Fic :: Supernatural :: A Hole in a Lake of Ice
A Hole in a Lake of Ice
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam dreams and wakes up.
Posting date: March 2009
From here. Title from Shearwater's Failed Queen
*
Sam wakes up sudden, like an electric shock. He’s gasping for breath. There’s a flicker of sensation - somewhere dark and damp and musty, the rattle of chains around his wrists, cold dead fingers on his face, he could hear Dean shouting in the distance, calling his name - and then he blinks. Stares up at the cream ceiling, the tasteful light fixture.
“Morning,” Jess murmurs next to him, shifting on his - their? - bed.
“No,” Sam says, blankly.
Jess pushes herself up on one elbow with a frown. The sheet slides down her breasts, exposing a dusting of freckles on her sternum, the darker edge of a nipple. “What?”
Her hair tumbles into her face, golden and perfect.
“No,” Sam says. “This isn’t right. You’re -”
It’s still dark when Sam wakes up, Madison trailing one fingernail down his stomach. His skin prickles coolly in its wake.
“You sleep too much,” she says, snagging her fingers on the hem of his boxer shorts. She glances up at him with a dark-eyed, wolfish grin. Her eyes glint in the moonlight.
When’s the next full moon, Sam begins to wonder -
“Wakey wakey, rise and shine.”
Something smacks Sam in the face, jolting him awake to darkness. He scrabbles at the fabric, because there’s something on the other side, he knows, a woman in a musty white dress, face like a mask -
He shakes the t-shirt off of his head, squinting in the daylight.
“And you were the smart one, huh?” says Ruby. She’s sat on the edge of his bed, brushing her hair. “Come on, we gotta check out in ten.”
Motel. They’re in a motel. And they’re…
“Are we hunting something?” Sam asks. He tugs the t-shirt over his head. It smells freshly washed. “A woman?”
Ruby snorts, shooting him a look as she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. “Sure, Sam, a woman. That’s the nice way of putting it.”
“No, not Lilith. Someone else.” He leans forwards, rubbing a hand across his face. “In a dress? A - a bride.”
With his eyes closed, it’s almost like there are chains around his wrists -
“Hey, Sam.”
A hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Sam groans and forces his eyes apart. Dean is already up and dressed, grinning across at him.
“I got coffee,” he says, proudly, and he thrusts a disposable cup under Sam’s nose. There’s a flicker - the scent of must and rotting things - then Sam blinks and he’s breathing in the smell of fresh coffee.
“So I figure we’ve earned ourselves a bit of a breather,” Dean’s saying as Sam inhales his coffee. “Today, Sammy, we eat pizza and watch Mall Cop.”
Sam snorts. It scalds his tongue. “Seriously? Pizza and Mall Cop?”
“Pizza and Mall Cop,” Dean says with a grin. He pats Sam’s knee affectionately, then stands up, stretches with a groan. “So get up and get dressed while I use up all your hot water, mkay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam mutters, waving a hand. He grabs a t-shirt and gives it a cautious sniff; it smells almost wearable, so it’ll do. There’s - there was something else. Just, on the tip of his -
“Dean?” Sam calls. “No hunt today?”
“Hell no,” Dean yells back from the bathroom.
Sam huffs out a laugh, rifling through his duffle for a clean pair of boxers. The shower turns on and, loud and obnoxious through the paper-thin wall, Dean begins to sing. Just a normal day.
Something brushes across his face as he straightens up - like lace, Sam thinks.
He ignores it.
*
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam dreams and wakes up.
Posting date: March 2009
From here. Title from Shearwater's Failed Queen
*
Sam wakes up sudden, like an electric shock. He’s gasping for breath. There’s a flicker of sensation - somewhere dark and damp and musty, the rattle of chains around his wrists, cold dead fingers on his face, he could hear Dean shouting in the distance, calling his name - and then he blinks. Stares up at the cream ceiling, the tasteful light fixture.
“Morning,” Jess murmurs next to him, shifting on his - their? - bed.
“No,” Sam says, blankly.
Jess pushes herself up on one elbow with a frown. The sheet slides down her breasts, exposing a dusting of freckles on her sternum, the darker edge of a nipple. “What?”
Her hair tumbles into her face, golden and perfect.
“No,” Sam says. “This isn’t right. You’re -”
It’s still dark when Sam wakes up, Madison trailing one fingernail down his stomach. His skin prickles coolly in its wake.
“You sleep too much,” she says, snagging her fingers on the hem of his boxer shorts. She glances up at him with a dark-eyed, wolfish grin. Her eyes glint in the moonlight.
When’s the next full moon, Sam begins to wonder -
“Wakey wakey, rise and shine.”
Something smacks Sam in the face, jolting him awake to darkness. He scrabbles at the fabric, because there’s something on the other side, he knows, a woman in a musty white dress, face like a mask -
He shakes the t-shirt off of his head, squinting in the daylight.
“And you were the smart one, huh?” says Ruby. She’s sat on the edge of his bed, brushing her hair. “Come on, we gotta check out in ten.”
Motel. They’re in a motel. And they’re…
“Are we hunting something?” Sam asks. He tugs the t-shirt over his head. It smells freshly washed. “A woman?”
Ruby snorts, shooting him a look as she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. “Sure, Sam, a woman. That’s the nice way of putting it.”
“No, not Lilith. Someone else.” He leans forwards, rubbing a hand across his face. “In a dress? A - a bride.”
With his eyes closed, it’s almost like there are chains around his wrists -
“Hey, Sam.”
A hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Sam groans and forces his eyes apart. Dean is already up and dressed, grinning across at him.
“I got coffee,” he says, proudly, and he thrusts a disposable cup under Sam’s nose. There’s a flicker - the scent of must and rotting things - then Sam blinks and he’s breathing in the smell of fresh coffee.
“So I figure we’ve earned ourselves a bit of a breather,” Dean’s saying as Sam inhales his coffee. “Today, Sammy, we eat pizza and watch Mall Cop.”
Sam snorts. It scalds his tongue. “Seriously? Pizza and Mall Cop?”
“Pizza and Mall Cop,” Dean says with a grin. He pats Sam’s knee affectionately, then stands up, stretches with a groan. “So get up and get dressed while I use up all your hot water, mkay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam mutters, waving a hand. He grabs a t-shirt and gives it a cautious sniff; it smells almost wearable, so it’ll do. There’s - there was something else. Just, on the tip of his -
“Dean?” Sam calls. “No hunt today?”
“Hell no,” Dean yells back from the bathroom.
Sam huffs out a laugh, rifling through his duffle for a clean pair of boxers. The shower turns on and, loud and obnoxious through the paper-thin wall, Dean begins to sing. Just a normal day.
Something brushes across his face as he straightens up - like lace, Sam thinks.
He ignores it.
*