"Looking For Grey"
Title: Looking For Grey
Rating/Warning: PG
Wordcount: 3,702
Spoilers: References to S2
By: kellifer_fic
Category: SPN/Buffy (Sam, Dean, Oz)
Spoilers: None
Dean had said no.
Actually, Dean had laughed, coughed and then groaned, forehead shiny with fever-sweat and had then said no.
Sam wondered why Dean thought that would make a difference.
“Solo hunts,” Dean had said, holding up an imperious finger but the gravity of his statement had lost something because his hair was matted to his head with sweat. “Are for men. Not giant girly-boys with bad taste in music.”
Sam had said, “Uhuh, sure Dean.” As he’d pushed Dean back and tucked the blankets firmly around him.
“I’m forbidding you,” Dean had rasped, voice trailing into a hoarse whisper as his eyes had slid closed.
“Gotcha,” Sam nodded, grabbing his pack and heading out the door.
000
Sam wasn’t expecting a cage.
The basement floor was hard-packed dirt and the room was split neatly into two by a wall of bars. The space on the other side had some shredded blankets, a trough of water bolted to the wall and a couple of brightly colored chew toys that had seen better days. Sam brushed fingers over the keypad on the door section.
“Can I help you?”
Sam whirled around, clutching the strap of his bag with two hands. He hadn’t had someone sneak up behind him in a long time, not even Dean. Regardless, there was a guy standing at the bottom of the basement stairs, looking eerily calm, mostly just curious. He was shorter than Sam, would probably only come up to his shoulder, with spiky hair and an angular face.
Sam scuffed his feet in the dirt, adopting his aw shucks demeanour that had gotten him out of more sticky situations than he could count but the guy huffed an annoyed sigh before Sam could launch into a viable excuse for being in someone’s basement.
He suspected looking for the bathroom wasn’t going to cut it.
“You know, I don’t hurt anyone or anything. I’m not even sure how you guys keep finding me.”
Sam blinked, feeling at a loss. The guy wasn’t moving from the doorway which was the only way out but he wasn’t exactly trying to look threatening either. Sam had figured he was going to have to fight his way out and then put up with Dean’s ribbing about someone getting the drop on him, but the guy’s demeanour gave him pause.
“You lock yourself up?” Sam hazarded instead, his interest perked. The guy leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and nodded.
“Every month. I don’t even need to change but it helps control it.”
“Control it?” Sam spluttered.
The guy held up a hand, a set of wooden beads wrapped around his wrist and looped over his fingers. “I can skip two, maybe three full moons before it starts getting harder,” he said and now Sam had to admit that he was fascinated.
“Sally makes a killer meatloaf. Why don’t you come up?” The guy invited, canting his head in the direction of the stairs and even though Sam thought he’d probably regret it, he followed.
000
Sally was a woman is her mid-sixties with long grey hair still streaked with black pulled into a loose knot at her nape. She had kind eyes that flooded with worry when the guy appeared in her kitchen with Sam at his shoulder.
“Daniel?” She’s moving towards a fairly impressive knife rack when the guy puts his hands up, palms out.
“It’s fine. He hasn’t attacked me yet so I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.” He looked over his shoulder at Sam and narrowed his eyes. “I’m hoping he’ll extend the same courtesy.”
“I’m really just trying to figure out what’s going on here,” Sam said, tilting his head and widening his eyes in that way that Dean always calls with a disgusted snort, puppydog right before he gives in to whatever Sam is trying to get.
Sally’s face softened a little but there was lingering suspicion in her eyes. “Dinner’s ready. You hungry?”
“Yes ma’am,” Sam nodded and Sally rolled her eyes.
“It’s Sally,” she corrected, waving Sam into a chair.
“I’m Oz,” the guy introduced. “Daniel Osbourne but only Sally calls me Daniel.”
“Sam Winchester,” Sam responded, unsure of the etiquette when meeting the people whose place he’d just broken into.
“You hunt only werewolves or other things as well?” Sally asked out of nowhere and Sam choked on the swallow of water he’d just taken as she set a plate of meatloaf and a bowl of salad on the table.
“Um, other things,” Sam answered, rubbing his streaming eyes on a sleeve. He folded his hands into his lap while Oz stood and sliced off a hunk of meatloaf and set it on Sam’s plate. Salad was next and then Oz served Sally before himself. Sally pulled her chair out and settled with a sigh, eyes never leaving Sam’s face.
“You ever take the time to think that maybe some things aren’t hurtin’ nobody?” she snapped and Sam realised she was fuming. She was just too polite to actually do anything about it other than serve him dinner.
