Contact 10/36
I figured since I said in my Sweet Charity description that you could find examples of my stories here, that I oughta actually, you know, put some of those stories here. So I'm making good on my threat of months back to move the rest of my stories over from ff.net. This isn't new. (And I have not abandoned An Ancient Pitch.)
Title: Contact 10/36
Author: Deanish
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,000 / 60,700 words
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam/Jess (but I'd still say it's more gen than het)
Summary: A 'what might have been.' What if the demon had stayed in hibernation for just a little longer?
Chapter 10
“Samsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsam…”
Sam woke up to the most annoying sound he could remember ever hearing. It brought back memories of the endless road trip that was his childhood, and chants of “not touching, can’t get mad; not touching, can’t get mad.”
He groaned miserably at the realization that he’d somehow ended up back in the stuffy rear seat of the Impala, crammed between the weapons and the supplies, and carsick from trying to finish the latest Hardy Boys book while driving.
Miraculously, however, at his groan the noise seemed to stop. Experimentally, he groaned again - perhaps it also had the power to banish the nausea and miscellaneous cramps brought on by his constricted position.
No such luck. Still, he’d take what he could get.
“Sam?”
Oh God, no. Was it starting again?
“Sam? You awake?”
‘I’m not falling for that one,’ he thought.
“Come on, Sam. You gotta wake up, man. He could be back any time.”
Wait. What?
Slowly, reality began to shift back into focus. And Sam began to wish he was back in the Impala after all.
“Samsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsam…”
Well, maybe not.
“For the love of all that is holy, shut up,” he croaked out, weakly. “What happened to your gag?”
Dean snickered.
“So you are awake,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Works every time.”
“Works every time you want to drive me to violence, that is,” Sam corrected as he finally summoned the strength to open his eyes. He was back where he’d started only a few hours ago: tied to a post in the St. Louis sewer.
How, how, HOW could this be happening to him?
“Yeah, well. Violence isn’t such a bad idea,” Dean was saying. His voice was coming from somewhere behind Sam, and Sam cautiously attempted to turn around.
Yup. Definitely the real Dean. Unless, for some reason, the real Dean had managed to get the upper hand but decided to leave Sam tied up with the shapeshifter. Unlikely, but - as Sam’s road trip memories reminded him - not completely out of character.
Still, he decided to take his chances.
“Where’s he at?”
“Who? The sexiest mutant alive? I’m not sure. He left awhile back, but forgot to give me a rundown of his itinerary. He is so grounded when he gets home.”
Sam groaned again. He’d forgotten how Dean always kicked into comedic overdrive when things weren’t going well.
“How close are you to sawing through your ropes?” he asked, rather than acknowledge the weak jokes.
“Well,” Dean said, slightly more seriously. “Before y’all showed up, I figure I was about a quarter of the way through. But Blinky there reinforced them before he left. Now I’m back at square one.”
“Blinky?”
“Yeah. His eyes do something weird when he blinks. That’s how I finally figured out he wasn’t you. Didn’t help, though. He’s obviously been working out more than you.”
“Yeah, I got that. But I never saw the blinking thing. I … had no idea it wasn’t you. Man - he totally fooled me.”
Sam shook his head in self contempt. How could he have not realized that wasn’t his brother?
“Eh, don’t beat yourself up too much. I knew there was a shapeshifter walking around looking like you, and I still didn’t catch on. Dude, whatever he is, it’s more than just looks. He recognized me before I saw him. And he knew everything about you. Enough to act like you and pass all my identity tests.”
Sam shivered involuntarily. The idea made his skin crawl. He felt dirty - it was like knowing someone else had used his toothbrush.
“Well,” he pushed the thought aside, “any idea what happens next?”
“I’ll race you to see who can get out of their ropes fastest,” Dean said.
“That’s not fair - you have a head start.”
“What you want me to stop and wait while you catch up? You wouldn’t win, anyway.”
“Jerkwad,” was the only reply Sam could come up with. But he started working, nonetheless.
They had been at it for about 20 minutes when they heard footsteps approaching. They both froze as Dean’s double sauntered into view. His face was expressionless, and his eyes were remote in a way that Dean’s never were.
He surveyed them both for a moment before walking toward Dean. Sam strained to see what he was going to do, but the shapeshifter just stood there, smirking down at the real Dean.
“See something you like?” Dean quipped. “Because, you know, I could recommend a few good mirrors - they’d do the job just as well, but require less care and feeding.”
The shapeshifter responded by launching a sharp kick at Dean’s torso. While Dean was hunched over panting, the mutant pulled out a pair of handcuffs and bent forward to attach them.
Sam screwed his eyes shut. That was going to make things a lot harder.
By the time he opened them again, the shapeshifter had Dean’s gag back in place and was making his way toward Sam. Sam braced for a kick, but it never came.
Confused, he looked up at the Dean-look-alike towering over him. The look of utter loathing on the familiar face was disturbing at a basic level. How had he ever mistaken this monster for his brother, he asked himself again.
Apparently Sam’s attention was all the thing had been waiting for. The kick was swift and debilitating. But the attack didn’t stop there. When Sam lurched forward, instinctively attempting to protect his stomach, the shapeshifter grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair and rammed his head back into the post.
“How many times have I tried to convince you to cut that hair?” he asked in Dean’s voice. “You should listen to me more often, little brother.”
He punctuated the statement with another slam of Sam’s head. It was all Sam could do to hold back a groan. He shut his eyes, trying to make the stars disappear. But when he opened them again, the stars had been replaced by an enormous knife.
He could hear Dean behind him, yelling indecipherable threats around his gag.
