OOC: Ghost Love Score
Title: Ghost Love Score
Characters: Sam Winchester (original), Jessica Moore (OOC)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1905
Description: Sam disappeared for a week. This would be the explanation as to why.
Sam jerked awake, his eyes wide with shock, sweat running down his face. His heart was racing in his chest, & he couldn’t catch his breath.
It was just a nightmare… His mind whispered, trying to sooth his wired nerves.
But then his eyes wheeled to the wall in front of him, & his heart stopped. Jessica stood against the wall, a coy look on her face, a finger twirling her blonde locks. She was dressed in the nurse’s outfit she had worn to the Halloween party the night she died.
The six-four man swallowed hard, rubbing at his face, convinced he was still dreaming. But when he opened those green eyes, she was still there, & now she was crawling along his bed, inching her way closer to him.
He looked over at Dean’s bed, to find his older brother fast asleep, lightly snoring & kicking while he dreamed. Sam often wondered if his brother dreamed of the monsters that lurked in the dark back home, or if happier thoughts danced across his psyche.
& then Jessica was practically in his lap, yet he barely registered her weight, as a cool hand slid across his cheek, cradling his stubble-roughened face. Her breath was just as cold as it played across his features, & he shivered involuntarily. "What are you doing here?" he murmured, keeping his voice low as to not wake up Dean. He'd hate to explain to his brother why he was talking to what could very well be just a figment on his imagination.
"Now that's no way to greet the love of your life, is it?" Her voice was husky, her eyes darker than usual, & though it was amazing to see her, something still felt wrong -- off somehow.
Sam bit his lower lip, trying not to lean into the caress. "What are you doing here, Jessica?" His tone was softer, a little less harsh, his eyes glazing slightly as the time crept by.
"Sam, you say that like you're not happy to see me," she pouted, her own lower lip jutting out, ripe & full & still that perfect candy apple red. "I'm here to fix things. We can be together again, you & me. I'll bake cookies & we can go for walks, & maybe even get our own puppy..."
Her voice was escalating in pitch as she went on, causing Sam to bring a finger to her dead lips, his eyes flicking over to Dean who was shifting in his sleep. He gently pushed Jessica off his lap, carefully getting out of bed & padding to the door. The bedroom wasn't the place for a conversation like this. He really hoped he wasn't losing his mind, & Jessica was really here, in some form or another. Dean would never let him live it down if he found Sam in the living room, talking with the furniture.
Phèdre was curled up on the foot of Dean's bed, deep in sleep, probably dreaming of chasing cats or squirrels, maybe frolicking with bunnies in fields. She barely even wiggled as Sam & Jessica crept past, out into the hallway. Maybe she was just too young, or Jessica was somewhat real, because Sam knew dogs were prone to go nuts around the supernatural. He shrugged, ushering Jessica out of his room, & closing the door softly, hoping Dean wouldn't wake up & panic in his absence.
He sat on the couch, taking a deep breath & exhaling slowly. "That can't be us anymore. I've... I've moved on, Jess."
The look on her face spoke volumes, even though her voice was smooth & sultry, just like it always had been. "Oh, you're seeing someone new? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised... it has been two years since my death & all."
Sam said nothing, a pensive, tired look on his face. She continued, a sad look haunting her face, "But it shouldn't hurt this much, should it? I mean, really, you were quite the lovestruck puppy, but even you couldn't hold out for two years. & you thought I was dead..."
"You're rambling. & I'm sorry?" His voice was strained, his eyes downcast & focusing on the fringe of the living room rug -- it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
A tear dribbled down her cheek to splash on her hand, & she gasped. The floodgates let loose, & she began to cry. Her sobs wracked her thin frame, her mascara running & staining the pristine white uniform that barely managed to cover her ass, let alone the V where her legs met. She was beautiful, there was no denying it. & when she cried, rather than looking like a puffy-faced Cabbage Patch kid, her cheeks & nose merely flushed, & her eyes went all glassy.
Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder, shuddering as the natural cold her body seemed to emit soaked into his naturally warm hands. "Look, I'm sorry, really. But to be perfectly blunt, what the fuck are you doing here? You're dead, Jessica."
The blonde lifted her head, tear-filled eyes threatening to spill over again. "Well I know that, silly." Her voice was suddenly light & cheerful, & the look on her face shifted from sorrow & distress to cunning. Her eyes cleared up, her face went back to its normal tan color, & a twisted smile curved her lipstick-coated lips.