“Actually, yes.” Sam nodded and both Oz and Sally cast glances at each other before turning wary eyes on him. “There were these vampires who were… behaving. Taking blood from cattle rather than people. We let them go. We keep tabs on them when we can but…” Sam left the rest unsaid and he could see some of Sally’s anger easing off.
Oz just looked more curious.
“We?” Oz prodded and Sam bit his lip.
“Yeah, I was working with a guy. I’m not anymore.” He hated to lie, but he really didn’t know anything about the people at the table across from him and he didn’t want Dean exposed when he was weakened. He was also trying to desperately sort things out in his own head. Sam wanted to see grey in the world, it was very important where he was concerned especially that there be grey, but he also wasn’t naïve. He was very aware that he could be being played so that Sally and Oz could find if there were other hunters about before they decided what to do with him.
He’d seen it before.
He poked gingerly at his meatloaf, only taking a bite after Oz did.
000
Sam didn’t head back to the motel straight away, instead looping around and taking back streets, doubling back on himself and also breaking a satchel of ash Missouri had given them on their last visit on his shoulders so if something were tracking him, they’d lose the scent.
Only when he was sure he wasn’t being followed did he risk heading back to the motel.
Dean was completely out when Sam slipped through the door, on his back with his mouth open and the buzz-saw of his snore breaking the late evening quiet. Dean only snored when he was stuffed up, as opposed to Sam who, he had been told by Jess, was like sleeping next to a jackhammer sometimes.
Dean had never mentioned Sam’s snoring, had never complained and Sam felt a ridiculous amount of affection surge through him just for that.
He set his backpack down on his own bed and pulled the carton of orange juice free. Dean snorted, rolled to his side and his eyes slitted open, still bright with fever.
“Where you been?” he grumbled, bringing a hand up and around to fist into his eye like a tired kid.
“Just went to get you some juice and aspirin. I’ve only been gone five minutes,” Sam said and Dean blinked at him blearily.
“Really?” he huffed, trying to untangle his legs from the blankets that had wound around his ankles. He gave up after pawing at them for only a few moments with a defeated groan. “Feels like I’ve been out for hours.”
“Here,” Sam said, bringing a half-cup full of juice into Dean’s line of sight. “Have this and I’ll give you some aspirin.”
“Want coffee,” Dean protested, trying to bat the glass of juice away from his head.
“No coffee, juice,” Sam insisted, using his free hand under Dean’s shoulder to lever him into a half-sit. “Drink.”
“But it’s full of vitamins and crap,” Dean protested weakly, taking the proffered glass anyway. He eyed it like he was expecting it to bite him or start speaking Latin. “I hate juice,” he grumbled but finished it in three swallows under Sam’s glare.
“Now tell me where you were,” Dean said, dry-swallowing the aspirin Sam handed him.
“I told you-”
“Dude, I have the flu, not brain damage. When I closed my eyes it was two in the afternoon. It’s nine o’clock now and it’s dark out.”
“Okay, look, don’t freak out but-”
“Stop right there,” Dean groaned, lying back on the bed and putting an arm over his eyes. “How much am I going to hate this?”
000
“Oh yes, sweet as pie that boy,” Henry Reid said, setting a coffee down in front of Sam.
Sam smiled and leaned forward to snag the mug, feeling a little uneasy. It wasn’t often he was invited into homes when he was working a job and the whole thing was surreal.
“You go talk to the neighbours,” Sally had invited. “You’ll find out nothing so much as a pet has gone missing since Daniel has been here.”
Sam was now at his eighth house and was looking at yet another tranquiliser gun mounted to the wall in the living room. Nancy, Henry’s wife and fellow neighbour of Sally, noticed Sam’s gaze when she bustled in with a plate of biscuits and smiled.
“Oh, Oz insisted that we all take precautions. Henry and I aren’t worried in the least but it eases his mind some to think we’re prepared in case anything happens.”
“He told you?” Sam asked slowly, more than a little bewildered.
“He sat us down and explained everything. It was a little strange at first but what that poor boy has gone through,” Nancy’s eyes misted as she looked at her husband. “And being so upfront. I mean, it’s really more of an affliction than anything else.”
“He’s a werewolf,” Sam said slowly, wondering if perhaps the famous Oz had been playing down that fact but Nancy and Henry scrunched their noses up.
“We don’t like that word,” Henry said. “It’s not good to categorise people just because they’re different.”
Sam sat back, coffee forgotten.
000
“All I can think is that Sally is a witch and you’ve brainwashed the whole neighbourhood.”
Oz and Sam were sitting on Sally’s front steps and Oz chuckled, rubbing hands on the knees of his jeans. Sam felt the crazy urge to touch the wooden beads around Oz’s wrist and he tucked his fists under his legs.
“She can be difficult at times but she’s not a witch,” Oz said. A couple of children on bikes pedalled passed and waved. Oz raised a hand back to them.
