Demon's Year 09/?: Supernatural AU
Title: Demon's Year
Author:
yami_faerie
Words: ~5,000
Ratings/Warnings: Rated PG-13, or R if you're offended by the "f" word, language, some violence, spoilers for seasons 1-5.
Disclaimer: This isn't my world. I just like to imagine it is.
Summary: Dean has one year left to live before he goes to Hell. Meanwhile, he and Sam are being chased by the FBI, demons and even an escaped-from-prison Gordan Walker who wants Sam dead. Can Dean keep Sam alive before his Deal is up?
Chapter Nine: Wake Up, Die, Repeat
"I can't help but think that a lot of what's going on is out of your control."
"You have no idea."
- Victor Henricksen and Sam Winchester, "Journey: Somethin' to Hide"
Dean wasn't sure what he hated more, fires, or funerals. They were pretty entwined in his life, but this one bothered him.
Who would want to blow up one of Sam's college friends?
According to the coroner's report, she had been handcuffed to a chair and her skull had shown evidence of heavy, blunt force trauma. The police report said there was evidence of forced entry to her apartment, as well. But who did it and why?
"It had to be a human attack," Dean told Bobby over the phone the night before the funeral. Sam wasn't exactly up to going over the details of the death of one of his close friends from his one shot at 'normal' life. "The question is -?"
"Who would blow up a college student," Bobby finished for him grimly. "What about those Hunters you said came after you and Jo, lookin' for Sam back in New York?"
"I don't know," Dean sighed. "They didn't seem the type to kill innocent people."
"Can you think of anyone who could go that far?" Bobby asked.
Dean considered for a long moment. "Maybe someone like Gordon Walker," he finally said, "but the man's in prison for another twenty years at least, and I'm still not entirely convinced he would actually go that far."
"He did kill his sister," Bobby pointed out.
"She was a vampire," Dean returned. "Becky was completely human. Like I said, though, Gordon's in prison, and I can't think of anyone else who came close enough to learning the truth besides him."
"All right," Bobby said after a moment. "How's Sam doin'?"
Dean glanced across the motel room. Sam was zonked out on his bed, laptop still open on his stomach. "I gave him sleeping pills," he finally answered. "Kid seems to think that sleep is for the weak or something. Why can't we catch a break, Bobby?"
"I wish I knew, son," Bobby replied sadly. "I wish I knew."
The funeral was almost as difficult as Jessica's had been nearly two years ago, only this time Sam didn't really mingle with anyone. Becky and her brother Zach had been the only people from Stanford who knew anything about the supernatural, and everyone else who came hadn't seen Sam since Jessica's death. Still, somehow, Sam managed to handle the entire affair with a somber, but strong deference out of respect to his friend.
After that, however, Sam threw himself back into Hunting with fervor that was all-too-similar to the first few months after Jess had died. June quickly passed into July, and Dean felt lucky to get Sam to slow down long enough to buy a crate-full of fireworks on Independence Day and set them all off in a clearing in Nebraska. "Just like that one time in '96," Sam had said quietly, watching them go off with a small smile. "Thanks, Dean."
Dean had only smiled in reply. They spent the rest of the night sitting on the Impala's hood, watching the clear, starry night. Neither one said a single word for hours. It was a good night, one of the best Dean had had in a long time, and Hunting continued with little mishap thereafter for the next three weeks.
Then they went to the Broward County Mystery Spot and Sam changed overnight.
It started out like a regular Tuesday on the job.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam's eyes snapped open and he sat up, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand between his and Dean's beds. Dean was already up and dressed, tying the laces on his right boot, head bouncing along to Asia's Heat of the Moment.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!" he crowed, looking like a hyper five-year-old on too much sugar.
"Dude," Sam said, "Asia?"
"Come on," Dean said with a bright grin, "you love this song and you know it!"
"Yeah," Sam said sarcastically, "and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself."
Dean rolled his eyes as Sam mentally shut off the alarm clock and got out of bed. "You're no fun," he told Sam, finishing up his boot and heading for the bathroom sink. Sam snorted and quickly got dressed, joining his brother at the sink to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair really fast. Then they went out on foot for a diner located five blocks away, chatting amiably about nothing in particular.
It was your typical American diner, too. The cashier was giving an old man some change as the brothers entered, warning him to "drive safely now, Mr. Pickett!"
"Yeah, yeah," the man grumbled as he ambled out of the diner.
"Order up!" shouted the cook from the back.
There were three patrons sitting at the bar, and a waitress with the nametag 'Doris' was speaking to the youngest of the three men, telling him he couldn't stay unless he ordered something. Dean bypassed all the three men and took a seat at a booth, Sam sliding in across from him.
"Hey, Tuesday," Dean said, pointing at the sign listing the specials. "Pig 'n a poke."
"Do you even know what that is?" Sam asked with mild distaste.
"Just because you have the taste buds of a worm doesn't mean I can't appreciate the finer things in life," Dean retorted flippantly. Sam was saved from having to think of a reply when Doris the waitress walked up. She was clearly the older, motherly type, but she had a warm smile and happy disposition.
"Are you boys ready?" she asked, pad and pen out and ready.
"I'll have the special," Dean said, "side of bacon and a coffee."
"Make it two coffee's and a short stack," Sam added.
"You got it," Doris said, smiling again and walking away.
"So, why are we here again?" Dean finally asked.
"This professor named Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished," Sam answered with a sigh. "I told you yesterday."
"Right," Dean said, "but we care why?"
"Because his last known location was the Broward County Mystery Spot," Sam replied. He held out a pamphlet for the place and Dean took it, staring down at it with a faint frown.
"'Where the laws of physics have no meaning'?" He gave Sam a 'give me a break' look, but Doris came over before Sam could reply once again.
"Okay," she said, "two coffees, black…"
"Thank you," Dean said at once with one of his more charming smiles.
"And some hot sauce for the -"
The tray tipped and the bottle of hot sauce smashed into the ground.
