"The Next Job on the List", Supernatural, PG, gen.
Title: The Next Job on the List
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG for language, no known triggers.
Length: About 1800 words.
Characters/pairings: Sam, Dean.
Spoilers: Season four through the finale.
Summary: Maybe this isn't their everyday hunt, but then, Sam isn't your everyday guy. Except when he is.
Notes: This is this year's birthday present for my mom (last year's was “ January, May, and June (or, Three Birthdays)”). Extended notes are after the story due to their spoilery nature.
The Next Job on the List
Maybe it was just Sam, but it felt like he and Dean always traveled under cloudy skies. That's why it was so startling to hit Nevada; the place seemed allergic to gloom. And warm, at least in the south. Carson City was covered in enough snow to blanket the hills, if not enough to make the roads tricky. But as they traveled east, and then south, the land changed from white to brown, and warm sunlight streamed in the windows.
"So where is this place?" Sam asked, taking off his jacket.
Dean's eyes flashed to the road map on the dash. "Tonopah."
"Never heard of it."
"Bobby said Rufus--"
"Seriously, Rufus?"
"Yeah. Rufus caught a hint of the trail outside Vegas, near Indian Springs, said he was heading north."
Sam scowled. "But I thought he was in Wisconsin last."
"Doesn't mean he has to follow a road, does it?" Dean bounced his hand on the steering wheel. "Bobby checked into it and said the signs were clumping over Tonopah."
"Tonopah." Sam pulled the map down and skimmed his finger over the words of the towns north of Las Vegas: Indian Springs, Beatty, Goldfield...Tonopah. They had passed Hawthorne not too long ago, and it didn't seem to be far. He inspected the main roads around Tonopah and said, "Huh."
"What?"
"It's a junction for 6 and 95."
"So?"
Sam tilted the map in Dean's direction and made exaggerated gestures so Dean could see out of the corner of his eye. "6 goes east-west, and 95 goes south down from 6. But a few miles out, over here, 376 branches north. Looks almost like..."
"...a crossroads," Dean finished, flicking his eyes back and forth. They were driving in a straight line, so he could get away with looking. "But it's not."
Sam shrugged. "Not a traditional one, no. But who knows what actually counts as a crossroads?"
"Uh, two roads hitting each other?"
"To us, yeah. But the rules that go with crossroads...they might work for demons even if it's not a strict crossroads."
"So, say it does work as a crossroads," Dean said. "What's that mean here?"
Sam shook his head. "I wish I knew."
-
The answer was clear the minute Tonopah came into view.
A column of black stretched parallel to the ground, covering what Sam assumed was the town. He didn't ask Dean if he saw it too; Dean pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine immediately.
"What is this?"
Sam twitched. "If I had to guess..."
"A guess would be great."
"Demons."
Dean swallowed hard. "We can't take this many."
“Can anybody?”
Sam met Dean's eyes. Dean was shaking his head slightly, and he didn't stop when he broke Sam's gaze moments later.
"Damn it," he said, opening his door.
Sam followed suit and walked to the back of the car. Dean slammed his door, kicked his feet in the dirt, then slouched next to Sam. After he turned the keys in the lock and lifted the lid of the trunk, Sam propped up the false bottom on a shotgun. Dean rummaged through the weapons, but after a minute, he threw up his hands.
"I don't know." Dean leaned around the side of the car and glanced back at the column, his head tilting up as he searched for the end of it. "Did you see how many people are in town?"
"No."
"Me neither. Probably hundreds of people in there, too."
Sam nodded. "The inhabitants, any drivers caught going through, other drivers too stupid to stop..."
"Any ideas?"
"Me?" Sam didn't want to answer, but there wasn't much choice. "Yeah, I have an idea."
Dean turned toward him. "Oh no."
"No what?"
"I can tell by your voice...no."
"Dean, what other choice do we have?"
"We could try an exorcism."
"With what?" Sam ran a hand through his hair. "They aren't trapped in a building with speakers."
Dean walked in a small circle. "It could make them leave."
"Or it could make them attack us."
"Because your mind stuff wouldn't?"