“I just feel like I’ve stepped into the twilight zone,” Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’ve gotta understand that this whole thing is a little left of center for me.”
“I would think that everything you do is a little left of center for everyone else,” Oz mused, tipping Sam a half-grin. “I mean, I met a slayer in high school so I understand what you do, but not everyone would.”
“That’s an understatement,” Sam snorted. He supposed that there would be a lot of people that would see him and Dean as dangerous and most of the time, it was just a matter of perspective.
“No one really believes that I’m a werewolf like out of horror stories,” Oz continued. “They play along because they’re kind and they think that I believe it. Sally knows but her husband was bitten and she lived with him for years.”
“What happened?” Sam asked fearing the worst but Oz shrugged.
“Had a stroke when he was fifty-five. Time and tide wait for no man.”
“How’d you find her? I can’t imagine there being support groups.”
“Followed whispers and rumours. People who knew people who knew people. I’d been travelling a while and I just wanted to… stop.”
“I can understand that.” Sam nodded. Oz was looking at him with an unreadable expression, hair burnished gold in the dying light of the day.
“Why’d you lie before?” he asked and Sam blinked at him.
“When?”
“You said you were on your own but I know that’s not true.”
“How?” Sam asked, unable to help the fluttering panic that started up in his chest. This is when it happens he thought as sweat sprung onto his top lip, this is when he tells me that he has sent friends after Dean and he’s really very sorry, but he’s going to have to kill me now.
Oz was smiling, a mild expression like he could tell just what panicked place Sam’s mind had skipped to. He tapped the side of his nose. “You smell like someone else as much as yourself.”
“Oh,” Sam said, feeling vaguely guilty.
“Sorry, I know it’s a little creepy but I can’t really help it. I couldn’t not notice. I can smell sickness.”
“Yeah, it’s…” Sam clenched his fists. “My brother. He has a pretty bad flu.”
“Where is he?”
“Motel,” Sam answered.
“That can’t be fun. If it’s the Blue Lake Motel just outside of town, then that place is a craphole.”
“That’s putting it politely.”
Oz looked at Sam again, something careful about his expression. “You can bring him here,” he said. His hands were up, palms out like he’d been with Sally. Sam thought it must have been Oz’s way of saying no pressure, no threat.
“I couldn’t do that,” Sam said, shaking his head.
“Really. Sally lives to look after people. I actually think she prefers the three nights a month where I’m furry and she needs to care for me.”
“I’m not sure… I don’t think he’d like it.”
“Honestly, think about it. I’m guessing you guys aren’t really the type for hospitals.”
000
“I need my gun!” Dean yelled as soon as Sam was through the door an hour later.
“What? Why?” Sam demanded, feeling adrenalin dump through his system.
“There’s angry squid. They’re out to get me,” Dean said, tone serious and Sam grimaced, taking in his wide eyes and red-flushed face.
“Okay, it might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but we’re getting out of here,” Sam said, crossing to Dean and throwing the covers back.
Dean held out his arms and grinned. “Aeroplane? Please Dad?”
“Christ,” Sam groaned, shoving a shoulder under Dean’s and lifting.
000
“He’s dehydrated but his fever’s broken,” Sally said, coming out of her spare bedroom, wiping hands on a towel slung over her shoulder. “He’s lucid and demanding to know where you are,” she added, turning a smile to Sam.
Sam looked at Oz and then pushed through the bedroom door, seeing Dean sprawled out on the bed with a wet cloth over his forehead.
“Sammy?” Dean sat up, cloth slipping from his face and Sam dropped onto a chair by the bed.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, putting a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. It was still warm but he didn’t feel like a furnace to the touch anymore and Sam let out a sigh of relief.
“Where are we? Who was that woman?”
“Her name’s Sally. We’re going to crash here till you’re well.”
“You know her or something?” Dean asked, dropping the cloth back over his face and lying back.
“Not really. She’s okay though.”
“Are we in the werewolf’s house?” Dean asked slowly.
“It’s Sally’s house, he just stays here.”
“I swear to God Sam-!”
“They’re fine. Her husband was a werewolf and she looked after him for years. Oz is staying here for a while and it all checks out. I’ve been to the library and there have been no unusual, unexplained deaths. If anything this town has a lower mortality rate than normal and nothing supernatural. I think having a werewolf in the center of town actually helps.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“No. A black dog wouldn’t come within miles of this place if it scented a werewolf. Same for a lot of stuff.”
“I just… we can’t start thinking that everything has a reason for being evil.”
“Oz isn’t evil,” Sam snapped. “Something happened to him that wasn’t his fault and he’s dealing with it as best as he can.”