"Oh!" Doris exclaimed. "Whoops! Crap." She looked up at the brothers and said "Sorry," before turning and belting out, "Clean up!"
Sam glanced at Dean, who raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee in silence.
After they ate, they started heading back down towards their motel, a dog tethered to a bike rack barking at them as they passed by.
"Sam," Dean finally said, "you know joints like this are only tourist traps right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling. The only danger is to your wallet."
"Yeah, I know," Sam said, "but there are some places in the world where holes open up and swallow people, like uh, the Bermuda Triangle, the Oregon Vortex -"
"And the Broward County Mystery Spot?" Dean said dubiously. "Seriously, Sam?"
"Some of these places are legit," Sam defended.
"Okay," Dean said, "so if it is - and that's a big fucking 'if' - then what's the lore?"
"Well -" Sam broke off as a girl walking in the opposite direction accidentally bumped shoulders with Dean.
"Excuse me," she said quickly and was gone.
"The lore's pretty freakin' nuts, actually," Sam finally said. "They say in these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend space-time, sending victims to God knows where."
"Right," Dean said. "Sounds a little X-Files to me."
Sam rolled his eyes.
The brothers passed two moving men trying to get a large desk through a not-so-large doorway.
"I told you it wouldn't fit!" one of the men said to the other.
"What d'you want?" the second man snapped. "A Pulitzer?"
"Whatever," Sam finally said, "just - look, I'm not saying it's really happening, but if it is, then we've gotta check it out and see if we can do anything."
"All right," Dean said, sounding very put-upon, "we'll go there after it closes, get ourselves a nice long look."
That night, they quietly broke into the building. It was everything that Dean had said and worse.
"Wow, uncanny," Dean said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he eyed a table that had been nailed to the ceiling. "Anything?"
The EMF reader in Sam's hand didn't even light up at all. "No," he said.
"Do we even know what we're looking for?" Dean asked.
"Yes," Sam snapped. Dean raised his eyebrows skeptically and Sam sighed. "No."
"Then I think we can call this one a bust," Dean stated. "Let's go."
"Fi- wait, there's someone coming," Sam quickly said, sensing another presence in the building. They started to head for the nearest exit -
"What are you doing here?" called out a man's voice. Sam and Dean turned to see a man holding a shotgun. Dean had pulled out his handgun, but quickly pointed it up and away when they realized the man was just a civilian.
"Are you tryin' to rob me?" the man asked, hands shaking.
"Hey," Sam said, "it's okay, please just calm down, we're leaving. No one's robbing anybody, I promise you."
Dean slowly lowered his gun.
"Don't move!" the man shouted.
"I'm just putting it down," Dean said carefully, "that's all." He continued, but the man's nervousness and shakiness became too much. Before Sam could react, the shotgun went off and Dean was thrown backwards onto the floor.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, dropping to the floor and practically crawling over to his brother. "Oh, no," he whispered, already feeling Dean start to slip away the way Danielle had and this couldn't be happening, not now, not so soon!
"I'm sorry," the man stuttered.
"Dean," Sam whispered, pressing down on the wound to try and stop the bleeding, even though he knew it was too late. "Call 9-1-1," he ordered the man, who followed at once, driven by the force of Sam's power. "Dean, you gotta hang on," Sam told his brother. "I should've made him put the gun down, I'm so sorry, Dean hang on …"
Dean's struggling breaths stopped and his presence faded away.
"Dean…" Sam closed his eyes and buried his face against Dean's neck.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam's eyes snapped open and he sat up in his bed.
Wait, sat up in his bed?
"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
Dean.
Dean was alive.
Dean was alive?
Sam gaped at Dean as he tied the laces on his right boot and then looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand between their beds.
"Dude," Dean said. "Asia."
Sam gaped at Dean some more.
"Dean…" he finally managed to choke out.
"Oh, come on," Dean said, sounding bright and happy, "you love this song and you know it!" He started mouthing along to the words of the song's chorus, finishing his bootlaces while bouncing his head in time with the music and pointing at Sam before getting to his feet and bounding away, head still bopping. He was in a very good mood today.
Sam watched him go and looked around in confusion before forcing himself out of bed and into clean clothes.
He watched Dean as he brushed his teeth, gargled for nearly a minute and then spit into the sink. Didn't he do that yesterday? Wasn't he dead yesterday?
"What?" Dean asked, and Sam realized he'd been staring.
"I don't know," he said.
"You all right?" Dean asked with a faint frown of concern.
"No," Sam said. "I think I… man, I had a weird dream."
Dean nodded knowingly. "Clowns or midgets?"
Sam glared, but his heart wasn't really in it.
A few minutes later, they headed out for a diner located five blocks away, but didn't they do that yesterday?
"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett!"
"Yeah, yeah," the old man replied, passing Sam and Dean as they entered the diner.
"Order up!"
"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal, you know the rules."
The youngest of the three men at the bar pushed some change at Doris and asked for coffee. Dean seated himself in the same booth as before (but there wasn't a before, was there?) and Sam took the seat across from him.
"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a poke!"
Sam stared at Dean. "It's Tuesday?" But it'd been Tuesday yesterday, right?
"Yeah," Dean said with a slight frown.
"Are you boys ready?"
Dean ordered the special with a side of bacon and black coffee. "Nothing for me, thanks," Sam quickly said.
"Lemme know if you change your mind," Doris told him before walking away.
"So, why are we here again?" Dean asked after a second.
Sam didn't say anything, too distracted by how familiar everything was, but they'd never been here before, so why -?
"Sam!" Dean's fingers snapped in Sam's face, attracting his attention.
"What?" Sam said, blinking.
"You sure you feel okay?" Dean asked.
"You don't…" Sam had never felt so completely bewildered. "You don't remember any of this?"
"Remember what?" asked Dean.
"This," Sam said, gesturing to everything. "Today, like - like it's happened before."
Dean blinked. "You mean like déjà vu?"
