5 - Because I cheat.milesfromfineMay 24 2012, 14:57:39 UTC
[A note tucked into an inside pocket of a jacket Sam accidentally left the last time Dean had to rescue him from himself. It stained and smudged, but mostly legible
( ... )
Cheaters never win. Except for right now, when they do.alifeordinaryMay 25 2012, 14:36:02 UTC
[To say he hadn't meant to go through Sam's things would probably be an outright lie- number one, Sam's jacket was freaking filthy. It was habit, by now, to go through the contents of the pockets of the clothes he was about to wash. After that last red pen that made it look like he'd bled all over the seat of his jeans, it was just stupid not to.
Number two, well... even if it hadn't been, it was still a good idea to get rid of any paraphernalia Sam might've been harboring.
He hadn't expected to come across a letter addressed to him, and even if he had, he wouldn't have expected this. Maybe something telling him to mind his own goddamn business and start treating him like an adult or something, but not... this
( ... )
[Sam was home... as much as the place was 'home' anyway. They were staying in a tiny, run-down apartment in the worst possible part of town. Landlords were less careful in the area. Easier for rent jumpers to find someone who'd let them in. Then again, Sam wasn't entirely sure that his name or Ruby's was on this particular lease. There were at least two other people who came and went pretty regularly
( ... )
[Dean was impatient on the best of days, and right now... Well, he barely waits a minute before he's raising his fist to bang again. Paused midway when a particularly enthusiastic moan broke free of the neighboring apartment and quirked a brow at it. Huh.
Focus. A beat later, and he's pounding on the door again.]
Sam! Open the door, Sam!
[Not that he expects it to do much good- they're either avoiding the landlord, a dealer, a cop, or they're too stoned to realize someone's at the door. Frankly, he's not really interested in waiting for Sam to come down enough to realize it's him, so he waits less than a second to go for the knob.
On the ride over, he had plenty of time to figure out a game plan- and about fucking time, too. He never should have let it come to this.Going about it with a you can lead a horse to water attitude was only going to get Sam killed, and he's absolutely and totally done with that.]
[Okay, that was weird. Now the banging sounded like someone calling his name. Sam glanced around nervously and up at Ruby. She hadn't even flinched. Maybe the sound wasn't real?
Slowly, sluggishly, Sam raised his head and looked around the apartment with glassy eyes. No holes in the wall yet. Nothing stalking him.
Even so, he tucked himself more firmly into the corner when he laid back down. If he pretended it wasn't there, it would go away, right?]
[He sighed, passed a hand over his face. What if they've already hopped this place before the rent's supposed to come due? If that's the case, it'll be another two weeks before Sam hits him up for money and gives away his new address. Son of a bitch.
With a grunt of irritation, he digs around in his jacket pocket for his wallet, tugs out a credit card, and slides it into the space between the door and the frame. These shitty apartments probably have crap excuses for locks. With any luck, they won't have a bolt, just the worthless excuse of a locking knob. It takes a minute of sliding the card around before he finally catches the metal tongue and nudges it back, then thrusts his shoulder into the door.]
[He stood there a minute, just taking in the sight. Sam, half-sprawled in an apartment that didn't even have fucking furniture, unless you counted a mattress in the floor. Strung out, red-eyed, veins protruding and lips cracked, and Ruby, too spaced out to even acknowledge that someone else had come into her apartment.
And a needle still sticking out of her arm. His jaw tightened, tensed, the muscles clenched a few times as he fought to get himself under control. He ignored Sam's question, for the moment, and crossed the room to bend down in front of Ruby.
Granted, he didn't like her, but, still... shit. Carefully, he took her arm, turned it, and tugged the needle out. Wiped off the blood with the sleeve of his shirt, and untied the thick yellow rubber thing she'd tied above her veins. Must be hard to find them, now. He capped the needle, and tossed it into the disgusting excuse for a kitchen sink. Fucking gross.]
You got any clothes here, Sammy?
[He asked the wall, unable to really spare a look at his stupid kid brother.]
[The drugged paranoia was still clawing at him when Dean moved forward. Sam shrank back against the wall and watched him lean over Ruby. Oh god, it was going to eat her first-- it, no, Dean. It was Dean. Why was Dean there?