“Sam-”
“No Dean, I don’t know why you have to be so bull-headed about all this. If there’s hope for someone like Oz then…”
Dean pulled the cloth away from his face and sat up slowly, eyeing Sam. “Wow.”
“What?” Sam snapped.
“I mean, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You’re looking for cases like Lenore and Oz on purpose.”
“Dean-”
“No Sam, you are. What? If they’re okay, you’re okay? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“What’s so bad about that?”
“You’re nothing like them!” Dean hissed, thumping a fist down on the bed by his side.
“The hell I’m not!” Sam snapped. “Just because you can’t see that I’m different, doesn’t mean I’m not. I’m not normal and it took me a while to see it. Maybe that’s why I craved a normal life so much, because I could see that I wasn’t.”
“You’re not like them,” Dean ground out. “You’re not a killer.”
“Keep saying it Dean,” Sam said, sounding weary. “Maybe you’ll convince one of us eventually.”
000
“Your brother isn’t exactly open-minded.”
Sam came to a stop at the bottom of the basement stairs, seeing Oz crouched in front of the open door of his cell, shaking out one of the ragged blankets and scrunching up his nose when he took an experimental sniff. “I always thought peeing my bed would be over and done with by now,” Oz said with a chuckle.
“Dean’s just trying to protect me,” Sam said, lowering himself to sit on the bottom step, watching as Oz snagged a couple of the chew toys and tossed them out of the cell.
“From who?”
“Myself mostly,” Sam admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I suspect that’s a bit of an uphill battle.”
“He seems to think so,” Sam agreed, laughing. “I’ve been meaning to ask… chew toys?”
Oz cast a look over his shoulder. “Sally thinks it’s hilarious,” he said.
“When did it happen?” Sam asked, knowing that it was a rare thing to get to actually talk to something they would normally hunt. He could protest whenever Dean called him a geek but deep down he knew his thirst for knowledge pretty much made the label a valid one.
“High school. My cousin Jordy bit me on the finger when he was a baby.”
“You’re kidding,” Sam said, mouth dropping open.
“Wish I was. I’d love to have a more glamorous origin story like in the comics but then, real life isn’t really like that, is it?”
“True.”
“Look, you’re brother isn’t going to ever accept this, and that’s okay.”
“It’s not though. You’re a good guy and you didn’t deserve this.”
“Who does?” Oz shrugged, standing and turning to face Sam. “When fate dealt the cards, I got a crap hand, but then a lot of people can say that. I haven’t hurt anyone and I’ve got a lot of people willing to help me out. Relatively speaking, my life’s pretty okay.”
“But-”
“I don’t need Dean in my corner. I get the feeling there’s something else going on here anyway that I’m not going to pretend to understand. He’s not trying to shoot me full of silver, that’s all I ask.”
“Others will. Hunters will keep coming.”
“I know that. If they find me again, I’ll move on. There are places I can go that no one would ever find me, but I don’t want to live like that. You know?”
“Yeah, I can understand that.”
Oz crossed the room to Sam, hunkering down in front of him and putting his hands on Sam’s knees. “You gotta stop trying to save everyone. It’s going to destroy you.”
“How do you… how do you cope with that thing inside yourself that could destroy everyone you care about?” Sam asked in a hollow whisper and Oz canted his head, eyes serious.
“I wish I had some sterling piece of wisdom for you, Sam, but I don’t. You just gotta live day to day and not let the darkness swallow you.”
000
“I don’t want to see you back here,” Sally said as Dean shouldered passed her onto the front porch.
“Don’t let the door hit me on the way out?” Dean smirked, raising an eyebrow and Sally crossed her arms.
“Maybe if you did it would knock some sense into that thick skull.”
Dean frowned but Sally’s expression had softened when Sam appeared behind her. She looped arms around his neck and dragged him into a hug. “I don’t want to see you either,” she warned but she was smiling and Sam grinned.
Oz was standing down on the curb, set a little way back from the Impala. Dean skirted him, keeping a wary eye on him until he was in the car. Sam stopped at the bottom of the steps, shifting the weight of his duffle.
“You going to move on?” Sam asked.
“You going to say anything?”
“No.”
“Then no,” Oz smiled.
“How long do you think you’ll be able to do this?” Sam asked and Oz shrugged.
“Long as I need to. I haven’t exhausted every avenue yet, may still find a way to undo this.”
“You think?”
“Not really, but you gotta have hope right?”
When Sam slid into the passenger seat, Dean watched him settle and then opened his mouth.
“No more of these, okay? I won’t look for any more of these,” Sam said.
“Maybe-”
“No, you’re right. Finding people like Lenore and Oz don’t make a difference. It’s nice to know they’re there, but this is me. I’m on my own.”
Dean slid the keys into the ignition and the Impala purred to life. “No you’re not,” he said.