"No," Sam said. "I mean like it's really happened before."
"Like déjà vu," Dean repeated slowly, and Sam felt his temper shoot up.
"No, forget about déjà vu," he snapped. "Didn't we already live through today? Doesn't it feel like we're living it all over again?"
Dean stared at Sam for a long moment. "Okay, how is that not -?"
"Don't," Sam cut him off sharply. "Don't fucking say it -"
"Okay," came Doris' voice as she came over with a small tray. "Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for -"
The trap tipped and Sam's hand shot out, catching the bottle before it could smash on the floor.
"Oh, crap!" Then Doris realized what had happened as Sam set the bottle on the table. "Thanks!" she said brightly to him before walking away.
"Nice reflexes," Dean said.
Sam just felt even more confused.
Dog barking as they walked back in the direction they'd come from. Girl bumping into Dean with a hurried apology. Two moving men trying to fit a too-large desk through a not-so-large door. I remember all of this, Sam thought, trying hard to stem his panic. What's going on?
"Sam," Dean said as all these various, everyday things happened again, "I really don't get what you're talking about, I'm sorry."
"Look," Sam returned, "yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday, too!"
Dean's eyes widened. "Yeah, no, good, you're totally balanced."
Sam groaned in frustration. "You don't believe me?"
"I'm just saying that it's crazy," Dean said. "You know, like Dingo-ate-my-baby crazy. Are you sure it wasn't a vision?"
"I don't get visions any more," Sam replied. "And it was way too vivid, too… too real to be anything like that." She ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then -" He broke off.
"Then?" Dean prompted after a few seconds.
You died, Dean.
"I woke up." Sam's thoughts raced. "I really think we need to check that place out."
"Seriously?"
"Just - just go with me on this, okay?"
Dean raised his eyebrows. "So, let's go there after it closes, then -"
"No!" Sam shouted in a panic as the reached the street corner. "Let's just - we'll go there now, business hours, nice and crowded."
Dean stared at Sam for a long moment. "My God, you're a freak," he finally said, turning to walk away.
It was probably the words that kept Sam from moving after his brother right away.
The last year had helped Sam to reconcile his age-old hatred of the word 'freak' with the fact that was pretty much was a freak. No amount of normal life or sticking his head in the sand could change that. Dean had been exceptionally vocal during that time in saying that Sam wasn't a freak despite all evidence to the contrary, and Sam had appreciated it more than he could ever express (not that Dean would ever let him). Dean wasn't afraid of him, even if his abilities had weirded him out a lot at first, but even though he knew his brother (probably) didn't mean the word in the same way that Sam felt it cut into him, it didn't change the fact that he hadn't called Sam a freak at all since before L.A.
Of course, Dean hadn't been the same since Cold Oak. Neither of them had.
Sam swallowed hard and turned to follow Dean, shoving the reawakened pain of being so fucking different down deep where it couldn't hurt him again and -
WHAM!
A car came out of nowhere and hit Dean straight on. Sam ducked away as the car tires squealed to a stop, and then he was running towards Dean's crumpled figure on the ground.
No, no, no!
"Dean!" Sam shouted, barely taking in old Mr. Pickett's face as he looked out of the window of the driver's seat as he dropped to his brother's side. "Oh, God, no, not again, this can't happen again -"
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam's eyes snapped open.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
It couldn't be.
But it was. Dean was alive. Sam sat up and stared at the alarm clock.
T-U-E
It was Tuesday all over again.
Sam tried very hard to explain it to his brother, but Dean didn't remember any of it. He really had no idea that he'd already died two times.
"Dean," he said as they sat in the diner, "would you please listen to me? I am seriously flipping out."
Doris walked up to their booth.
"Are you boys ready?"
"He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee black, and nothing for me, thanks," Sam reeled off at once.
"You got it." Doris walked away.
"Sammy," Dean teased, "I get all tingly when you take control like that."
"Quick fucking around, Dean," Sam snapped.
Dean raised his hands defensively. "Wow, okay. So, you said you think you're what, stuck in a -?"
"A time loop," Sam said.
"Like Groundhog Day?"
"Exactly like that."
Dean was amused and not quite believing.
"Why don't you believe me?" Sam asked, starting to feel desperate.
"It just sounds crazy," Dean said. "You know, like -"
"Dingo-ate-my-baby crazy?" Sam quickly finished.
Dean blinked. "How'd you know I was gonna say that? You don't read minds."
"You've said it before," Sam replied testily, "that's my whole point."
Doris came over with the tray, setting down the coffee. The tray tilted, the hot sauce fell off -
"Crap!" Only Sam caught it once again. "Thanks!" Doris said before walking away.
"Nice reflexes," Dean said.
"No," Sam snapped, "I already knew it was gonna happen."
Dean frowned. "Okay, well there's gotta be some reasonable explanation -"
"There isn't, Dean!" Sam barely kept from shouting. "You've just gotta go with me on this, okay? You have to, you owe me that much!"
"Cam down -"
"Don't you fucking tell me to calm the fuck down, Dean," Sam practically hissed in frustration. "I can't calm down! I can't because -" He broke off, throat closing over the words.
There was a moment of silence. "Because what?" Dean finally asked in a much quieter voice.
Sam looked at his brother, feeling a sharp edge of hopelessness start to overtake him. "Because you die today, Dean."
Dean still didn't believe him. "I'm not gonna die," he said. "Not today."
"It's already happened twice now," Sam responded. "Two times, and I can't stop it, and I can't watch you die again, okay? You're just gonna have to believe me. Please."
Dean's doubt melted into concern on a level Sam hadn't felt since the night that Djinn had taken Dean and managed to wedge a crack into what had been a stable relationship. Well, as stable as a Winchester could manage, anyway. "All right," he sighed. "I don't know if I - look, we'll figure this out, okay?"
But they didn't. Sam kept Dean from being hit by Mr. Pickett's car, told him how he'd died those two times. Then they went to the Mystery Spot during operating hours, but it quickly became apparent that the place was a total hoax.