Sam blinked in confusion at the question when he realized it was directed at him. Clothes? He was wearing some, wasn't he? Never certain, he glanced down to make sure. He was wearing wrinkled, old, well-worn jeans and a t-shirt, but definitely dressed. Okay.
He looked back up at Dean again.] Um... in the bedroom?
[Sam, if he were ever going to eat a person, Ruby is absolutely the last one in the world he'd go for. She'd probably poison him through sheer willpower alone, the bitch.
He moved through the apartment- man, this place was a shithole- toward the bedroom. Not much better in there, either, and of course Sam didn't have a dufflebag or something. Screw it. He grabbed a kitchen trash bag, began to stuff in articles without even really looking at them. If one or two of Ruby's got mixed in, well, fuck it. They'll just throw it out later. He'll rewash the same two outfits if he has to, until they can buy Sam some better gear.
He stomped back into the living room, met Sam's eyes for the first time since bursting in this joint, trash bag gripped tightly in one hand. He held up a finger.]
Gonna say this one time, Sam. You're getting in the car. Now, whether you walk there yourself or I carry you is entirely up to you, but we're not playing any games.
[Sam used to be big. He was still tall, but now... Well, between the drugs and the inability
( ... )
[The Sci-Fi channel? You mean the one people watch when they can't get laid? No, he prefers having sex. And zombies.
Sam could keep on thinking he was a hallucination for now- he was easier to keep in line that way. When he started to come down, that's where the real problem was going to be. He was signing himself up for a shitload of sleepless nights and sleeping in front of the door, yeah, he got that. And poor Cas- shit, he really ought to have given Cas a little warning, but it was too late for that now.]
Fine. Long as you do what I tell you to, no yelling.
[He wasn't in a yelling mood. He was in a 'getting shit done' mood, which was entirely action and no talk. He saw Sam wobble, moved forward to loop an arm around his waist and help keep him upright. Ruby hadn't moved throughout the entire discussion. That was... pretty damn concerning, actually.
His first priority was Sam, though. Once he got Sam safely to the car, he'd call an ambulance to make sure she was just tweaking and hadn't actually OD-ed.]
[Oh yeah. Sam was easy to get along with now. Just wait until withdrawals kicked in. Then Dean might wish he'd left Sam where he found him.
When Dean grabbed him, Sam found and lifted a hand to prod his brother's chest lightly. His hallucinations always seemed real when they were happening, but this was especially solid. Kind of weird.]
Dean? What...?
[Why would Dean be there? He hated Ruby and he wasn't too fond of Sam these days. Sam looked around, gaze finally landing on Ruby.]
[Ah, crap. And now that Dean was more than just a figment of his imagination, things were undoubtedly gonna get more difficult. Please, Sam, just for once, don't be a gigantic pain in the ass. This is happening whether you like it or not, and if you put up a fight now, he's investing in one of those bolts to put on the outside of his bedroom door. He'll live on the couch for two months and bolt Sam in his bedroom if he's gotta. Enough is enough.]
Already told you. We're going to the car. Don't worry- I got someone checking up on your girlfriend.
[He tugged Sam forward with one arm, muscles tightening a little to pointedly nudge him along.]
It's gonna be alright, Sammy, just come on. We're going for a ride.
[Sam didn't really have a whole lot of protest in him. He felt like he should be protesting, but he couldn't clear his head enough to figure out why or what to say. It was just easier to coast along for now.]
I think I'm supposed to be here. [He mumbled even as he was stumbling out the door and headed to the elevator with Dean's arm tight around him.] M'not supposed to be in your car.
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Number two, well... even if it hadn't been, it was still a good idea to get rid of any paraphernalia Sam might've been harboring.
He hadn't expected to come across a letter addressed to him, and even if he had, he wouldn't have expected this. Maybe something telling him to mind his own goddamn business and start treating him like an adult or something, but not... this ( ... )
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Focus. A beat later, and he's pounding on the door again.]
Sam! Open the door, Sam!
[Not that he expects it to do much good- they're either avoiding the landlord, a dealer, a cop, or they're too stoned to realize someone's at the door. Frankly, he's not really interested in waiting for Sam to come down enough to realize it's him, so he waits less than a second to go for the knob.
On the ride over, he had plenty of time to figure out a game plan- and about fucking time, too. He never should have let it come to this.Going about it with a you can lead a horse to water attitude was only going to get Sam killed, and he's absolutely and totally done with that.]
