of sleep and blood and sex that’s sent her into this ridiculous tailspin.
She read it all; Sam’s journal, his father’s. Dean’s which she didn’t realize was tucked in there. She’s stared at all the pictures until she seems them whenever she closes her eyes. She thought to run and wishes she could but that opening in the veil has passed.
The cemetery is old, overgrown, flanked by condos and buildings like hulking bodyguards. Lenore feels exposed in the shadows, following the print out of the map towards Jessica’s grave.
Graves aren’t really her thing. Her lover’s ex-lover’s grave seems steeped in drama beyond her. She’d like to give a rational reason for why she’s standing, staring at faded stone, pondering a woman who’s been dead longer than she was alive.
The only thing she has is “jealous”.
***
“Can I take this book?” Sam asks, already pocketing the Latin text and moving on to the next shelf. Bilka has bored of him - and the feeling is entirely mutual - and Sam is done waiting to leave. “I should maybe take a trial run you know? Hang out around some people, make sure I don’t eat them...” He takes another tiny leather missive and tucks it into his pocket.
“Quick study as you are, we had an agreement.” Bilka calls from the kitchen and Sam rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, I remember that. But see, I’ve always been a good student and I feel like I’m ready to graduate. Like - give me a diploma and let me get back...”
“To her.” Bilka steps into the doorway, his head cocked to one side. “You’re really quite bonded. Almost...obsessive.”
“Wow, an unhealthy undead relationship...tell you what, you let me leave, I promise we’ll get therapy.”
“How do you know she’s waiting for you?” The little man drops that stone in the middle of Sam’s lake without changing the bemused tone of his voice.
“She promised.”
“You didn’t believe her that first night.”
“I occasionally have abandonment issues. Actually - I’m pretty fucked up in general but remarkably cheerful.” Sam jams his hands into his pockets full of pilfered books. He doesn’t like this conversation.
“What are you going to do if she’s not there?”
“Wow, you’re a barrel of laughs.” Sam thinks Dean would have cursed the guy off and left already and he translates the painful twitch in his midsection into an expression of “Fuck You” in his best brotherly impersonation. “I think I’ll go find out,” he says, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.
It’s dark, he can walk, he can find his way back...
“You wanted a test, looks like you have one.” Bilka sounds bored. “Good luck to you Sam Winchester. You’re going to need it.”
“You need better lines,” Sam mutters, forcing his hand on the knob and opening the door.
He steps into the dark dry San Francisco night and starts walking.
***
Lenore lays on Jessica’s grave, watching the moon. She can hear the skittering animals in the brush as hunger taps against her throat. She should eat, she should...go back to the motel. In three days Sam will return and she’ll face whether or not they can continue on in this fucked up drama of a relationship or if everything was for nothing.
She’s too old to be this maudlin, too dead to be this lame. She’s embarrassed to be here, embarrassed to be so undone at the thought of losing Sam. Losing her family, losing her life didn’t mess her up this bad.
“What is about him?” she asks Jessica’s dust.
Jessica doesn’t answer.
***
There’s a hitchhiker sauntering up ahead; Sam’s long strides have caught up him with, the scent a surprise that jerks his head up - he’s been walking angrily for so long he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone.
So then there’s a man. He smells like alcohol and drugs, his heart beating super fast, his blood pumping so loudly that Sam can hear it. He bites his lip and nearly trips as the pain slams into him. He didn’t realize his vampire teeth had descended. He didn’t realize he was following every beat of the man’s heart and moving quicker.
A haze clouds him for too many minutes. The man has stopped. Turned around. Fear trips his pulse as he realizes someone is approaching.
Sam wrenches his body into the woods, off the road. Hitting into a tree with angry hands until the bark is flayed loose and Sam’s back to being...Sam. Or at least a reasonable facsimile.
He waits a long time before he struggles back up to the road and continues walking. The hitchhiker is gone, saved by a passing car. And so Sam is saved from having to test himself again.
For now, he’s passed.
***
It gets really late (or early, as the case may be) and Lenore realizes she’s arrived at another juncture where a choice is necessary. The sun would be up soon; she could lie here and let the rays break her down into screaming dust. It would hurt but then it would be over. That sounded loads easier than spending every day with someone who held her happiness in his big clumsy hands.