Sam shook his head. "I could hold them off."
"This many? It would kill you. Doesn't that mean anything?"
Instead of answering, Sam reached in and grabbed his usual pistol and popped the clip. When he was satisfied it was full, he grabbed a couple of backups and stuffed them in his jacket.
"Come on, Sam!"
Sam glared at Dean, rounded the car, and started jogging toward the black dome. Both of his hands wrapped around the handle of the gun, and he tilted the barrel pointed to the ground. He could hear the creaking of the trunk and the crunch of gravel behind him and sighed, but didn't stop. Trying to convince Dean to stay behind would be useless.
He crossed the threshold into the black without hesitating. Immediately, he stopped seeing his hands in front of him, much less the road under his feet. He slowed to a near crawl. As he slid a foot in front of him to check for obstacles, he felt the demons brush across his face and his skin grow warm.
"You in here somewhere?" Dean asked. His voice was quiet, probably on purpose, and muffled, probably because of how full the air was. But Sam could still hear him, so he had to be close.
Sam opened his mouth to answer, but the air that rushed in scratched his throat. He coughed out a "Yeah."
"What's wrong?"
"You don't feel it?" His voice was strangled.
He heard Dean clear his throat. "You think it's the tattoos?"
Sam stopped walking and considered. He'd never considered that demons could or would try to possess him even with the warding tattoo. "Probably."
"Let's go back."
It took Sam a moment to remember Dean couldn't see him shaking his head. "You go."
Dean grumbled, but Sam didn't hear him move. He turned his thoughts to the task at hand.
There was a good chance he could scatter all the demons. It wouldn't take much. What he was shakier on was keeping the demons away. For a minute, he wished he had the power to destroy them all, here and now, but trying was a quick way to fry his brain. His only real option was to banish as many of them as possible.
Sam closed his eyes and drew a breath through his teeth. He didn't cough.
The demons pressed against his skin, and he let them. The warmth on his skin increased until it became a burning, and before long, he was on fire from scalp to soles. He gasped.
"You okay? Sammy?"
Sam couldn't answer. His skin flamed, and at the same time, each heartbeat made him more euphoric. It was something he'd experienced on a smaller level before - he and Dean had cleaned out pockets of demons a few different times since Lucifer's rise - but this many...he wasn't sure he could build the power long enough.
The point where he felt the world around him fading was the point he let go. He swayed and worried for a heartbeat what he'd raised wouldn't be enough. But as the demons pushed away from him, he sensed the power reaching out, bouncing off each individual demon and growing. By the time it had covered the whole town, Sam sensed every possessed person in town, every building, practically every pebble in the road.
Dean, in particular, seemed to shine with an inner light, and it wasn't because he had any special power. He was just the only guy in town without a demon or two riding him. Sam marveled at it and thanked whatever luck he had that no angels were around.
When he figured he'd hooked into every demon in town, he rolled his fingers and clenched a tight fist. The power sprang back, and with it, the demons were compressed down into Hell. All the roiling black sank into the ground, foot by foot, and Sam jerked backward as the rebounding energy slammed into him.
The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was the blue sky and Dean's wide eyes over him.
-
Sam's eyes were open when he came back to himself. All he could see was blank ceiling. He tried letting his lids fall and immediately regretted it. His eyes felt as dry as Death Valley.
"Took you long enough," Dean said.
Sam groaned. "How long was I out?"
"Two days. You know how much it sucks to be in a nowhere town for two days?"
"Sorry," Sam said. But he smiled, since Dean sounded so pleased.
"No big deal. At least your eyes...at least you're awake."
His eyes? Oh boy. They must have gone completely black. All Sam could do was wish they hadn't been that way for long, since he knew Dean wouldn't tell him even if he asked.
Sam's eyes filled with water, and he sat up and rubbed at them. He heard a noise and felt a tissue against his hand. He grabbed it, blotted away the tears dripping from his eyes, and looked at Dean. He was sitting on the queen across from Sam on the most hideous bedspread he had ever seen. There were...balloons? Yeah, balloons, and confetti, and pies. Weird.
And the headboard...shit.