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Slowly, sluggishly, Sam raised his head and looked around the apartment with glassy eyes. No holes in the wall yet. Nothing stalking him.
Even so, he tucked himself more firmly into the corner when he laid back down. If he pretended it wasn't there, it would go away, right?]
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With a grunt of irritation, he digs around in his jacket pocket for his wallet, tugs out a credit card, and slides it into the space between the door and the frame. These shitty apartments probably have crap excuses for locks. With any luck, they won't have a bolt, just the worthless excuse of a locking knob. It takes a minute of sliding the card around before he finally catches the metal tongue and nudges it back, then thrusts his shoulder into the door.]
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Except that it looked a lot like his brother...]
... Dean?
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And a needle still sticking out of her arm. His jaw tightened, tensed, the muscles clenched a few times as he fought to get himself under control. He ignored Sam's question, for the moment, and crossed the room to bend down in front of Ruby.
Granted, he didn't like her, but, still... shit. Carefully, he took her arm, turned it, and tugged the needle out. Wiped off the blood with the sleeve of his shirt, and untied the thick yellow rubber thing she'd tied above her veins. Must be hard to find them, now. He capped the needle, and tossed it into the disgusting excuse for a kitchen sink. Fucking gross.]
You got any clothes here, Sammy?
[He asked the wall, unable to really spare a look at his stupid kid brother.]
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Sam blinked in confusion at the question when he realized it was directed at him. Clothes? He was wearing some, wasn't he? Never certain, he glanced down to make sure. He was wearing wrinkled, old, well-worn jeans and a t-shirt, but definitely dressed. Okay.
He looked back up at Dean again.] Um... in the bedroom?
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He moved through the apartment- man, this place was a shithole- toward the bedroom. Not much better in there, either, and of course Sam didn't have a dufflebag or something. Screw it. He grabbed a kitchen trash bag, began to stuff in articles without even really looking at them. If one or two of Ruby's got mixed in, well, fuck it. They'll just throw it out later. He'll rewash the same two outfits if he has to, until they can buy Sam some better gear.
He stomped back into the living room, met Sam's eyes for the first time since bursting in this joint, trash bag gripped tightly in one hand. He held up a finger.]
Gonna say this one time, Sam. You're getting in the car. Now, whether you walk there yourself or I carry you is entirely up to you, but we're not playing any games.
[Sam used to be big. He was still tall, but now... Well, between the drugs and the inability ( ... )
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Sam could keep on thinking he was a hallucination for now- he was easier to keep in line that way. When he started to come down, that's where the real problem was going to be. He was signing himself up for a shitload of sleepless nights and sleeping in front of the door, yeah, he got that. And poor Cas- shit, he really ought to have given Cas a little warning, but it was too late for that now.]
Fine. Long as you do what I tell you to, no yelling.
[He wasn't in a yelling mood. He was in a 'getting shit done' mood, which was entirely action and no talk. He saw Sam wobble, moved forward to loop an arm around his waist and help keep him upright. Ruby hadn't moved throughout the entire discussion. That was... pretty damn concerning, actually.
His first priority was Sam, though. Once he got Sam safely to the car, he'd call an ambulance to make sure she was just tweaking and hadn't actually OD-ed.]
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When Dean grabbed him, Sam found and lifted a hand to prod his brother's chest lightly. His hallucinations always seemed real when they were happening, but this was especially solid. Kind of weird.]
Dean? What...?
[Why would Dean be there? He hated Ruby and he wasn't too fond of Sam these days. Sam looked around, gaze finally landing on Ruby.]
Hey... wait. I can't just leave. Where'm I going?
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Already told you. We're going to the car. Don't worry- I got someone checking up on your girlfriend.
[He tugged Sam forward with one arm, muscles tightening a little to pointedly nudge him along.]
It's gonna be alright, Sammy, just come on. We're going for a ride.
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[Sam didn't really have a whole lot of protest in him. He felt like he should be protesting, but he couldn't clear his head enough to figure out why or what to say. It was just easier to coast along for now.]
I think I'm supposed to be here. [He mumbled even as he was stumbling out the door and headed to the elevator with Dean's arm tight around him.] M'not supposed to be in your car.
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