Love had made her fatalistic.
Not even being a VAMPIRE had accomplished that.
***
Sam arrives at the motel with the sun poised on the horizon. He quickens his pace, reaching the door with a mixture of joy and relief and a euphoric hit of what he suspects cocaine might feel like. He knocks, waits.
Then realizes the Impala is not in the parking lot.
***
The damp earth seeps up through Lenore’s tee shirt and jeans. She can smell the daylight coming. She tries to imagine if it smells like death today.
She imagines Sam coming back to the motel room and finding her gone.
She imagines Sam coming back to the motel room, finding her gone and realizing she’s gone forever.
Lenore winces, fingers digging into the grass beneath her.
He’d miss her. And the Impala. She has his backpack. He’d be well and truly alone. Might as well go back and throw a stake through his heart.
Killing herself might be easy but killing him...
***
He breaks down the door and stumbles into the room, a growling rage bursting out of his chest. He knows. It’s empty - everything is gone. His backpack, Lenore’s bag, the laptop.
That doesn’t stop him from tearing into everything left standing; he slips the mattress and digs through the dirty towels in the bathroom. Everything is tumbling through his head like a hurricane, battering against his ears. Sam sees red until he runs out of steam - somewhere in the middle of the bedroom, lying against the foul rug.
Maybe this is a test, a small voice whispers. Bilka knew you’d leave early. He told Lenore to be out of there, see how you’d act. That’s it, it’s a test.
Or maybe she just got tired of you.
He lays there for a long time, until he can smell the full sunlight lurking through the drapes. Sam crawls into the windowless bathroom and shuts the door, sprawled on the tiny tile floor.
***
Lenore and poetic suicide have a break in their agreement; she ends up safely in the Impala and under a heavy tarp in the backseat as the sun rises, pissy and cursing and kicking her feet in a tantrum of epic proportions.
Thank God no one saw this...this incredibly failure of sanity on her part. She’s horrified. She’s embarrassed. She wants to get back to the motel and put everything back, get herself ready for Sam’s return. Because really - if after all this drama he didn’t come back manageable she was going to be really fucking pissed.
***
Sam dreams of everyone he’s burned or buried then specifically the ones of them he’s loved.
He dreams of them as piles of ashes surrounding him like land mines.
***
Sundown can’t come fast enough. Lenore clamors over the seat to the front and fires up the engine. She’s starving - a good sign. She’s pissed off. Also an excellent sign.
This is good.
She can do this.
The drive back to San Francisco includes two stops - one for gas (stolen), one for food (also stolen) - and as she cruises through the city limits, Lenore’s head feels better than it has for a long time. It’s tempting to drive up to Bilka’s and see Sam but she behaves and pulls into the motel’s parking lot.
And sees the door to their room cracked open, the frame busted.
Shit.
Lenore jumps out of the car and runs to the door, pausing for a moment to sniff. Takes another moment to recognize Sam and she pushes in with a relieved sigh.
***
Sam smells her before he registers anything else. He’s moving through the bathroom door and into the main area lightning and emotion and little else. Lizard brain on alert, human brain still in a fog of dreams. He tackles her around the midsection, slamming them both into the small table and chair in the corner.
He hears her shout and the splintering of wood and his own angry growls.
When her left hook connects with his jaw, he lets go long enough for her to roll them over; she’s nothing weight wise compared to him, nothing he can’t smack against the wall and crush like a bug. Sam lifts his hands, blind-eyed grabbing for her neck.
Right hook this time. He tastes blood and moans. Then he tastes her tongue.
***
She wasn’t prepared for the attack but there was still something to be chalked up to age and skill; Lenore manages to get the upper hand, fighting for her existence like she hadn’t cared to for awhile.
Panic flares at her heart. It didn’t help, he’s wild. She hits him again, feels his canines crack open her skin. The warm stench of blood fills the room and his moans, the thrust of his hips - everything shifts.
“Sam, Sam,” she mutters, pinning his arms over his head and God, he lets her and she could cry with relief. “Sam stop it.”
“You...left,” he hurls out and she presses her mouth down over his to stop him from saying anything else. She can’t bear it.
No, I didn’t except I did but I’m back, her kiss says, rubbing her body frantically against him. Lenore feels his control settling in even as he rocks his hips up.
