you make the bed, light the light [lady mercy won't be home tonight]
Then Dean died, and everything changed.
Personally, he was glad it was finally over. He hadn’t felt the same since he was brought back. He’d kept up appearances for Dean’s sake, but Dean wasn’t around all the time. He had to sleep sometime, and Sam knew how to sneak around. He was careful too-salt and burned the remains, put them to rest just like a good hunter should. Most of his victims would probably never be found, and that was the important thing. He found it oddly amusing that Hendrickson thought that Dean was the crazy one for all that time, and in the meantime, he had a real mass murderer right under his nose.
They were all the same. Blond and beautiful and innocent. Just like Jess. He’d say just like his mother, but he’d learned long ago that that wasn’t necessarily the case. Mary knew the demon that did this to him, that made him what he was, and on one hand, while he knew that he should be grateful-it wasn’t that he was unhappy with the way he was. He was just-well, some advance warning would have been nice. It would have saved some of the struggle, saved some of the time, maybe even saved Azazel some work. Either way, Jess died because she didn’t say anything, and right before they left each town, someone else died to cement the point.
After Dean had died, however, there was no need to hold up the façade anymore. No need to pretend to be focusing on saving his brother. In fact, Lilith had made him quite the offer he couldn’t refuse. They’d become quite the team over the past few months, and he even convinced her to keep the blond, grown-up body she’d stolen from Ruby. Lilith became the partner that Dean never was-someone who encouraged what he was, rather than diminished it, who made him stronger rather than holding him back. That had been what he’d needed all along, and all it took was his brother selling his sorry excuse for a soul, and Sam was back in business.
It had been three moths since Dean had died, and frankly-Sam couldn’t have been happier. He finally had the road to himself, an open highway of people and places for him to leave his mark. Dozens of girls for him to choose from, all anonymous by the time he was done with them, all being punished for whatever sins they had committed-or maybe for not having enough. The world was going to hell in a hand basket, after all. Might as well get on the train and go with it.
The blood on his hands was starting to dry, getting sticky and stiff from being in one place for too long. This girl had no fight in her. She begged for him to let her live through most of it, but in the end she just caved and begged him to just kill her instead. It was slightly disappointing, but if it was what she wanted, he wasn’t going to deny her. One quick slice to the throat and it was done, leaving the girl in a rotting heap in a chair. It was where she belonged anyway-waste of space.
Now, all that was left was to clean up.
He started to make his way about the room, getting ready to prepare the body for disposal and clean up what was left of the scene, when he felt the presence of someone over his shoulder. He almost groaned-a witness. Just what he needed, another body to clean up-but when he turned around, he had a whole other kind of surprise. Who he saw there really was the last face he had expected to see.
“Dean,” he said, studying the vision of his brother in front of him. It wasn’t a demon, not even close, and for all intents and purposes, he could tell he was human. At least, mostly. In fact, there was something about his brother right then that made Sam want to shy away-run away-as fast as he fucking could, and he did not like that feeling. But he had to say something, at least until he figured out whether this was real or not. Some small part of him was really hoping that it wasn’t.
“Well,” he paused, “this is awkward.”
736 words
Personally, he was glad it was finally over. He hadn’t felt the same since he was brought back. He’d kept up appearances for Dean’s sake, but Dean wasn’t around all the time. He had to sleep sometime, and Sam knew how to sneak around. He was careful too-salt and burned the remains, put them to rest just like a good hunter should. Most of his victims would probably never be found, and that was the important thing. He found it oddly amusing that Hendrickson thought that Dean was the crazy one for all that time, and in the meantime, he had a real mass murderer right under his nose.
They were all the same. Blond and beautiful and innocent. Just like Jess. He’d say just like his mother, but he’d learned long ago that that wasn’t necessarily the case. Mary knew the demon that did this to him, that made him what he was, and on one hand, while he knew that he should be grateful-it wasn’t that he was unhappy with the way he was. He was just-well, some advance warning would have been nice. It would have saved some of the struggle, saved some of the time, maybe even saved Azazel some work. Either way, Jess died because she didn’t say anything, and right before they left each town, someone else died to cement the point.
After Dean had died, however, there was no need to hold up the façade anymore. No need to pretend to be focusing on saving his brother. In fact, Lilith had made him quite the offer he couldn’t refuse. They’d become quite the team over the past few months, and he even convinced her to keep the blond, grown-up body she’d stolen from Ruby. Lilith became the partner that Dean never was-someone who encouraged what he was, rather than diminished it, who made him stronger rather than holding him back. That had been what he’d needed all along, and all it took was his brother selling his sorry excuse for a soul, and Sam was back in business.
It had been three moths since Dean had died, and frankly-Sam couldn’t have been happier. He finally had the road to himself, an open highway of people and places for him to leave his mark. Dozens of girls for him to choose from, all anonymous by the time he was done with them, all being punished for whatever sins they had committed-or maybe for not having enough. The world was going to hell in a hand basket, after all. Might as well get on the train and go with it.
The blood on his hands was starting to dry, getting sticky and stiff from being in one place for too long. This girl had no fight in her. She begged for him to let her live through most of it, but in the end she just caved and begged him to just kill her instead. It was slightly disappointing, but if it was what she wanted, he wasn’t going to deny her. One quick slice to the throat and it was done, leaving the girl in a rotting heap in a chair. It was where she belonged anyway-waste of space.
Now, all that was left was to clean up.
He started to make his way about the room, getting ready to prepare the body for disposal and clean up what was left of the scene, when he felt the presence of someone over his shoulder. He almost groaned-a witness. Just what he needed, another body to clean up-but when he turned around, he had a whole other kind of surprise. Who he saw there really was the last face he had expected to see.
“Dean,” he said, studying the vision of his brother in front of him. It wasn’t a demon, not even close, and for all intents and purposes, he could tell he was human. At least, mostly. In fact, there was something about his brother right then that made Sam want to shy away-run away-as fast as he fucking could, and he did not like that feeling. But he had to say something, at least until he figured out whether this was real or not. Some small part of him was really hoping that it wasn’t.
“Well,” he paused, “this is awkward.”
736 words