He jumped onto the floor, and Dean snickered.
"What--" Sam put a hand to his chest, felt his heart pounding.
Dean held out his hands. "Welcome to the Clown Motel."
"There aren't any other motels?"
"Sure." Dean grinned and rapped a knuckle on his own clown headboard. "But none with this sort of ambiance."
"You stayed here for two days?" Sam's voice cracked despite his best attempts to keep it low. He'd slept on a bed with a clown headboard. For days.
And he'd thought demons were horrifying.
"Should have taken me up on Circus Circus," Dean said. "The rooms weren't half this good."
Sam shivered. "Tell me we got another sniff of Lucifer. We have to leave, right?"
"Car's sounding funny, and Bobby's got nothing worth rushing. Sorry, kiddo."
Sam put his head in his hands. The car was probably going to sound funny for at least a couple of days, knowing Dean.
There was only one thing to do.
He grabbed a pillow and slammed it as hard as he could in Dean's face, ignoring the protests of the muscles in his arms. Dean fell back and grabbed a pillow of his own.
Sam laughed even as he took a mouthful of cotton. Even with clowns, things could be a helluva lot worse.
Extended notes: There really is a Clown Motel in Tonopah. I don't know what the interior looks like, so I decided to take elements of what I've heard about Circus Circus in Las Vegas and Reno and combined it with that clown bed from The Simpsons. (Seriously. If you have a clown/circus phobia, do not stay at the Circus Circus in Las Vegas. But I suppose that's pretty obvious.)
My mom asked for Dean taking Sam to the Clown Motel. My intention was to write just that, but for some reason, I started with the two of them on the road, and it felt like there needed to be a conflict that would lead them to Tonopah, and this is where it ended up. It might be because I've been writing other stories where Sam and Dean have to deal with the after-effects of the demon blood addiction and their own fractured relationship, but I liked the thought that were doing just another job, that Lucifer's presence on Earth is a given, and that Sam could use his powers for good. I'm not sure Dean'll ever be completely comfortable with it, especially when if it takes a heavy physical toll, but this was as happy as I could get in a post-season four story that was somewhat compliant with canon.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG for language, no known triggers.
Length: About 1800 words.
Characters/pairings: Sam, Dean.
Spoilers: Season four through the finale.
Summary: Maybe this isn't their everyday hunt, but then, Sam isn't your everyday guy. Except when he is.
Notes: This is this year's birthday present for my mom (last year's was “ January, May, and June (or, Three Birthdays)”). Extended notes are after the story due to their spoilery nature.
The Next Job on the List
Maybe it was just Sam, but it felt like he and Dean always traveled under cloudy skies. That's why it was so startling to hit Nevada; the place seemed allergic to gloom. And warm, at least in the south. Carson City was covered in enough snow to blanket the hills, if not enough to make the roads tricky. But as they traveled east, and then south, the land changed from white to brown, and warm sunlight streamed in the windows.
"So where is this place?" Sam asked, taking off his jacket.
Dean's eyes flashed to the road map on the dash. "Tonopah."
"Never heard of it."
"Bobby said Rufus--"
"Seriously, Rufus?"
"Yeah. Rufus caught a hint of the trail outside Vegas, near Indian Springs, said he was heading north."
Sam scowled. "But I thought he was in Wisconsin last."
"Doesn't mean he has to follow a road, does it?" Dean bounced his hand on the steering wheel. "Bobby checked into it and said the signs were clumping over Tonopah."
"Tonopah." Sam pulled the map down and skimmed his finger over the words of the towns north of Las Vegas: Indian Springs, Beatty, Goldfield...Tonopah. They had passed Hawthorne not too long ago, and it didn't seem to be far. He inspected the main roads around Tonopah and said, "Huh."
"What?"
"It's a junction for 6 and 95."
"So?"
Sam tilted the map in Dean's direction and made exaggerated gestures so Dean could see out of the corner of his eye. "6 goes east-west, and 95 goes south down from 6. But a few miles out, over here, 376 branches north. Looks almost like..."
"...a crossroads," Dean finished, flicking his eyes back and forth. They were driving in a straight line, so he could get away with looking. "But it's not."
