Supernatural Fic: Cobwebs
I saw Hunted last night and for the first time in my life, I was compelled to write a fic there and then. This makes three fics since new year and four in a month, everybody.
I've got my mojo back!
Title: Cobwebs
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating / Genre: PG-13, Gen
Words: 760
Spoilers: 2.10: Hunted (Missing Scene fic, sort of)
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW. So shall it be and so shall it ever be.
Summary: Be cunning and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
~~~
Sam felt the wire give beneath his outstretched leg.
Had time to follow its path to the wall, to the grenade nestled in the wall, the pin reverberating with a muffled ping as it hit the floor below.
Oh shi-
Pain exploded through Sam as he fell to his knees. The world flashed brightly in scarlet-white behind his eyes before he realised that he could open them. He looked back at the wire's tether, the pin still bouncing on the ground.
The grenade spinning lightly above it.
It wasn't a punch this time, it was a flood of raw fear connecting Sam to the trigger and holding it closed. He'd wondered about the last time and had convinced himself that what had happened at Max's house with the cabinet was due to Max himself, it had to be. Sure, Sam’s vision had shown him that Dean was been in danger, but Dean had been in danger plenty of times since then and yet the only punches Sam had thrown had been with his fists. Last time, Sam was certain, the telekinesis had been connected to Max, the power had been his and somehow he'd borrowed it. This time was different. This time, it was all him.
And it hurt.
Pain draped over Sam's mind like a lava flow, and he grunted with the sheer effort of staying alive. Trying not to panic, he focused what little part of his brain wasn't screaming on the game in front of him. A trap had been set for him, no surprise there with Dean trussed up like a butterball turkey. Whatever it was that made Gordon want Sam dead- and Sam could take a pretty good guess- he was no doubt expecting the tripped grenade to do the job. Too scared to think about the how or why, Sam closed his eyes and focused all the psychic energy roaring out of him and hurled the grenade at the ceiling, covering his head as he pulled his mind away from the trigger.
There was a soft click as the fuse touched and detonated the explosives and blew out the ceiling. The bitter taste of adrenaline sharp on his tongue, Sam forced himself to stay silent as wood splintered violently around him, counting his blessings as he realised that Gordon's restraint may not be bountiful when it came to the quarry he hunted but at least he didn't believe in overdoing the firepower.
Or not.
In the settling dust, Sam saw the second wire outlined in the gloom, leading a spider trail to a small nest of grenades half-hidden in the walls. His ears ringing in the sonic aftershock, he reached out with mind, felt the power there bloom inside him with a split of ice-fire pain and drew back.
"All things considered, Sammy," he imagined Dean's light-hearted sarcasm in his ears, "Now's probably not the best time for experimentation."
Scrambling in the debris, Sam clumsily pulled his boot off, grateful for the first time ever that his broken hand impaired his ability to tie tight laces and threw it at the wire, diving his head beneath his hands again once more as he waited for the explosion.
The world blew apart.
From the next room, Sam heard the muffled cries of his brother's furious grief and anger flared up inside him, harsh and strong. Panic fell away from him, replaced by hushed fury and he hauled himself to his feet and into the shadows.
Silently, Sam reached behind him and pulled his gun from dropped crook of his back. Fissures of pain coursed through his head, the image of the grenade suspended in the fragile grasp of his mind replaying itself over and over liked a crazed toy monkey holding a cymbal. Whatever had happened moments before, shouldn't have and Sam knew it. The power, whatever its source was too great, no person could have that in them, could wield it, and stay who they started.
Gordon stepped into the gloaming and Sam felt the temptation to test it again, really give the hunter something to be scared of. The screech of Dean's chair cut through the quiet and the temptation died again, righteous anger fading with it. Panic returned to Sam without hesitation and he thanked whatever deities might be out there that he had his older brother to pull him back from the dark.
That rage, it was too high a price. No wonder Max was a monster.
Sam raised his gun.
From here on out, he'd run things his way.
~~~
I've got my mojo back!
Title: Cobwebs
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating / Genre: PG-13, Gen
Words: 760
Spoilers: 2.10: Hunted (Missing Scene fic, sort of)
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW. So shall it be and so shall it ever be.
Summary: Be cunning and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.
~~~
Sam felt the wire give beneath his outstretched leg.
Had time to follow its path to the wall, to the grenade nestled in the wall, the pin reverberating with a muffled ping as it hit the floor below.
Oh shi-
Pain exploded through Sam as he fell to his knees. The world flashed brightly in scarlet-white behind his eyes before he realised that he could open them. He looked back at the wire's tether, the pin still bouncing on the ground.
The grenade spinning lightly above it.
It wasn't a punch this time, it was a flood of raw fear connecting Sam to the trigger and holding it closed. He'd wondered about the last time and had convinced himself that what had happened at Max's house with the cabinet was due to Max himself, it had to be. Sure, Sam’s vision had shown him that Dean was been in danger, but Dean had been in danger plenty of times since then and yet the only punches Sam had thrown had been with his fists. Last time, Sam was certain, the telekinesis had been connected to Max, the power had been his and somehow he'd borrowed it. This time was different. This time, it was all him.
And it hurt.
Pain draped over Sam's mind like a lava flow, and he grunted with the sheer effort of staying alive. Trying not to panic, he focused what little part of his brain wasn't screaming on the game in front of him. A trap had been set for him, no surprise there with Dean trussed up like a butterball turkey. Whatever it was that made Gordon want Sam dead- and Sam could take a pretty good guess- he was no doubt expecting the tripped grenade to do the job. Too scared to think about the how or why, Sam closed his eyes and focused all the psychic energy roaring out of him and hurled the grenade at the ceiling, covering his head as he pulled his mind away from the trigger.
There was a soft click as the fuse touched and detonated the explosives and blew out the ceiling. The bitter taste of adrenaline sharp on his tongue, Sam forced himself to stay silent as wood splintered violently around him, counting his blessings as he realised that Gordon's restraint may not be bountiful when it came to the quarry he hunted but at least he didn't believe in overdoing the firepower.
Or not.
In the settling dust, Sam saw the second wire outlined in the gloom, leading a spider trail to a small nest of grenades half-hidden in the walls. His ears ringing in the sonic aftershock, he reached out with mind, felt the power there bloom inside him with a split of ice-fire pain and drew back.
"All things considered, Sammy," he imagined Dean's light-hearted sarcasm in his ears, "Now's probably not the best time for experimentation."
Scrambling in the debris, Sam clumsily pulled his boot off, grateful for the first time ever that his broken hand impaired his ability to tie tight laces and threw it at the wire, diving his head beneath his hands again once more as he waited for the explosion.
The world blew apart.
From the next room, Sam heard the muffled cries of his brother's furious grief and anger flared up inside him, harsh and strong. Panic fell away from him, replaced by hushed fury and he hauled himself to his feet and into the shadows.
Silently, Sam reached behind him and pulled his gun from dropped crook of his back. Fissures of pain coursed through his head, the image of the grenade suspended in the fragile grasp of his mind replaying itself over and over liked a crazed toy monkey holding a cymbal. Whatever had happened moments before, shouldn't have and Sam knew it. The power, whatever its source was too great, no person could have that in them, could wield it, and stay who they started.
Gordon stepped into the gloaming and Sam felt the temptation to test it again, really give the hunter something to be scared of. The screech of Dean's chair cut through the quiet and the temptation died again, righteous anger fading with it. Panic returned to Sam without hesitation and he thanked whatever deities might be out there that he had his older brother to pull him back from the dark.
That rage, it was too high a price. No wonder Max was a monster.
Sam raised his gun.
From here on out, he'd run things his way.
~~~