Dean suggested they get some take-out and lay low at the motel until the day ended as they walked back towards the diner -
BAM!
The large desk Sam had seen the two moving men try to get inside had been hoisted up on a rope. One of the men stood before Sam, the rope in his hands. The other guy stuck his head out the second-story window and stared at the frayed rope the desk had been attached to.
Dean was under that desk.
He was dead.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam opened his eyes and stared miserably at the ceiling of the motel room.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
But Sam refused to even sit up. He covered his face with his hands and tried his best not to completely break down.
"Heat of the moment!"
Dean choked on the sausage he ordered to replace his bacon in the diner.
"Heat of the moment!"
Dean slipped in the shower after Sam said they couldn't leave the motel room.
"Heat of the moment!"
They ordered in. "Do these tacos taste funny to you?" Dean asked.
"Heat of the moment!"
The outlet Dean plugged his razor into short-circuited and he was electrocuted.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam went back to the Mystery Spot and started tearing the place down with an axe. Dean tried to stop him. Dean got axed.
"Dean? Oh, no…"
"Heat of the moment!"
Dean tripped down the motel stairs and broke his neck.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam tried burning down the Mystery Spot. Dean got caught in the blaze and burned.
"Heat of the moment!"
Doris practiced her archery and missed. Badly.
Sam morosely followed Dean into the diner, bumping into Mr. Pickett as he left the diner.
"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a Poke."
Sam didn't care. He dropped Mr. Pickett's keys on the table. Dean frowned.
"Who's are those?"
"The old man's," Sam replied. "Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel."
Dean blinked in confusion as Doris walked up. "Are you boys ready?" she asked.
Dean ordered the same thing he always did.
"Hey, Doris," Sam said, sitting up just a little bit straighter. "What I'd like is for you to log in some more hours at the archery range. You're a terrible shot."
"How'd you know?" Doris asked with wide, surprised eyes.
"Lucky guess," Sam said dryly. Doris walked away.
"Okay," Dean finally said, "so you think you're caught in some kind of what again?"
"Time loop," Sam said dully.
"Like Groundhog Day."
"It doesn't matter," Sam sighed, "there's no way to stop it."
Dean pulled back, face scrunched in confusion. "Jeez, aren't you grumpy?"
"Yeah," Sam said, glaring at Dean. "I am. You wanna know why?"
Dean felt uncertain, but he asked, "Why?" anyway.
"Because I have lived through over a hundred Tuesdays, Dean, and it never stops. Ever. So yeah, I'm a little grumpy."
Dean looked even more confused.
"Hot sauce," Sam sighed.
"What?"
Doris walked over with the tray, set down the coffee and started to panic as the tray tilted. Sam caught the bottle without even looking and set it down on the table. "Thanks!"
"Nice reflexes -" Dean started.
"I knew it was gonna happen, Dean," Sam cut him off. "I know everything that's gonna happen."
Dean's expression turned skeptical. "You don't know everything," he said.
"Yeah, I do," Sam replied.
"Yeah, right," Dean said, but Sam said at the exactly same time, immediately followed by, "Nice guess."
"It wasn't a guess," Sam told Dean snidely. So, of course Dean got childish, and Sam just followed the script, word for word.
"Right, so now you can read minds instead of just emotions." Dean frowned. "Cut it out, Sam!" He glared at Sam. "You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish." Dean leaned across the table and Sam just followed him. "Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he -"
"Okay, enough!" Dean finally snapped, pulling away while looking a little disgusted and a lot confused.
"That's not all," Sam said. "Randy, the cashier? He's skimming from the register."
Sam watched Dean's eyes go to the other end of the diner and he frowned, obviously seeing that Sam was right. Sam leaned forward again and nodded at the oldest man at their end of the diner who was sitting at the bar. "Judge Myers? At night he puts on a furry bunny outfit."
The Judge dropped the drink in his hand, having heard what Sam said. Dean's expression became more confused as Sam nodded at the youngest man with the bits of change. "Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home."
"Sam," Dean said slowly, "what's your point?"
"My point," Sam said sharply, "is that I have been through every possible Tuesday in every possible way. I have ripped apart the Mystery Spot, burned it down, tried everything I know to save your life, and I can't. No matter what I do, you die." He slumped in his seat. "And then I wake up." He met Dean's eyes sadly. "And then it's Tuesday. Again."
This time through Tuesday, Dean actually stopped the girl who kept bumping into him and discovered she was the daughter of that missing professor. Dean got mauled by the dog on the sidewalk and died again, so Sam started to get his research in.
"Okay, so, this professor liked going to places like the Mystery Spot and debunking them," he told Dean at the diner four or five Tuesdays later. It was starting to blend into one long stream of consciousness and Sam was fucking exhausted. "Here's the blog he writes." He turned his laptop to face Dean.
"Let's see… 'Dexter Hasselbeck: Truth Warrior'?" Dean snorted. "More like a pompous schmuck if you ask me."
"He really was," Sam said. "I read all of his stuff, he's so full of himself he must've weighed a ton."
"When'd you find time to do all this research?" Dean asked. Sam ignored the question, putting his laptop away and sliding out of the booth.
"C'mon," he said. Dean rose as well, chuckling. "What?"
"It's just - it's funny, y'know? Guy spends his life crapping on Mystery Spots, and then he vanishes in one. It's kinda… poetic, y'know? Like just desserts."
A fissure of possibility wormed into Sam's brain. "You're right," he said slowly. He turned just as the other guy at the bar got up and left the diner. Sam froze.
That wasn't maple syrup.
It was strawberry.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Over a hundred Tuesdays and the man suddenly has strawberry syrup instead of maple?" Sam said incredulously.
"So?" Dean asked. "A guy can't suddenly have different syrup? It's a free country."
"Shut up," Sam sighed. "Nothing changes here, ever." He looked out the window and watched the man walk out of sight. "Except me."