Sam shrugged. "Not a traditional one, no. But who knows what actually counts as a crossroads?"
"Uh, two roads hitting each other?"
"To us, yeah. But the rules that go with crossroads...they might work for demons even if it's not a strict crossroads."
"So, say it does work as a crossroads," Dean said. "What's that mean here?"
Sam shook his head. "I wish I knew."
-
The answer was clear the minute Tonopah came into view.
A column of black stretched parallel to the ground, covering what Sam assumed was the town. He didn't ask Dean if he saw it too; Dean pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine immediately.
"What is this?"
Sam twitched. "If I had to guess..."
"A guess would be great."
"Demons."
Dean swallowed hard. "We can't take this many."
“Can anybody?”
Sam met Dean's eyes. Dean was shaking his head slightly, and he didn't stop when he broke Sam's gaze moments later.
"Damn it," he said, opening his door.
Sam followed suit and walked to the back of the car. Dean slammed his door, kicked his feet in the dirt, then slouched next to Sam. After he turned the keys in the lock and lifted the lid of the trunk, Sam propped up the false bottom on a shotgun. Dean rummaged through the weapons, but after a minute, he threw up his hands.
"I don't know." Dean leaned around the side of the car and glanced back at the column, his head tilting up as he searched for the end of it. "Did you see how many people are in town?"
"No."
"Me neither. Probably hundreds of people in there, too."
Sam nodded. "The inhabitants, any drivers caught going through, other drivers too stupid to stop..."
"Any ideas?"
"Me?" Sam didn't want to answer, but there wasn't much choice. "Yeah, I have an idea."
Dean turned toward him. "Oh no."
"No what?"
"I can tell by your voice...no."
"Dean, what other choice do we have?"
"We could try an exorcism."
"With what?" Sam ran a hand through his hair. "They aren't trapped in a building with speakers."
Dean walked in a small circle. "It could make them leave."
"Or it could make them attack us."
"Because your mind stuff wouldn't?"
Sam shook his head. "I could hold them off."
"This many? It would kill you. Doesn't that mean anything?"
Instead of answering, Sam reached in and grabbed his usual pistol and popped the clip. When he was satisfied it was full, he grabbed a couple of backups and stuffed them in his jacket.
"Come on, Sam!"
Sam glared at Dean, rounded the car, and started jogging toward the black dome. Both of his hands wrapped around the handle of the gun, and he tilted the barrel pointed to the ground. He could hear the creaking of the trunk and the crunch of gravel behind him and sighed, but didn't stop. Trying to convince Dean to stay behind would be useless.
He crossed the threshold into the black without hesitating. Immediately, he stopped seeing his hands in front of him, much less the road under his feet. He slowed to a near crawl. As he slid a foot in front of him to check for obstacles, he felt the demons brush across his face and his skin grow warm.
"You in here somewhere?" Dean asked. His voice was quiet, probably on purpose, and muffled, probably because of how full the air was. But Sam could still hear him, so he had to be close.
Sam opened his mouth to answer, but the air that rushed in scratched his throat. He coughed out a "Yeah."
"What's wrong?"
"You don't feel it?" His voice was strangled.
He heard Dean clear his throat. "You think it's the tattoos?"
Sam stopped walking and considered. He'd never considered that demons could or would try to possess him even with the warding tattoo. "Probably."
"Let's go back."
It took Sam a moment to remember Dean couldn't see him shaking his head. "You go."
Dean grumbled, but Sam didn't hear him move. He turned his thoughts to the task at hand.
There was a good chance he could scatter all the demons. It wouldn't take much. What he was shakier on was keeping the demons away. For a minute, he wished he had the power to destroy them all, here and now, but trying was a quick way to fry his brain. His only real option was to banish as many of them as possible.
Sam closed his eyes and drew a breath through his teeth. He didn't cough.
The demons pressed against his skin, and he let them. The warmth on his skin increased until it became a burning, and before long, he was on fire from scalp to soles. He gasped.
"You okay? Sammy?"