He’s pissed and he wants to fuck her.
Victory.
***
When she breaks the kiss, Sam finally is clear-headed enough to look at Lenore’s face. She’s happy and broken at once and he shakes his head as if there’s sense to be made of anything. Of them.
“You...left....” he murmurs, licking the blood from his lips and straining against her hands.
“I came back. Clearly.” Lenore rocks her hips, grinding. Digging her fingers into his flesh.
“Clearly. I’m...I’m better.”
“I know.” The joy in her voice reaches him like nothing else could.
Sam wants to explain that he loves her as much as he’s ever loved anyone. Maybe more. Maybe it’s easier to be Sam with her - dark Sam and light Sam and the one who’s never felt “home” anywhere but with her.
But then he thinks, looking into her eyes, he doesn’t have to. She knows.
Author: Me
Spoilers: References Bloodlust
Disclaimer: Fan fic, nothing owned
Word count: 2342
Notes: This is het, R, Sam/Lenore. Future fic. Unbeta'd. Continues from the previous "In the Future" series.
Herein lies the ending of the second series. I thought part ten of the first series was the end but it wasn’t so I’ll just say...I’m done for now. Thank you to the people who read and commented, especially ”moosesal” who has been my devoted cheerleader. XOXO I am very proud of these two series.
Enjoy.
Bilka is like an undead sensei, instructing Sam in the ways of control and various other mystical sounding things which remind him that even vampires aren’t immune to New Age quackery. He misses Lenore in all ways angry and sad and spends all day clutching his pillow like a lonely child. Bilka doesn’t comment on this but he frequently recommends Sam “clear his mind of distractions”.
Whatever. Sam wants to stop playing Karate Kid and get back to the motel room.
He’d like to pretend he’s stronger than this but the truth is he’s spent very little time in his life on his own. Growing up it was Dad and Dean, then it was Jess then it was Dean again, Dean who was mother/father/brother/friend for so long he thought he wouldn’t survive without him. Then he bumped into Lenore and never, never would he imagine it would turn into this thing. This thing where he felt he was missing a limb when she wasn’t around.
In some ways it was like Dean and Jess had become melded into one angry undead woman...something that the former would find hilarious and the latter might find a little dirty.
He loved her. And he knew she hated that as much as she needed it.
Sam didn’t see the point in hating what kept you going. He’d lived too long trying to deny he needed someone.
After three days Sam has gotten enough from Bilka’s intoning to control his hunger. There are bits of logic in there, clues on how to sublimate his desire through sheer will and remain more human than blood thirsty animal. Useful, that.
By day four he felt fully in control of his urges. He wanted to believe it wasn’t this easy but...maybe Bilka was right. Separating briefly from Lenore gave him the headspace to do this, to make it right. It was this damn easy? Jesus.
After Bilka went off and left him on his own, Sam had snacked on lamb’s blood and eaten a box of Twinkies that Bilka had forgotten were on the top of his bookcase. The sugar made Sam twitchy. He wanted to call the motel, wanted to hear Lenore snarl at him and pretend she wasn’t climbing the walls without him.
He wanted to go back and tie her to the bed and tease her into admitting she missed him. The thought made him smile.
Only three more days.
***
Only three more days and Lenore was speeding the Impala towards a California cemetery. It’s clearly a fit of morbid insanity, lack of sleep and blood and sex that’s sent her into this ridiculous tailspin.
She read it all; Sam’s journal, his father’s. Dean’s which she didn’t realize was tucked in there. She’s stared at all the pictures until she seems them whenever she closes her eyes. She thought to run and wishes she could but that opening in the veil has passed.
The cemetery is old, overgrown, flanked by condos and buildings like hulking bodyguards. Lenore feels exposed in the shadows, following the print out of the map towards Jessica’s grave.
Graves aren’t really her thing. Her lover’s ex-lover’s grave seems steeped in drama beyond her. She’d like to give a rational reason for why she’s standing, staring at faded stone, pondering a woman who’s been dead longer than she was alive.
The only thing she has is “jealous”.