TBC...
Author:
yami_faerie
Words: ~5,000
Ratings/Warnings: Rated PG-13, or R if you're offended by the "f" word, language, some violence, spoilers for seasons 1-5.
Disclaimer: This isn't my world. I just like to imagine it is.
Summary: Dean has one year left to live before he goes to Hell. Meanwhile, he and Sam are being chased by the FBI, demons and even an escaped-from-prison Gordan Walker who wants Sam dead. Can Dean keep Sam alive before his Deal is up?
Chapter Nine: Wake Up, Die, Repeat
"I can't help but think that a lot of what's going on is out of your control."
"You have no idea."
- Victor Henricksen and Sam Winchester, "Journey: Somethin' to Hide"
Dean wasn't sure what he hated more, fires, or funerals. They were pretty entwined in his life, but this one bothered him.
Who would want to blow up one of Sam's college friends?
According to the coroner's report, she had been handcuffed to a chair and her skull had shown evidence of heavy, blunt force trauma. The police report said there was evidence of forced entry to her apartment, as well. But who did it and why?
"It had to be a human attack," Dean told Bobby over the phone the night before the funeral. Sam wasn't exactly up to going over the details of the death of one of his close friends from his one shot at 'normal' life. "The question is -?"
"Who would blow up a college student," Bobby finished for him grimly. "What about those Hunters you said came after you and Jo, lookin' for Sam back in New York?"
"I don't know," Dean sighed. "They didn't seem the type to kill innocent people."
"Can you think of anyone who could go that far?" Bobby asked.
Dean considered for a long moment. "Maybe someone like Gordon Walker," he finally said, "but the man's in prison for another twenty years at least, and I'm still not entirely convinced he would actually go that far."
"He did kill his sister," Bobby pointed out.
"She was a vampire," Dean returned. "Becky was completely human. Like I said, though, Gordon's in prison, and I can't think of anyone else who came close enough to learning the truth besides him."
"All right," Bobby said after a moment. "How's Sam doin'?"
Dean glanced across the motel room. Sam was zonked out on his bed, laptop still open on his stomach. "I gave him sleeping pills," he finally answered. "Kid seems to think that sleep is for the weak or something. Why can't we catch a break, Bobby?"
"I wish I knew, son," Bobby replied sadly. "I wish I knew."
The funeral was almost as difficult as Jessica's had been nearly two years ago, only this time Sam didn't really mingle with anyone. Becky and her brother Zach had been the only people from Stanford who knew anything about the supernatural, and everyone else who came hadn't seen Sam since Jessica's death. Still, somehow, Sam managed to handle the entire affair with a somber, but strong deference out of respect to his friend.
After that, however, Sam threw himself back into Hunting with fervor that was all-too-similar to the first few months after Jess had died. June quickly passed into July, and Dean felt lucky to get Sam to slow down long enough to buy a crate-full of fireworks on Independence Day and set them all off in a clearing in Nebraska. "Just like that one time in '96," Sam had said quietly, watching them go off with a small smile. "Thanks, Dean."
Dean had only smiled in reply. They spent the rest of the night sitting on the Impala's hood, watching the clear, starry night. Neither one said a single word for hours. It was a good night, one of the best Dean had had in a long time, and Hunting continued with little mishap thereafter for the next three weeks.
Then they went to the Broward County Mystery Spot and Sam changed overnight.
It started out like a regular Tuesday on the job.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam's eyes snapped open and he sat up, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand between his and Dean's beds. Dean was already up and dressed, tying the laces on his right boot, head bouncing along to Asia's Heat of the Moment.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!" he crowed, looking like a hyper five-year-old on too much sugar.
"Dude," Sam said, "Asia?"
"Come on," Dean said with a bright grin, "you love this song and you know it!"
"Yeah," Sam said sarcastically, "and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself."
Dean rolled his eyes as Sam mentally shut off the alarm clock and got out of bed. "You're no fun," he told Sam, finishing up his boot and heading for the bathroom sink. Sam snorted and quickly got dressed, joining his brother at the sink to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair really fast. Then they went out on foot for a diner located five blocks away, chatting amiably about nothing in particular.
It was your typical American diner, too. The cashier was giving an old man some change as the brothers entered, warning him to "drive safely now, Mr. Pickett!"
"Yeah, yeah," the man grumbled as he ambled out of the diner.
"Order up!" shouted the cook from the back.
There were three patrons sitting at the bar, and a waitress with the nametag 'Doris' was speaking to the youngest of the three men, telling him he couldn't stay unless he ordered something. Dean bypassed all the three men and took a seat at a booth, Sam sliding in across from him.
"Hey, Tuesday," Dean said, pointing at the sign listing the specials. "Pig 'n a poke."
"Do you even know what that is?" Sam asked with mild distaste.
"Just because you have the taste buds of a worm doesn't mean I can't appreciate the finer things in life," Dean retorted flippantly. Sam was saved from having to think of a reply when Doris the waitress walked up. She was clearly the older, motherly type, but she had a warm smile and happy disposition.
"Are you boys ready?" she asked, pad and pen out and ready.
"I'll have the special," Dean said, "side of bacon and a coffee."
"Make it two coffee's and a short stack," Sam added.
"You got it," Doris said, smiling again and walking away.
"So, why are we here again?" Dean finally asked.
"This professor named Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished," Sam answered with a sigh. "I told you yesterday."
"Right," Dean said, "but we care why?"
"Because his last known location was the Broward County Mystery Spot," Sam replied. He held out a pamphlet for the place and Dean took it, staring down at it with a faint frown.
"'Where the laws of physics have no meaning'?" He gave Sam a 'give me a break' look, but Doris came over before Sam could reply once again.
"Okay," she said, "two coffees, black…"
"Thank you," Dean said at once with one of his more charming smiles.
"And some hot sauce for the -"
The tray tipped and the bottle of hot sauce smashed into the ground.