“You’re going to regret that,” the shapeshifter told Sam. “You’re going to wish you had appreciated me more.”
Chapter 11
Title: Contact 10/36
Author: Deanish
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,000 / 60,700 words
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam/Jess (but I'd still say it's more gen than het)
Summary: A 'what might have been.' What if the demon had stayed in hibernation for just a little longer?
Chapter 10
“Samsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsam…”
Sam woke up to the most annoying sound he could remember ever hearing. It brought back memories of the endless road trip that was his childhood, and chants of “not touching, can’t get mad; not touching, can’t get mad.”
He groaned miserably at the realization that he’d somehow ended up back in the stuffy rear seat of the Impala, crammed between the weapons and the supplies, and carsick from trying to finish the latest Hardy Boys book while driving.
Miraculously, however, at his groan the noise seemed to stop. Experimentally, he groaned again - perhaps it also had the power to banish the nausea and miscellaneous cramps brought on by his constricted position.
No such luck. Still, he’d take what he could get.
“Sam?”
Oh God, no. Was it starting again?
“Sam? You awake?”
‘I’m not falling for that one,’ he thought.
“Come on, Sam. You gotta wake up, man. He could be back any time.”
Wait. What?
Slowly, reality began to shift back into focus. And Sam began to wish he was back in the Impala after all.
“Samsamsamsamsamsamsamsamsam…”
Well, maybe not.
“For the love of all that is holy, shut up,” he croaked out, weakly. “What happened to your gag?”
Dean snickered.
“So you are awake,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Works every time.”
“Works every time you want to drive me to violence, that is,” Sam corrected as he finally summoned the strength to open his eyes. He was back where he’d started only a few hours ago: tied to a post in the St. Louis sewer.
How, how, HOW could this be happening to him?
“Yeah, well. Violence isn’t such a bad idea,” Dean was saying. His voice was coming from somewhere behind Sam, and Sam cautiously attempted to turn around.
Yup. Definitely the real Dean. Unless, for some reason, the real Dean had managed to get the upper hand but decided to leave Sam tied up with the shapeshifter. Unlikely, but - as Sam’s road trip memories reminded him - not completely out of character.
Still, he decided to take his chances.
“Where’s he at?”
“Who? The sexiest mutant alive? I’m not sure. He left awhile back, but forgot to give me a rundown of his itinerary. He is so grounded when he gets home.”
Sam groaned again. He’d forgotten how Dean always kicked into comedic overdrive when things weren’t going well.
“How close are you to sawing through your ropes?” he asked, rather than acknowledge the weak jokes.
“Well,” Dean said, slightly more seriously. “Before y’all showed up, I figure I was about a quarter of the way through. But Blinky there reinforced them before he left. Now I’m back at square one.”
“Blinky?”
“Yeah. His eyes do something weird when he blinks. That’s how I finally figured out he wasn’t you. Didn’t help, though. He’s obviously been working out more than you.”
“Yeah, I got that. But I never saw the blinking thing. I … had no idea it wasn’t you. Man - he totally fooled me.”
Sam shook his head in self contempt. How could he have not realized that wasn’t his brother?
“Eh, don’t beat yourself up too much. I knew there was a shapeshifter walking around looking like you, and I still didn’t catch on. Dude, whatever he is, it’s more than just looks. He recognized me before I saw him. And he knew everything about you. Enough to act like you and pass all my identity tests.”
Sam shivered involuntarily. The idea made his skin crawl. He felt dirty - it was like knowing someone else had used his toothbrush.
“Well,” he pushed the thought aside, “any idea what happens next?”
“I’ll race you to see who can get out of their ropes fastest,” Dean said.
“That’s not fair - you have a head start.”
“What you want me to stop and wait while you catch up? You wouldn’t win, anyway.”
“Jerkwad,” was the only reply Sam could come up with. But he started working, nonetheless.
They had been at it for about 20 minutes when they heard footsteps approaching. They both froze as Dean’s double sauntered into view. His face was expressionless, and his eyes were remote in a way that Dean’s never were.
He surveyed them both for a moment before walking toward Dean. Sam strained to see what he was going to do, but the shapeshifter just stood there, smirking down at the real Dean.
“See something you like?” Dean quipped. “Because, you know, I could recommend a few good mirrors - they’d do the job just as well, but require less care and feeding.”
The shapeshifter responded by launching a sharp kick at Dean’s torso. While Dean was hunched over panting, the mutant pulled out a pair of handcuffs and bent forward to attach them.
Sam screwed his eyes shut. That was going to make things a lot harder.
By the time he opened them again, the shapeshifter had Dean’s gag back in place and was making his way toward Sam. Sam braced for a kick, but it never came.
Confused, he looked up at the Dean-look-alike towering over him. The look of utter loathing on the familiar face was disturbing at a basic level. How had he ever mistaken this monster for his brother, he asked himself again.
Apparently Sam’s attention was all the thing had been waiting for. The kick was swift and debilitating. But the attack didn’t stop there. When Sam lurched forward, instinctively attempting to protect his stomach, the shapeshifter grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair and rammed his head back into the post.
“How many times have I tried to convince you to cut that hair?” he asked in Dean’s voice. “You should listen to me more often, little brother.”
He punctuated the statement with another slam of Sam’s head. It was all Sam could do to hold back a groan. He shut his eyes, trying to make the stars disappear. But when he opened them again, the stars had been replaced by an enormous knife.
He could hear Dean behind him, yelling indecipherable threats around his gag.
“You’re going to regret that,” the shapeshifter told Sam. “You’re going to wish you had appreciated me more.”
Chapter 11