***
“Can I take this book?” Sam asks, already pocketing the Latin text and moving on to the next shelf. Bilka has bored of him - and the feeling is entirely mutual - and Sam is done waiting to leave. “I should maybe take a trial run you know? Hang out around some people, make sure I don’t eat them...” He takes another tiny leather missive and tucks it into his pocket.
“Quick study as you are, we had an agreement.” Bilka calls from the kitchen and Sam rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, I remember that. But see, I’ve always been a good student and I feel like I’m ready to graduate. Like - give me a diploma and let me get back...”
“To her.” Bilka steps into the doorway, his head cocked to one side. “You’re really quite bonded. Almost...obsessive.”
“Wow, an unhealthy undead relationship...tell you what, you let me leave, I promise we’ll get therapy.”
“How do you know she’s waiting for you?” The little man drops that stone in the middle of Sam’s lake without changing the bemused tone of his voice.
“She promised.”
“You didn’t believe her that first night.”
“I occasionally have abandonment issues. Actually - I’m pretty fucked up in general but remarkably cheerful.” Sam jams his hands into his pockets full of pilfered books. He doesn’t like this conversation.
“What are you going to do if she’s not there?”
“Wow, you’re a barrel of laughs.” Sam thinks Dean would have cursed the guy off and left already and he translates the painful twitch in his midsection into an expression of “Fuck You” in his best brotherly impersonation. “I think I’ll go find out,” he says, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.
It’s dark, he can walk, he can find his way back...
“You wanted a test, looks like you have one.” Bilka sounds bored. “Good luck to you Sam Winchester. You’re going to need it.”
“You need better lines,” Sam mutters, forcing his hand on the knob and opening the door.
He steps into the dark dry San Francisco night and starts walking.
***
Lenore lays on Jessica’s grave, watching the moon. She can hear the skittering animals in the brush as hunger taps against her throat. She should eat, she should...go back to the motel. In three days Sam will return and she’ll face whether or not they can continue on in this fucked up drama of a relationship or if everything was for nothing.
She’s too old to be this maudlin, too dead to be this lame. She’s embarrassed to be here, embarrassed to be so undone at the thought of losing Sam. Losing her family, losing her life didn’t mess her up this bad.
“What is about him?” she asks Jessica’s dust.
Jessica doesn’t answer.
***
There’s a hitchhiker sauntering up ahead; Sam’s long strides have caught up him with, the scent a surprise that jerks his head up - he’s been walking angrily for so long he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone.
So then there’s a man. He smells like alcohol and drugs, his heart beating super fast, his blood pumping so loudly that Sam can hear it. He bites his lip and nearly trips as the pain slams into him. He didn’t realize his vampire teeth had descended. He didn’t realize he was following every beat of the man’s heart and moving quicker.
A haze clouds him for too many minutes. The man has stopped. Turned around. Fear trips his pulse as he realizes someone is approaching.
Sam wrenches his body into the woods, off the road. Hitting into a tree with angry hands until the bark is flayed loose and Sam’s back to being...Sam. Or at least a reasonable facsimile.
He waits a long time before he struggles back up to the road and continues walking. The hitchhiker is gone, saved by a passing car. And so Sam is saved from having to test himself again.
For now, he’s passed.
***
It gets really late (or early, as the case may be) and Lenore realizes she’s arrived at another juncture where a choice is necessary. The sun would be up soon; she could lie here and let the rays break her down into screaming dust. It would hurt but then it would be over. That sounded loads easier than spending every day with someone who held her happiness in his big clumsy hands.
Love had made her fatalistic.
Not even being a VAMPIRE had accomplished that.
***
Sam arrives at the motel with the sun poised on the horizon. He quickens his pace, reaching the door with a mixture of joy and relief and a euphoric hit of what he suspects cocaine might feel like. He knocks, waits.
Then realizes the Impala is not in the parking lot.
***
The damp earth seeps up through Lenore’s tee shirt and jeans. She can smell the daylight coming. She tries to imagine if it smells like death today.
She imagines Sam coming back to the motel room and finding her gone.
She imagines Sam coming back to the motel room, finding her gone and realizing she’s gone forever.
Lenore winces, fingers digging into the grass beneath her.
He’d miss her. And the Impala. She has his backpack. He’d be well and truly alone. Might as well go back and throw a stake through his heart.
Killing herself might be easy but killing him...