"Oh!" Doris exclaimed. "Whoops! Crap." She looked up at the brothers and said "Sorry," before turning and belting out, "Clean up!"
Sam glanced at Dean, who raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee in silence.
After they ate, they started heading back down towards their motel, a dog tethered to a bike rack barking at them as they passed by.
"Sam," Dean finally said, "you know joints like this are only tourist traps right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling. The only danger is to your wallet."
"Yeah, I know," Sam said, "but there are some places in the world where holes open up and swallow people, like uh, the Bermuda Triangle, the Oregon Vortex -"
"And the Broward County Mystery Spot?" Dean said dubiously. "Seriously, Sam?"
"Some of these places are legit," Sam defended.
"Okay," Dean said, "so if it is - and that's a big fucking 'if' - then what's the lore?"
"Well -" Sam broke off as a girl walking in the opposite direction accidentally bumped shoulders with Dean.
"Excuse me," she said quickly and was gone.
"The lore's pretty freakin' nuts, actually," Sam finally said. "They say in these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend space-time, sending victims to God knows where."
"Right," Dean said. "Sounds a little X-Files to me."
Sam rolled his eyes.
The brothers passed two moving men trying to get a large desk through a not-so-large doorway.
"I told you it wouldn't fit!" one of the men said to the other.
"What d'you want?" the second man snapped. "A Pulitzer?"
"Whatever," Sam finally said, "just - look, I'm not saying it's really happening, but if it is, then we've gotta check it out and see if we can do anything."
"All right," Dean said, sounding very put-upon, "we'll go there after it closes, get ourselves a nice long look."
That night, they quietly broke into the building. It was everything that Dean had said and worse.
"Wow, uncanny," Dean said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he eyed a table that had been nailed to the ceiling. "Anything?"
The EMF reader in Sam's hand didn't even light up at all. "No," he said.
"Do we even know what we're looking for?" Dean asked.
"Yes," Sam snapped. Dean raised his eyebrows skeptically and Sam sighed. "No."
"Then I think we can call this one a bust," Dean stated. "Let's go."
"Fi- wait, there's someone coming," Sam quickly said, sensing another presence in the building. They started to head for the nearest exit -
"What are you doing here?" called out a man's voice. Sam and Dean turned to see a man holding a shotgun. Dean had pulled out his handgun, but quickly pointed it up and away when they realized the man was just a civilian.
"Are you tryin' to rob me?" the man asked, hands shaking.
"Hey," Sam said, "it's okay, please just calm down, we're leaving. No one's robbing anybody, I promise you."
Dean slowly lowered his gun.
"Don't move!" the man shouted.
"I'm just putting it down," Dean said carefully, "that's all." He continued, but the man's nervousness and shakiness became too much. Before Sam could react, the shotgun went off and Dean was thrown backwards onto the floor.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, dropping to the floor and practically crawling over to his brother. "Oh, no," he whispered, already feeling Dean start to slip away the way Danielle had and this couldn't be happening, not now, not so soon!
"I'm sorry," the man stuttered.
"Dean," Sam whispered, pressing down on the wound to try and stop the bleeding, even though he knew it was too late. "Call 9-1-1," he ordered the man, who followed at once, driven by the force of Sam's power. "Dean, you gotta hang on," Sam told his brother. "I should've made him put the gun down, I'm so sorry, Dean hang on …"
Dean's struggling breaths stopped and his presence faded away.
"Dean…" Sam closed his eyes and buried his face against Dean's neck.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam's eyes snapped open and he sat up in his bed.
Wait, sat up in his bed?
"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
Dean.
Dean was alive.
Dean was alive?
Sam gaped at Dean as he tied the laces on his right boot and then looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand between their beds.
"Dude," Dean said. "Asia."
Sam gaped at Dean some more.
"Dean…" he finally managed to choke out.
"Oh, come on," Dean said, sounding bright and happy, "you love this song and you know it!" He started mouthing along to the words of the song's chorus, finishing his bootlaces while bouncing his head in time with the music and pointing at Sam before getting to his feet and bounding away, head still bopping. He was in a very good mood today.
Sam watched him go and looked around in confusion before forcing himself out of bed and into clean clothes.
He watched Dean as he brushed his teeth, gargled for nearly a minute and then spit into the sink. Didn't he do that yesterday? Wasn't he dead yesterday?
"What?" Dean asked, and Sam realized he'd been staring.
"I don't know," he said.
"You all right?" Dean asked with a faint frown of concern.
"No," Sam said. "I think I… man, I had a weird dream."
Dean nodded knowingly. "Clowns or midgets?"
Sam glared, but his heart wasn't really in it.
A few minutes later, they headed out for a diner located five blocks away, but didn't they do that yesterday?
"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett!"
"Yeah, yeah," the old man replied, passing Sam and Dean as they entered the diner.
"Order up!"
"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal, you know the rules."
The youngest of the three men at the bar pushed some change at Doris and asked for coffee. Dean seated himself in the same booth as before (but there wasn't a before, was there?) and Sam took the seat across from him.
"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a poke!"
Sam stared at Dean. "It's Tuesday?" But it'd been Tuesday yesterday, right?
"Yeah," Dean said with a slight frown.
"Are you boys ready?"
Dean ordered the special with a side of bacon and black coffee. "Nothing for me, thanks," Sam quickly said.
"Lemme know if you change your mind," Doris told him before walking away.
"So, why are we here again?" Dean asked after a second.
Sam didn't say anything, too distracted by how familiar everything was, but they'd never been here before, so why -?
"Sam!" Dean's fingers snapped in Sam's face, attracting his attention.
"What?" Sam said, blinking.
"You sure you feel okay?" Dean asked.
"You don't…" Sam had never felt so completely bewildered. "You don't remember any of this?"
"Remember what?" asked Dean.
"This," Sam said, gesturing to everything. "Today, like - like it's happened before."
Dean blinked. "You mean like déjà vu?"
"No," Sam said. "I mean like it's really happened before."