Rating/Warning: PG
Wordcount: 3,702
Spoilers: References to S2
By: kellifer_fic
Category: SPN/Buffy (Sam, Dean, Oz)
Spoilers: None
Dean had said no.
Actually, Dean had laughed, coughed and then groaned, forehead shiny with fever-sweat and had then said no.
Sam wondered why Dean thought that would make a difference.
“Solo hunts,” Dean had said, holding up an imperious finger but the gravity of his statement had lost something because his hair was matted to his head with sweat. “Are for men. Not giant girly-boys with bad taste in music.”
Sam had said, “Uhuh, sure Dean.” As he’d pushed Dean back and tucked the blankets firmly around him.
“I’m forbidding you,” Dean had rasped, voice trailing into a hoarse whisper as his eyes had slid closed.
“Gotcha,” Sam nodded, grabbing his pack and heading out the door.
000
Sam wasn’t expecting a cage.
The basement floor was hard-packed dirt and the room was split neatly into two by a wall of bars. The space on the other side had some shredded blankets, a trough of water bolted to the wall and a couple of brightly colored chew toys that had seen better days. Sam brushed fingers over the keypad on the door section.
“Can I help you?”
Sam whirled around, clutching the strap of his bag with two hands. He hadn’t had someone sneak up behind him in a long time, not even Dean. Regardless, there was a guy standing at the bottom of the basement stairs, looking eerily calm, mostly just curious. He was shorter than Sam, would probably only come up to his shoulder, with spiky hair and an angular face.
Sam scuffed his feet in the dirt, adopting his aw shucks demeanour that had gotten him out of more sticky situations than he could count but the guy huffed an annoyed sigh before Sam could launch into a viable excuse for being in someone’s basement.
He suspected looking for the bathroom wasn’t going to cut it.
“You know, I don’t hurt anyone or anything. I’m not even sure how you guys keep finding me.”
Sam blinked, feeling at a loss. The guy wasn’t moving from the doorway which was the only way out but he wasn’t exactly trying to look threatening either. Sam had figured he was going to have to fight his way out and then put up with Dean’s ribbing about someone getting the drop on him, but the guy’s demeanour gave him pause.
“You lock yourself up?” Sam hazarded instead, his interest perked. The guy leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and nodded.
“Every month. I don’t even need to change but it helps control it.”
“Control it?” Sam spluttered.
The guy held up a hand, a set of wooden beads wrapped around his wrist and looped over his fingers. “I can skip two, maybe three full moons before it starts getting harder,” he said and now Sam had to admit that he was fascinated.
“Sally makes a killer meatloaf. Why don’t you come up?” The guy invited, canting his head in the direction of the stairs and even though Sam thought he’d probably regret it, he followed.
000
Sally was a woman is her mid-sixties with long grey hair still streaked with black pulled into a loose knot at her nape. She had kind eyes that flooded with worry when the guy appeared in her kitchen with Sam at his shoulder.
“Daniel?” She’s moving towards a fairly impressive knife rack when the guy puts his hands up, palms out.
“It’s fine. He hasn’t attacked me yet so I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.” He looked over his shoulder at Sam and narrowed his eyes. “I’m hoping he’ll extend the same courtesy.”
“I’m really just trying to figure out what’s going on here,” Sam said, tilting his head and widening his eyes in that way that Dean always calls with a disgusted snort, puppydog right before he gives in to whatever Sam is trying to get.
Sally’s face softened a little but there was lingering suspicion in her eyes. “Dinner’s ready. You hungry?”
“Yes ma’am,” Sam nodded and Sally rolled her eyes.
“It’s Sally,” she corrected, waving Sam into a chair.
“I’m Oz,” the guy introduced. “Daniel Osbourne but only Sally calls me Daniel.”
“Sam Winchester,” Sam responded, unsure of the etiquette when meeting the people whose place he’d just broken into.
“You hunt only werewolves or other things as well?” Sally asked out of nowhere and Sam choked on the swallow of water he’d just taken as she set a plate of meatloaf and a bowl of salad on the table.
“Um, other things,” Sam answered, rubbing his streaming eyes on a sleeve. He folded his hands into his lap while Oz stood and sliced off a hunk of meatloaf and set it on Sam’s plate. Salad was next and then Oz served Sally before himself. Sally pulled her chair out and settled with a sigh, eyes never leaving Sam’s face.
“You ever take the time to think that maybe some things aren’t hurtin’ nobody?” she snapped and Sam realised she was fuming. She was just too polite to actually do anything about it other than serve him dinner.
“Actually, yes.” Sam nodded and both Oz and Sally cast glances at each other before turning wary eyes on him. “There were these vampires who were… behaving. Taking blood from cattle rather than people. We let them go. We keep tabs on them when we can but…” Sam left the rest unsaid and he could see some of Sally’s anger easing off.