Sam couldn't answer. His skin flamed, and at the same time, each heartbeat made him more euphoric. It was something he'd experienced on a smaller level before - he and Dean had cleaned out pockets of demons a few different times since Lucifer's rise - but this many...he wasn't sure he could build the power long enough.
The point where he felt the world around him fading was the point he let go. He swayed and worried for a heartbeat what he'd raised wouldn't be enough. But as the demons pushed away from him, he sensed the power reaching out, bouncing off each individual demon and growing. By the time it had covered the whole town, Sam sensed every possessed person in town, every building, practically every pebble in the road.
Dean, in particular, seemed to shine with an inner light, and it wasn't because he had any special power. He was just the only guy in town without a demon or two riding him. Sam marveled at it and thanked whatever luck he had that no angels were around.
When he figured he'd hooked into every demon in town, he rolled his fingers and clenched a tight fist. The power sprang back, and with it, the demons were compressed down into Hell. All the roiling black sank into the ground, foot by foot, and Sam jerked backward as the rebounding energy slammed into him.
The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was the blue sky and Dean's wide eyes over him.
-
Sam's eyes were open when he came back to himself. All he could see was blank ceiling. He tried letting his lids fall and immediately regretted it. His eyes felt as dry as Death Valley.
"Took you long enough," Dean said.
Sam groaned. "How long was I out?"
"Two days. You know how much it sucks to be in a nowhere town for two days?"
"Sorry," Sam said. But he smiled, since Dean sounded so pleased.
"No big deal. At least your eyes...at least you're awake."
His eyes? Oh boy. They must have gone completely black. All Sam could do was wish they hadn't been that way for long, since he knew Dean wouldn't tell him even if he asked.
Sam's eyes filled with water, and he sat up and rubbed at them. He heard a noise and felt a tissue against his hand. He grabbed it, blotted away the tears dripping from his eyes, and looked at Dean. He was sitting on the queen across from Sam on the most hideous bedspread he had ever seen. There were...balloons? Yeah, balloons, and confetti, and pies. Weird.
And the headboard...shit.
He jumped onto the floor, and Dean snickered.
"What--" Sam put a hand to his chest, felt his heart pounding.
Dean held out his hands. "Welcome to the Clown Motel."
"There aren't any other motels?"
"Sure." Dean grinned and rapped a knuckle on his own clown headboard. "But none with this sort of ambiance."
"You stayed here for two days?" Sam's voice cracked despite his best attempts to keep it low. He'd slept on a bed with a clown headboard. For days.
And he'd thought demons were horrifying.
"Should have taken me up on Circus Circus," Dean said. "The rooms weren't half this good."
Sam shivered. "Tell me we got another sniff of Lucifer. We have to leave, right?"
"Car's sounding funny, and Bobby's got nothing worth rushing. Sorry, kiddo."
Sam put his head in his hands. The car was probably going to sound funny for at least a couple of days, knowing Dean.
There was only one thing to do.
He grabbed a pillow and slammed it as hard as he could in Dean's face, ignoring the protests of the muscles in his arms. Dean fell back and grabbed a pillow of his own.
Sam laughed even as he took a mouthful of cotton. Even with clowns, things could be a helluva lot worse.
Extended notes: There really is a Clown Motel in Tonopah. I don't know what the interior looks like, so I decided to take elements of what I've heard about Circus Circus in Las Vegas and Reno and combined it with that clown bed from The Simpsons. (Seriously. If you have a clown/circus phobia, do not stay at the Circus Circus in Las Vegas. But I suppose that's pretty obvious.)
My mom asked for Dean taking Sam to the Clown Motel. My intention was to write just that, but for some reason, I started with the two of them on the road, and it felt like there needed to be a conflict that would lead them to Tonopah, and this is where it ended up. It might be because I've been writing other stories where Sam and Dean have to deal with the after-effects of the demon blood addiction and their own fractured relationship, but I liked the thought that were doing just another job, that Lucifer's presence on Earth is a given, and that Sam could use his powers for good. I'm not sure Dean'll ever be completely comfortable with it, especially when if it takes a heavy physical toll, but this was as happy as I could get in a post-season four story that was somewhat compliant with canon.