"Like déjà vu," Dean repeated slowly, and Sam felt his temper shoot up.
"No, forget about déjà vu," he snapped. "Didn't we already live through today? Doesn't it feel like we're living it all over again?"
Dean stared at Sam for a long moment. "Okay, how is that not -?"
"Don't," Sam cut him off sharply. "Don't fucking say it -"
"Okay," came Doris' voice as she came over with a small tray. "Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for -"
The trap tipped and Sam's hand shot out, catching the bottle before it could smash on the floor.
"Oh, crap!" Then Doris realized what had happened as Sam set the bottle on the table. "Thanks!" she said brightly to him before walking away.
"Nice reflexes," Dean said.
Sam just felt even more confused.
Dog barking as they walked back in the direction they'd come from. Girl bumping into Dean with a hurried apology. Two moving men trying to fit a too-large desk through a not-so-large door. I remember all of this, Sam thought, trying hard to stem his panic. What's going on?
"Sam," Dean said as all these various, everyday things happened again, "I really don't get what you're talking about, I'm sorry."
"Look," Sam returned, "yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday, too!"
Dean's eyes widened. "Yeah, no, good, you're totally balanced."
Sam groaned in frustration. "You don't believe me?"
"I'm just saying that it's crazy," Dean said. "You know, like Dingo-ate-my-baby crazy. Are you sure it wasn't a vision?"
"I don't get visions any more," Sam replied. "And it was way too vivid, too… too real to be anything like that." She ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then -" He broke off.
"Then?" Dean prompted after a few seconds.
You died, Dean.
"I woke up." Sam's thoughts raced. "I really think we need to check that place out."
"Seriously?"
"Just - just go with me on this, okay?"
Dean raised his eyebrows. "So, let's go there after it closes, then -"
"No!" Sam shouted in a panic as the reached the street corner. "Let's just - we'll go there now, business hours, nice and crowded."
Dean stared at Sam for a long moment. "My God, you're a freak," he finally said, turning to walk away.
It was probably the words that kept Sam from moving after his brother right away.
The last year had helped Sam to reconcile his age-old hatred of the word 'freak' with the fact that was pretty much was a freak. No amount of normal life or sticking his head in the sand could change that. Dean had been exceptionally vocal during that time in saying that Sam wasn't a freak despite all evidence to the contrary, and Sam had appreciated it more than he could ever express (not that Dean would ever let him). Dean wasn't afraid of him, even if his abilities had weirded him out a lot at first, but even though he knew his brother (probably) didn't mean the word in the same way that Sam felt it cut into him, it didn't change the fact that he hadn't called Sam a freak at all since before L.A.
Of course, Dean hadn't been the same since Cold Oak. Neither of them had.
Sam swallowed hard and turned to follow Dean, shoving the reawakened pain of being so fucking different down deep where it couldn't hurt him again and -
WHAM!
A car came out of nowhere and hit Dean straight on. Sam ducked away as the car tires squealed to a stop, and then he was running towards Dean's crumpled figure on the ground.
No, no, no!
"Dean!" Sam shouted, barely taking in old Mr. Pickett's face as he looked out of the window of the driver's seat as he dropped to his brother's side. "Oh, God, no, not again, this can't happen again -"
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam's eyes snapped open.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
It couldn't be.
But it was. Dean was alive. Sam sat up and stared at the alarm clock.
T-U-E
It was Tuesday all over again.
Sam tried very hard to explain it to his brother, but Dean didn't remember any of it. He really had no idea that he'd already died two times.
"Dean," he said as they sat in the diner, "would you please listen to me? I am seriously flipping out."
Doris walked up to their booth.
"Are you boys ready?"
"He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee black, and nothing for me, thanks," Sam reeled off at once.
"You got it." Doris walked away.
"Sammy," Dean teased, "I get all tingly when you take control like that."
"Quick fucking around, Dean," Sam snapped.
Dean raised his hands defensively. "Wow, okay. So, you said you think you're what, stuck in a -?"
"A time loop," Sam said.
"Like Groundhog Day?"
"Exactly like that."
Dean was amused and not quite believing.
"Why don't you believe me?" Sam asked, starting to feel desperate.
"It just sounds crazy," Dean said. "You know, like -"
"Dingo-ate-my-baby crazy?" Sam quickly finished.
Dean blinked. "How'd you know I was gonna say that? You don't read minds."
"You've said it before," Sam replied testily, "that's my whole point."
Doris came over with the tray, setting down the coffee. The tray tilted, the hot sauce fell off -
"Crap!" Only Sam caught it once again. "Thanks!" Doris said before walking away.
"Nice reflexes," Dean said.
"No," Sam snapped, "I already knew it was gonna happen."
Dean frowned. "Okay, well there's gotta be some reasonable explanation -"
"There isn't, Dean!" Sam barely kept from shouting. "You've just gotta go with me on this, okay? You have to, you owe me that much!"
"Cam down -"
"Don't you fucking tell me to calm the fuck down, Dean," Sam practically hissed in frustration. "I can't calm down! I can't because -" He broke off, throat closing over the words.
There was a moment of silence. "Because what?" Dean finally asked in a much quieter voice.
Sam looked at his brother, feeling a sharp edge of hopelessness start to overtake him. "Because you die today, Dean."
Dean still didn't believe him. "I'm not gonna die," he said. "Not today."
"It's already happened twice now," Sam responded. "Two times, and I can't stop it, and I can't watch you die again, okay? You're just gonna have to believe me. Please."
Dean's doubt melted into concern on a level Sam hadn't felt since the night that Djinn had taken Dean and managed to wedge a crack into what had been a stable relationship. Well, as stable as a Winchester could manage, anyway. "All right," he sighed. "I don't know if I - look, we'll figure this out, okay?"
But they didn't. Sam kept Dean from being hit by Mr. Pickett's car, told him how he'd died those two times. Then they went to the Mystery Spot during operating hours, but it quickly became apparent that the place was a total hoax.