Oz just looked more curious.
“We?” Oz prodded and Sam bit his lip.
“Yeah, I was working with a guy. I’m not anymore.” He hated to lie, but he really didn’t know anything about the people at the table across from him and he didn’t want Dean exposed when he was weakened. He was also trying to desperately sort things out in his own head. Sam wanted to see grey in the world, it was very important where he was concerned especially that there be grey, but he also wasn’t naïve. He was very aware that he could be being played so that Sally and Oz could find if there were other hunters about before they decided what to do with him.
He’d seen it before.
He poked gingerly at his meatloaf, only taking a bite after Oz did.
000
Sam didn’t head back to the motel straight away, instead looping around and taking back streets, doubling back on himself and also breaking a satchel of ash Missouri had given them on their last visit on his shoulders so if something were tracking him, they’d lose the scent.
Only when he was sure he wasn’t being followed did he risk heading back to the motel.
Dean was completely out when Sam slipped through the door, on his back with his mouth open and the buzz-saw of his snore breaking the late evening quiet. Dean only snored when he was stuffed up, as opposed to Sam who, he had been told by Jess, was like sleeping next to a jackhammer sometimes.
Dean had never mentioned Sam’s snoring, had never complained and Sam felt a ridiculous amount of affection surge through him just for that.
He set his backpack down on his own bed and pulled the carton of orange juice free. Dean snorted, rolled to his side and his eyes slitted open, still bright with fever.
“Where you been?” he grumbled, bringing a hand up and around to fist into his eye like a tired kid.
“Just went to get you some juice and aspirin. I’ve only been gone five minutes,” Sam said and Dean blinked at him blearily.
“Really?” he huffed, trying to untangle his legs from the blankets that had wound around his ankles. He gave up after pawing at them for only a few moments with a defeated groan. “Feels like I’ve been out for hours.”
“Here,” Sam said, bringing a half-cup full of juice into Dean’s line of sight. “Have this and I’ll give you some aspirin.”
“Want coffee,” Dean protested, trying to bat the glass of juice away from his head.
“No coffee, juice,” Sam insisted, using his free hand under Dean’s shoulder to lever him into a half-sit. “Drink.”
“But it’s full of vitamins and crap,” Dean protested weakly, taking the proffered glass anyway. He eyed it like he was expecting it to bite him or start speaking Latin. “I hate juice,” he grumbled but finished it in three swallows under Sam’s glare.
“Now tell me where you were,” Dean said, dry-swallowing the aspirin Sam handed him.
“I told you-”
“Dude, I have the flu, not brain damage. When I closed my eyes it was two in the afternoon. It’s nine o’clock now and it’s dark out.”
“Okay, look, don’t freak out but-”
“Stop right there,” Dean groaned, lying back on the bed and putting an arm over his eyes. “How much am I going to hate this?”
000
“Oh yes, sweet as pie that boy,” Henry Reid said, setting a coffee down in front of Sam.
Sam smiled and leaned forward to snag the mug, feeling a little uneasy. It wasn’t often he was invited into homes when he was working a job and the whole thing was surreal.
“You go talk to the neighbours,” Sally had invited. “You’ll find out nothing so much as a pet has gone missing since Daniel has been here.”
Sam was now at his eighth house and was looking at yet another tranquiliser gun mounted to the wall in the living room. Nancy, Henry’s wife and fellow neighbour of Sally, noticed Sam’s gaze when she bustled in with a plate of biscuits and smiled.
“Oh, Oz insisted that we all take precautions. Henry and I aren’t worried in the least but it eases his mind some to think we’re prepared in case anything happens.”
“He told you?” Sam asked slowly, more than a little bewildered.
“He sat us down and explained everything. It was a little strange at first but what that poor boy has gone through,” Nancy’s eyes misted as she looked at her husband. “And being so upfront. I mean, it’s really more of an affliction than anything else.”
“He’s a werewolf,” Sam said slowly, wondering if perhaps the famous Oz had been playing down that fact but Nancy and Henry scrunched their noses up.
“We don’t like that word,” Henry said. “It’s not good to categorise people just because they’re different.”
Sam sat back, coffee forgotten.
000
“All I can think is that Sally is a witch and you’ve brainwashed the whole neighbourhood.”
Oz and Sam were sitting on Sally’s front steps and Oz chuckled, rubbing hands on the knees of his jeans. Sam felt the crazy urge to touch the wooden beads around Oz’s wrist and he tucked his fists under his legs.
“She can be difficult at times but she’s not a witch,” Oz said. A couple of children on bikes pedalled passed and waved. Oz raised a hand back to them.