"Well darling, if I can't have you... then no one will," she whispered, one of Sam's tomes appearing in her hand, & coming down on top of his head with frightening force. Sam didn't even have time to try to block the attack as stars filled his vision.
Before his body could crumple to the floor, causing a ruckus, the thing that claimed to be Jessica caught him like he was feather-light, throwing him over her shoulder. Without a sound, she blinked & the pair vanished into thin air.
* * *
A groan fell from chapped lips, weary eyes opening slowly to a dim room. Hands bound behind his back, Sam winced as the throbbing in his head intensified now that he was awake again. The chair he was placed in was downright uncomfortable, but there was nothing to bind him to the seat. He stood on shaky legs, nearly falling as the edges of his vision blurred & darkened. When he had regained his senses, he found himself alone, wherever the hell he was.
He blinked in confusion as he realized that the comforting weight of the handgun that he had stuffed into the back of his jeans before leaving the bedroom was still sitting in the small of his back, the cool metal like a reassuring hand. It was loaded with rock salt, as he knew Dean would kill him for going unarmed -- that is, if he ever got out of here.
The last thing the man remembered was Jessica turning vicious & using his new first edition copy of Grimm's Fairytales to knock him unconscious. Fucking bitch, he thought to himself as he wiggled his hands, checking the rope's security. & as he expected, they were hardly anything he couldn't escape from.
"Obviously this Jessica is lacking in the smarts department," he muttered as he twisted his wrists, wriggling free from the chaffing rope. He left his gun in his jeans, not wanting to show his hand when the bad guy wasn't even around & could quite possibly sneak up on him.
Wandering around the twilight room, he found nothing of interest, nothing to reveal how Jessica was here (altar, runes, etc.) or even why. But then again, this was Template, & ultimately nothing made sense here. There never seemed to be a logical explanation behind anything around here.
Which might explain why there was no obvious door or window to escape from. In fact, the more he thought about it, things were rather slimy looking, & there was a foul odor in the air. He smacked his forehead with an open palm, feeling like an idiot. Of course there was no exit; he was in the damn sewers -- again.
Swearing under his breath, he started moving toward the spot where he had felt a bit of a breeze, hoping that maybe there was a panel or stone door he had missed. & yup, there it was, covered in God knows what. "Fantastic," he sighed, biting his lip in disgust as his hands sank into the goo, pushing hard on the door. It gave after a minute of resistance, the stones grinding & groaning as they scraped against each other. & fancy that, on the other side, more ooze & sludge, but thankfully light shone down from the occasion grate. All he had to do was find a manhole & he was home free.
"Where do you think you're going?" Jessica purred in his ear, startling him off balance. She caught his arm before he fell on his face into the greenish gunk that coated the floor, pulling him upright with little trouble. Definitely stronger than she had been while living, that was for sure. Before he had a chance to reply, she socked him in the eye, his head snapping back with a sickening crack. Her nails sunk into his arm to keep him standing, dragging down the bare skin & leaving nasty gashes in their wake.
He cried out, his face twisting in pain as his nerves seared & screamed at his brain to get the fuck out of there. Reaching behind him with his free hand, he grabbed the handgun from his waistband, cocking it with a flick of his thumb, his finger already on the trigger as he whipped it up in between him & the apparition that claimed to be his dead ex-girlfriend.
As much as Sam wanted to use a snarky one-liner à la Dean, but every single one that came to mind fell short of what he really wanted to say. So instead he said nothing as he pulled the trigger, the barrel of the gun shoved right in "Jessica's" face. Whatever she had been, rock salt did the trick, her face exploded into a million pieces. With her head no longer intact, the rest of her body crumbled to the slimy floor, leaving only a few flecks of dust to show she had ever been there at all.
With a soft exhale, he returned the gun to its resting place at the small of his back. Even here, the creepy crawlies still had it out for him. He shook his head, wishing he could have asked what she was doing here, what she was, & what she wanted from him. But whatever she had been obviously didn't want to talk, she really just wanted to tear him apart & watch him bleed.
"Fuck it," he sighed, dragging a hand through his tangled hair, still wondering how long he had been underground. His hair felt greasy, like he had been on the road for three or four days without a shower. He shuddered, not really wanting to know.
Looking around, Sam saw a ladder further down the tunnel, which undoubtedly led to a manhole, & oh yes, the surface. He sprinted to the ladder, fighting to keep his balance on the slick floor, his hands clutching desperately at the half-rusted metal as he started to climb to sweet, sweet freedom.