Dean suggested they get some take-out and lay low at the motel until the day ended as they walked back towards the diner -
BAM!
The large desk Sam had seen the two moving men try to get inside had been hoisted up on a rope. One of the men stood before Sam, the rope in his hands. The other guy stuck his head out the second-story window and stared at the frayed rope the desk had been attached to.
Dean was under that desk.
He was dead.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam opened his eyes and stared miserably at the ceiling of the motel room.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!"
But Sam refused to even sit up. He covered his face with his hands and tried his best not to completely break down.
"Heat of the moment!"
Dean choked on the sausage he ordered to replace his bacon in the diner.
"Heat of the moment!"
Dean slipped in the shower after Sam said they couldn't leave the motel room.
"Heat of the moment!"
They ordered in. "Do these tacos taste funny to you?" Dean asked.
"Heat of the moment!"
The outlet Dean plugged his razor into short-circuited and he was electrocuted.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam went back to the Mystery Spot and started tearing the place down with an axe. Dean tried to stop him. Dean got axed.
"Dean? Oh, no…"
"Heat of the moment!"
Dean tripped down the motel stairs and broke his neck.
"Heat of the moment!"
Sam tried burning down the Mystery Spot. Dean got caught in the blaze and burned.
"Heat of the moment!"
Doris practiced her archery and missed. Badly.
Sam morosely followed Dean into the diner, bumping into Mr. Pickett as he left the diner.
"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a Poke."
Sam didn't care. He dropped Mr. Pickett's keys on the table. Dean frowned.
"Who's are those?"
"The old man's," Sam replied. "Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel."
Dean blinked in confusion as Doris walked up. "Are you boys ready?" she asked.
Dean ordered the same thing he always did.
"Hey, Doris," Sam said, sitting up just a little bit straighter. "What I'd like is for you to log in some more hours at the archery range. You're a terrible shot."
"How'd you know?" Doris asked with wide, surprised eyes.
"Lucky guess," Sam said dryly. Doris walked away.
"Okay," Dean finally said, "so you think you're caught in some kind of what again?"
"Time loop," Sam said dully.
"Like Groundhog Day."
"It doesn't matter," Sam sighed, "there's no way to stop it."
Dean pulled back, face scrunched in confusion. "Jeez, aren't you grumpy?"
"Yeah," Sam said, glaring at Dean. "I am. You wanna know why?"
Dean felt uncertain, but he asked, "Why?" anyway.
"Because I have lived through over a hundred Tuesdays, Dean, and it never stops. Ever. So yeah, I'm a little grumpy."
Dean looked even more confused.
"Hot sauce," Sam sighed.
"What?"
Doris walked over with the tray, set down the coffee and started to panic as the tray tilted. Sam caught the bottle without even looking and set it down on the table. "Thanks!"
"Nice reflexes -" Dean started.
"I knew it was gonna happen, Dean," Sam cut him off. "I know everything that's gonna happen."
Dean's expression turned skeptical. "You don't know everything," he said.
"Yeah, I do," Sam replied.
"Yeah, right," Dean said, but Sam said at the exactly same time, immediately followed by, "Nice guess."
"It wasn't a guess," Sam told Dean snidely. So, of course Dean got childish, and Sam just followed the script, word for word.
"Right, so now you can read minds instead of just emotions." Dean frowned. "Cut it out, Sam!" He glared at Sam. "You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish." Dean leaned across the table and Sam just followed him. "Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he -"
"Okay, enough!" Dean finally snapped, pulling away while looking a little disgusted and a lot confused.
"That's not all," Sam said. "Randy, the cashier? He's skimming from the register."
Sam watched Dean's eyes go to the other end of the diner and he frowned, obviously seeing that Sam was right. Sam leaned forward again and nodded at the oldest man at their end of the diner who was sitting at the bar. "Judge Myers? At night he puts on a furry bunny outfit."
The Judge dropped the drink in his hand, having heard what Sam said. Dean's expression became more confused as Sam nodded at the youngest man with the bits of change. "Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home."
"Sam," Dean said slowly, "what's your point?"
"My point," Sam said sharply, "is that I have been through every possible Tuesday in every possible way. I have ripped apart the Mystery Spot, burned it down, tried everything I know to save your life, and I can't. No matter what I do, you die." He slumped in his seat. "And then I wake up." He met Dean's eyes sadly. "And then it's Tuesday. Again."
This time through Tuesday, Dean actually stopped the girl who kept bumping into him and discovered she was the daughter of that missing professor. Dean got mauled by the dog on the sidewalk and died again, so Sam started to get his research in.
"Okay, so, this professor liked going to places like the Mystery Spot and debunking them," he told Dean at the diner four or five Tuesdays later. It was starting to blend into one long stream of consciousness and Sam was fucking exhausted. "Here's the blog he writes." He turned his laptop to face Dean.
"Let's see… 'Dexter Hasselbeck: Truth Warrior'?" Dean snorted. "More like a pompous schmuck if you ask me."
"He really was," Sam said. "I read all of his stuff, he's so full of himself he must've weighed a ton."
"When'd you find time to do all this research?" Dean asked. Sam ignored the question, putting his laptop away and sliding out of the booth.
"C'mon," he said. Dean rose as well, chuckling. "What?"
"It's just - it's funny, y'know? Guy spends his life crapping on Mystery Spots, and then he vanishes in one. It's kinda… poetic, y'know? Like just desserts."
A fissure of possibility wormed into Sam's brain. "You're right," he said slowly. He turned just as the other guy at the bar got up and left the diner. Sam froze.
That wasn't maple syrup.
It was strawberry.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Over a hundred Tuesdays and the man suddenly has strawberry syrup instead of maple?" Sam said incredulously.
"So?" Dean asked. "A guy can't suddenly have different syrup? It's a free country."
"Shut up," Sam sighed. "Nothing changes here, ever." He looked out the window and watched the man walk out of sight. "Except me."
TBC...