***
He breaks down the door and stumbles into the room, a growling rage bursting out of his chest. He knows. It’s empty - everything is gone. His backpack, Lenore’s bag, the laptop.
That doesn’t stop him from tearing into everything left standing; he slips the mattress and digs through the dirty towels in the bathroom. Everything is tumbling through his head like a hurricane, battering against his ears. Sam sees red until he runs out of steam - somewhere in the middle of the bedroom, lying against the foul rug.
Maybe this is a test, a small voice whispers. Bilka knew you’d leave early. He told Lenore to be out of there, see how you’d act. That’s it, it’s a test.
Or maybe she just got tired of you.
He lays there for a long time, until he can smell the full sunlight lurking through the drapes. Sam crawls into the windowless bathroom and shuts the door, sprawled on the tiny tile floor.
***
Lenore and poetic suicide have a break in their agreement; she ends up safely in the Impala and under a heavy tarp in the backseat as the sun rises, pissy and cursing and kicking her feet in a tantrum of epic proportions.
Thank God no one saw this...this incredibly failure of sanity on her part. She’s horrified. She’s embarrassed. She wants to get back to the motel and put everything back, get herself ready for Sam’s return. Because really - if after all this drama he didn’t come back manageable she was going to be really fucking pissed.
***
Sam dreams of everyone he’s burned or buried then specifically the ones of them he’s loved.
He dreams of them as piles of ashes surrounding him like land mines.
***
Sundown can’t come fast enough. Lenore clamors over the seat to the front and fires up the engine. She’s starving - a good sign. She’s pissed off. Also an excellent sign.
This is good.
She can do this.
The drive back to San Francisco includes two stops - one for gas (stolen), one for food (also stolen) - and as she cruises through the city limits, Lenore’s head feels better than it has for a long time. It’s tempting to drive up to Bilka’s and see Sam but she behaves and pulls into the motel’s parking lot.
And sees the door to their room cracked open, the frame busted.
Shit.
Lenore jumps out of the car and runs to the door, pausing for a moment to sniff. Takes another moment to recognize Sam and she pushes in with a relieved sigh.
***
Sam smells her before he registers anything else. He’s moving through the bathroom door and into the main area lightning and emotion and little else. Lizard brain on alert, human brain still in a fog of dreams. He tackles her around the midsection, slamming them both into the small table and chair in the corner.
He hears her shout and the splintering of wood and his own angry growls.
When her left hook connects with his jaw, he lets go long enough for her to roll them over; she’s nothing weight wise compared to him, nothing he can’t smack against the wall and crush like a bug. Sam lifts his hands, blind-eyed grabbing for her neck.
Right hook this time. He tastes blood and moans. Then he tastes her tongue.
***
She wasn’t prepared for the attack but there was still something to be chalked up to age and skill; Lenore manages to get the upper hand, fighting for her existence like she hadn’t cared to for awhile.
Panic flares at her heart. It didn’t help, he’s wild. She hits him again, feels his canines crack open her skin. The warm stench of blood fills the room and his moans, the thrust of his hips - everything shifts.
“Sam, Sam,” she mutters, pinning his arms over his head and God, he lets her and she could cry with relief. “Sam stop it.”
“You...left,” he hurls out and she presses her mouth down over his to stop him from saying anything else. She can’t bear it.
No, I didn’t except I did but I’m back, her kiss says, rubbing her body frantically against him. Lenore feels his control settling in even as he rocks his hips up.
He’s pissed and he wants to fuck her.
Victory.
***
When she breaks the kiss, Sam finally is clear-headed enough to look at Lenore’s face. She’s happy and broken at once and he shakes his head as if there’s sense to be made of anything. Of them.
“You...left....” he murmurs, licking the blood from his lips and straining against her hands.
“I came back. Clearly.” Lenore rocks her hips, grinding. Digging her fingers into his flesh.
“Clearly. I’m...I’m better.”
“I know.” The joy in her voice reaches him like nothing else could.
Sam wants to explain that he loves her as much as he’s ever loved anyone. Maybe more. Maybe it’s easier to be Sam with her - dark Sam and light Sam and the one who’s never felt “home” anywhere but with her.
But then he thinks, looking into her eyes, he doesn’t have to. She knows.