Characters: Sam Winchester (original), Jessica Moore (OOC)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1905
Description: Sam disappeared for a week. This would be the explanation as to why.
Sam jerked awake, his eyes wide with shock, sweat running down his face. His heart was racing in his chest, & he couldn’t catch his breath.
It was just a nightmare… His mind whispered, trying to sooth his wired nerves.
But then his eyes wheeled to the wall in front of him, & his heart stopped. Jessica stood against the wall, a coy look on her face, a finger twirling her blonde locks. She was dressed in the nurse’s outfit she had worn to the Halloween party the night she died.
The six-four man swallowed hard, rubbing at his face, convinced he was still dreaming. But when he opened those green eyes, she was still there, & now she was crawling along his bed, inching her way closer to him.
He looked over at Dean’s bed, to find his older brother fast asleep, lightly snoring & kicking while he dreamed. Sam often wondered if his brother dreamed of the monsters that lurked in the dark back home, or if happier thoughts danced across his psyche.
& then Jessica was practically in his lap, yet he barely registered her weight, as a cool hand slid across his cheek, cradling his stubble-roughened face. Her breath was just as cold as it played across his features, & he shivered involuntarily. "What are you doing here?" he murmured, keeping his voice low as to not wake up Dean. He'd hate to explain to his brother why he was talking to what could very well be just a figment on his imagination.
"Now that's no way to greet the love of your life, is it?" Her voice was husky, her eyes darker than usual, & though it was amazing to see her, something still felt wrong -- off somehow.
Sam bit his lower lip, trying not to lean into the caress. "What are you doing here, Jessica?" His tone was softer, a little less harsh, his eyes glazing slightly as the time crept by.
"Sam, you say that like you're not happy to see me," she pouted, her own lower lip jutting out, ripe & full & still that perfect candy apple red. "I'm here to fix things. We can be together again, you & me. I'll bake cookies & we can go for walks, & maybe even get our own puppy..."
Her voice was escalating in pitch as she went on, causing Sam to bring a finger to her dead lips, his eyes flicking over to Dean who was shifting in his sleep. He gently pushed Jessica off his lap, carefully getting out of bed & padding to the door. The bedroom wasn't the place for a conversation like this. He really hoped he wasn't losing his mind, & Jessica was really here, in some form or another. Dean would never let him live it down if he found Sam in the living room, talking with the furniture.
Phèdre was curled up on the foot of Dean's bed, deep in sleep, probably dreaming of chasing cats or squirrels, maybe frolicking with bunnies in fields. She barely even wiggled as Sam & Jessica crept past, out into the hallway. Maybe she was just too young, or Jessica was somewhat real, because Sam knew dogs were prone to go nuts around the supernatural. He shrugged, ushering Jessica out of his room, & closing the door softly, hoping Dean wouldn't wake up & panic in his absence.
He sat on the couch, taking a deep breath & exhaling slowly. "That can't be us anymore. I've... I've moved on, Jess."
The look on her face spoke volumes, even though her voice was smooth & sultry, just like it always had been. "Oh, you're seeing someone new? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised... it has been two years since my death & all."
Sam said nothing, a pensive, tired look on his face. She continued, a sad look haunting her face, "But it shouldn't hurt this much, should it? I mean, really, you were quite the lovestruck puppy, but even you couldn't hold out for two years. & you thought I was dead..."
"You're rambling. & I'm sorry?" His voice was strained, his eyes downcast & focusing on the fringe of the living room rug -- it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
A tear dribbled down her cheek to splash on her hand, & she gasped. The floodgates let loose, & she began to cry. Her sobs wracked her thin frame, her mascara running & staining the pristine white uniform that barely managed to cover her ass, let alone the V where her legs met. She was beautiful, there was no denying it. & when she cried, rather than looking like a puffy-faced Cabbage Patch kid, her cheeks & nose merely flushed, & her eyes went all glassy.
Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder, shuddering as the natural cold her body seemed to emit soaked into his naturally warm hands. "Look, I'm sorry, really. But to be perfectly blunt, what the fuck are you doing here? You're dead, Jessica."
The blonde lifted her head, tear-filled eyes threatening to spill over again. "Well I know that, silly." Her voice was suddenly light & cheerful, & the look on her face shifted from sorrow & distress to cunning. Her eyes cleared up, her face went back to its normal tan color, & a twisted smile curved her lipstick-coated lips.