“I just feel like I’ve stepped into the twilight zone,” Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’ve gotta understand that this whole thing is a little left of center for me.”
“I would think that everything you do is a little left of center for everyone else,” Oz mused, tipping Sam a half-grin. “I mean, I met a slayer in high school so I understand what you do, but not everyone would.”
“That’s an understatement,” Sam snorted. He supposed that there would be a lot of people that would see him and Dean as dangerous and most of the time, it was just a matter of perspective.
“No one really believes that I’m a werewolf like out of horror stories,” Oz continued. “They play along because they’re kind and they think that I believe it. Sally knows but her husband was bitten and she lived with him for years.”
“What happened?” Sam asked fearing the worst but Oz shrugged.
“Had a stroke when he was fifty-five. Time and tide wait for no man.”
“How’d you find her? I can’t imagine there being support groups.”
“Followed whispers and rumours. People who knew people who knew people. I’d been travelling a while and I just wanted to… stop.”
“I can understand that.” Sam nodded. Oz was looking at him with an unreadable expression, hair burnished gold in the dying light of the day.
“Why’d you lie before?” he asked and Sam blinked at him.
“When?”
“You said you were on your own but I know that’s not true.”
“How?” Sam asked, unable to help the fluttering panic that started up in his chest. This is when it happens he thought as sweat sprung onto his top lip, this is when he tells me that he has sent friends after Dean and he’s really very sorry, but he’s going to have to kill me now.
Oz was smiling, a mild expression like he could tell just what panicked place Sam’s mind had skipped to. He tapped the side of his nose. “You smell like someone else as much as yourself.”
“Oh,” Sam said, feeling vaguely guilty.
“Sorry, I know it’s a little creepy but I can’t really help it. I couldn’t not notice. I can smell sickness.”
“Yeah, it’s…” Sam clenched his fists. “My brother. He has a pretty bad flu.”
“Where is he?”
“Motel,” Sam answered.
“That can’t be fun. If it’s the Blue Lake Motel just outside of town, then that place is a craphole.”
“That’s putting it politely.”
Oz looked at Sam again, something careful about his expression. “You can bring him here,” he said. His hands were up, palms out like he’d been with Sally. Sam thought it must have been Oz’s way of saying no pressure, no threat.
“I couldn’t do that,” Sam said, shaking his head.
“Really. Sally lives to look after people. I actually think she prefers the three nights a month where I’m furry and she needs to care for me.”
“I’m not sure… I don’t think he’d like it.”
“Honestly, think about it. I’m guessing you guys aren’t really the type for hospitals.”
000
“I need my gun!” Dean yelled as soon as Sam was through the door an hour later.
“What? Why?” Sam demanded, feeling adrenalin dump through his system.
“There’s angry squid. They’re out to get me,” Dean said, tone serious and Sam grimaced, taking in his wide eyes and red-flushed face.
“Okay, it might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but we’re getting out of here,” Sam said, crossing to Dean and throwing the covers back.
Dean held out his arms and grinned. “Aeroplane? Please Dad?”
“Christ,” Sam groaned, shoving a shoulder under Dean’s and lifting.
000
“He’s dehydrated but his fever’s broken,” Sally said, coming out of her spare bedroom, wiping hands on a towel slung over her shoulder. “He’s lucid and demanding to know where you are,” she added, turning a smile to Sam.
Sam looked at Oz and then pushed through the bedroom door, seeing Dean sprawled out on the bed with a wet cloth over his forehead.
“Sammy?” Dean sat up, cloth slipping from his face and Sam dropped onto a chair by the bed.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, putting a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. It was still warm but he didn’t feel like a furnace to the touch anymore and Sam let out a sigh of relief.
“Where are we? Who was that woman?”
“Her name’s Sally. We’re going to crash here till you’re well.”
“You know her or something?” Dean asked, dropping the cloth back over his face and lying back.
“Not really. She’s okay though.”
“Are we in the werewolf’s house?” Dean asked slowly.
“It’s Sally’s house, he just stays here.”
“I swear to God Sam-!”
“They’re fine. Her husband was a werewolf and she looked after him for years. Oz is staying here for a while and it all checks out. I’ve been to the library and there have been no unusual, unexplained deaths. If anything this town has a lower mortality rate than normal and nothing supernatural. I think having a werewolf in the center of town actually helps.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“No. A black dog wouldn’t come within miles of this place if it scented a werewolf. Same for a lot of stuff.”
“I just… we can’t start thinking that everything has a reason for being evil.”
“Oz isn’t evil,” Sam snapped. “Something happened to him that wasn’t his fault and he’s dealing with it as best as he can.”