"Well darling, if I can't have you... then no one will," she whispered, one of Sam's tomes appearing in her hand, & coming down on top of his head with frightening force. Sam didn't even have time to try to block the attack as stars filled his vision.
Before his body could crumple to the floor, causing a ruckus, the thing that claimed to be Jessica caught him like he was feather-light, throwing him over her shoulder. Without a sound, she blinked & the pair vanished into thin air.
* * *
A groan fell from chapped lips, weary eyes opening slowly to a dim room. Hands bound behind his back, Sam winced as the throbbing in his head intensified now that he was awake again. The chair he was placed in was downright uncomfortable, but there was nothing to bind him to the seat. He stood on shaky legs, nearly falling as the edges of his vision blurred & darkened. When he had regained his senses, he found himself alone, wherever the hell he was.
He blinked in confusion as he realized that the comforting weight of the handgun that he had stuffed into the back of his jeans before leaving the bedroom was still sitting in the small of his back, the cool metal like a reassuring hand. It was loaded with rock salt, as he knew Dean would kill him for going unarmed -- that is, if he ever got out of here.
The last thing the man remembered was Jessica turning vicious & using his new first edition copy of Grimm's Fairytales to knock him unconscious. Fucking bitch, he thought to himself as he wiggled his hands, checking the rope's security. & as he expected, they were hardly anything he couldn't escape from.
"Obviously this Jessica is lacking in the smarts department," he muttered as he twisted his wrists, wriggling free from the chaffing rope. He left his gun in his jeans, not wanting to show his hand when the bad guy wasn't even around & could quite possibly sneak up on him.
Wandering around the twilight room, he found nothing of interest, nothing to reveal how Jessica was here (altar, runes, etc.) or even why. But then again, this was Template, & ultimately nothing made sense here. There never seemed to be a logical explanation behind anything around here.
Which might explain why there was no obvious door or window to escape from. In fact, the more he thought about it, things were rather slimy looking, & there was a foul odor in the air. He smacked his forehead with an open palm, feeling like an idiot. Of course there was no exit; he was in the damn sewers -- again.
Swearing under his breath, he started moving toward the spot where he had felt a bit of a breeze, hoping that maybe there was a panel or stone door he had missed. & yup, there it was, covered in God knows what. "Fantastic," he sighed, biting his lip in disgust as his hands sank into the goo, pushing hard on the door. It gave after a minute of resistance, the stones grinding & groaning as they scraped against each other. & fancy that, on the other side, more ooze & sludge, but thankfully light shone down from the occasion grate. All he had to do was find a manhole & he was home free.
"Where do you think you're going?" Jessica purred in his ear, startling him off balance. She caught his arm before he fell on his face into the greenish gunk that coated the floor, pulling him upright with little trouble. Definitely stronger than she had been while living, that was for sure. Before he had a chance to reply, she socked him in the eye, his head snapping back with a sickening crack. Her nails sunk into his arm to keep him standing, dragging down the bare skin & leaving nasty gashes in their wake.
He cried out, his face twisting in pain as his nerves seared & screamed at his brain to get the fuck out of there. Reaching behind him with his free hand, he grabbed the handgun from his waistband, cocking it with a flick of his thumb, his finger already on the trigger as he whipped it up in between him & the apparition that claimed to be his dead ex-girlfriend.
As much as Sam wanted to use a snarky one-liner à la Dean, but every single one that came to mind fell short of what he really wanted to say. So instead he said nothing as he pulled the trigger, the barrel of the gun shoved right in "Jessica's" face. Whatever she had been, rock salt did the trick, her face exploded into a million pieces. With her head no longer intact, the rest of her body crumbled to the slimy floor, leaving only a few flecks of dust to show she had ever been there at all.
With a soft exhale, he returned the gun to its resting place at the small of his back. Even here, the creepy crawlies still had it out for him. He shook his head, wishing he could have asked what she was doing here, what she was, & what she wanted from him. But whatever she had been obviously didn't want to talk, she really just wanted to tear him apart & watch him bleed.
"Fuck it," he sighed, dragging a hand through his tangled hair, still wondering how long he had been underground. His hair felt greasy, like he had been on the road for three or four days without a shower. He shuddered, not really wanting to know.
Looking around, Sam saw a ladder further down the tunnel, which undoubtedly led to a manhole, & oh yes, the surface. He sprinted to the ladder, fighting to keep his balance on the slick floor, his hands clutching desperately at the half-rusted metal as he started to climb to sweet, sweet freedom.