“Sam-”
“No Dean, I don’t know why you have to be so bull-headed about all this. If there’s hope for someone like Oz then…”
Dean pulled the cloth away from his face and sat up slowly, eyeing Sam. “Wow.”
“What?” Sam snapped.
“I mean, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You’re looking for cases like Lenore and Oz on purpose.”
“Dean-”
“No Sam, you are. What? If they’re okay, you’re okay? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“What’s so bad about that?”
“You’re nothing like them!” Dean hissed, thumping a fist down on the bed by his side.
“The hell I’m not!” Sam snapped. “Just because you can’t see that I’m different, doesn’t mean I’m not. I’m not normal and it took me a while to see it. Maybe that’s why I craved a normal life so much, because I could see that I wasn’t.”
“You’re not like them,” Dean ground out. “You’re not a killer.”
“Keep saying it Dean,” Sam said, sounding weary. “Maybe you’ll convince one of us eventually.”
000
“Your brother isn’t exactly open-minded.”
Sam came to a stop at the bottom of the basement stairs, seeing Oz crouched in front of the open door of his cell, shaking out one of the ragged blankets and scrunching up his nose when he took an experimental sniff. “I always thought peeing my bed would be over and done with by now,” Oz said with a chuckle.
“Dean’s just trying to protect me,” Sam said, lowering himself to sit on the bottom step, watching as Oz snagged a couple of the chew toys and tossed them out of the cell.
“From who?”
“Myself mostly,” Sam admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I suspect that’s a bit of an uphill battle.”
“He seems to think so,” Sam agreed, laughing. “I’ve been meaning to ask… chew toys?”
Oz cast a look over his shoulder. “Sally thinks it’s hilarious,” he said.
“When did it happen?” Sam asked, knowing that it was a rare thing to get to actually talk to something they would normally hunt. He could protest whenever Dean called him a geek but deep down he knew his thirst for knowledge pretty much made the label a valid one.
“High school. My cousin Jordy bit me on the finger when he was a baby.”
“You’re kidding,” Sam said, mouth dropping open.
“Wish I was. I’d love to have a more glamorous origin story like in the comics but then, real life isn’t really like that, is it?”
“True.”
“Look, you’re brother isn’t going to ever accept this, and that’s okay.”
“It’s not though. You’re a good guy and you didn’t deserve this.”
“Who does?” Oz shrugged, standing and turning to face Sam. “When fate dealt the cards, I got a crap hand, but then a lot of people can say that. I haven’t hurt anyone and I’ve got a lot of people willing to help me out. Relatively speaking, my life’s pretty okay.”
“But-”
“I don’t need Dean in my corner. I get the feeling there’s something else going on here anyway that I’m not going to pretend to understand. He’s not trying to shoot me full of silver, that’s all I ask.”
“Others will. Hunters will keep coming.”
“I know that. If they find me again, I’ll move on. There are places I can go that no one would ever find me, but I don’t want to live like that. You know?”
“Yeah, I can understand that.”
Oz crossed the room to Sam, hunkering down in front of him and putting his hands on Sam’s knees. “You gotta stop trying to save everyone. It’s going to destroy you.”
“How do you… how do you cope with that thing inside yourself that could destroy everyone you care about?” Sam asked in a hollow whisper and Oz canted his head, eyes serious.
“I wish I had some sterling piece of wisdom for you, Sam, but I don’t. You just gotta live day to day and not let the darkness swallow you.”
000
“I don’t want to see you back here,” Sally said as Dean shouldered passed her onto the front porch.
“Don’t let the door hit me on the way out?” Dean smirked, raising an eyebrow and Sally crossed her arms.
“Maybe if you did it would knock some sense into that thick skull.”
Dean frowned but Sally’s expression had softened when Sam appeared behind her. She looped arms around his neck and dragged him into a hug. “I don’t want to see you either,” she warned but she was smiling and Sam grinned.
Oz was standing down on the curb, set a little way back from the Impala. Dean skirted him, keeping a wary eye on him until he was in the car. Sam stopped at the bottom of the steps, shifting the weight of his duffle.
“You going to move on?” Sam asked.
“You going to say anything?”
“No.”
“Then no,” Oz smiled.
“How long do you think you’ll be able to do this?” Sam asked and Oz shrugged.
“Long as I need to. I haven’t exhausted every avenue yet, may still find a way to undo this.”
“You think?”
“Not really, but you gotta have hope right?”
When Sam slid into the passenger seat, Dean watched him settle and then opened his mouth.
“No more of these, okay? I won’t look for any more of these,” Sam said.
“Maybe-”
“No, you’re right. Finding people like Lenore and Oz don’t make a difference. It’s nice to know they’re there, but this is me. I’m on my own.”
Dean slid the keys into the ignition and the Impala purred to life. “No you’re not,” he said.