The other Sam shook his head. “They keep saying it’s destiny,” he replied.
“Who’s they?”
Another head shake, like Sam was a kid again, the truth only a few words away. That was really it, the last straw. Sam didn’t want to be a hunter, didn’t want to look like this worn-out vision of his future. His life was bright, clean, and safe. Maybe even normal. Whatever he thought he might become, Dad wasn’t on the list of his expectations. Because that’s whom that person reminded him of, not his dreamed-about future, but the cold nights and the hunts that didn’t go down as planned, and the pain and the fear and the regret that made Sam want to leave in the first place.
“How did you get here?” Sam demanded.
“I don’t know.” That, at least, sounded like the truth.
Sam dismissed it, at least for the time being. “You have any supplies? Antibiotics? I don’t know how high your fever is, but it’s bad.”
The other Sam shook his head. “Not feverish,” he said. “Coming down.”
He scratched at the wound on his belly, and it started bleeding again. Sam knocked his doppelganger’s hand away and pulled out his first aid kit. It wasn’t like the one stashed in the Impala, but it was decent enough. Rubbing alcohol and gauze cleaned up the wound, and it was then that Sam could see what it was. Scratch marks, hundreds of them, some worse than others. The other Sam had dried blood on his hands, under his nails, and Sam shuddered at the thought of inflicting that kind of damage on himself.
“Can’t get it out,” the other Sam continued. “I tried. Shouted myself hoarse and then tried to dig it out myself.”
Sam closed his eyes and tried to come to terms with the fact that sometime in the future, he was obviously going to lose his mind completely. “What happened to you?” he asked. “I left hunting, I swore I was done with it. What happened?”
He didn’t expect an answer, but the other Sam surprised him. “Jess,” he said. “I’m not sure when it happened exactly, I didn’t pay attention, but you’re in love with her.” His eyes turned hungry, hot hands grabbing Sam’s until he had to shove them away. “Can I see her?” he asked. “Can I talk to her? God, what would she say? What would I say?” His head fell back, and he just stared at the stained ceiling for a while. “What happened?” he finally repeated. “It all went up in flames, that’s what happened. I tried, I really did, but nothing came out the way it was supposed to.”
His shoulders hitched, and he wiped at his eyes with a grimy hand.
“What happened?” Sam asked again, but the question was different that time. His life wasn’t perfect, not by any means, but it was decent. He was a real person, he existed the same on paper as he did in his personal life. He did things that most people cared about, that wouldn’t send his friends running for the hills. Hell, he had friends. He wasn’t this broken thing lying there, bruised and bloody on the floor of his dorm room.
“The end of the world,” the other Sam answered.
***
It didn’t take him long to finish with his future self’s wound, though it took all of his gauze and most of his adhesive tape. Once he was done, Sam dug around in his sock drawer until he found the flask of whiskey. Dean had stashed it in his pack, over a year ago, when he left. Sam had never really had a reason to drink it before. He fell asleep, half drunk, and when he woke up the next morning, the doppelganger was gone.
His dorm room was a mess, dirty rags and pieces of the first aid kit strewn around the room. Sam sat up, bleary and feeling a little grimy himself, but mostly bewildered by it all. Had the doppelganger left, or was he sent back to his own time, or had he just vanished into thin air? Was that proof that he had really met some strange future version of himself, or just proof that he had done something stupid and started drinking afterward?
His hands were on his phone before he realized what he was doing. He knew Dean’s number by heart, like he knew that Dean would answer, because he wouldn’t have changed cell phones since the last time they’d talked, just in case.
Dream or hallucination or supernatural creature fucking with him, Dean should know about it.
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carisma_sensei
FILLED: Wayward Son, 2/2
Date: 2010-03-10 04:06 pm (UTC)“Who’s they?”
Another head shake, like Sam was a kid again, the truth only a few words away. That was really it, the last straw. Sam didn’t want to be a hunter, didn’t want to look like this worn-out vision of his future. His life was bright, clean, and safe. Maybe even normal. Whatever he thought he might become, Dad wasn’t on the list of his expectations. Because that’s whom that person reminded him of, not his dreamed-about future, but the cold nights and the hunts that didn’t go down as planned, and the pain and the fear and the regret that made Sam want to leave in the first place.
“How did you get here?” Sam demanded.
“I don’t know.” That, at least, sounded like the truth.
Sam dismissed it, at least for the time being. “You have any supplies? Antibiotics? I don’t know how high your fever is, but it’s bad.”
The other Sam shook his head. “Not feverish,” he said. “Coming down.”
He scratched at the wound on his belly, and it started bleeding again. Sam knocked his doppelganger’s hand away and pulled out his first aid kit. It wasn’t like the one stashed in the Impala, but it was decent enough. Rubbing alcohol and gauze cleaned up the wound, and it was then that Sam could see what it was. Scratch marks, hundreds of them, some worse than others. The other Sam had dried blood on his hands, under his nails, and Sam shuddered at the thought of inflicting that kind of damage on himself.
“Can’t get it out,” the other Sam continued. “I tried. Shouted myself hoarse and then tried to dig it out myself.”
Sam closed his eyes and tried to come to terms with the fact that sometime in the future, he was obviously going to lose his mind completely. “What happened to you?” he asked. “I left hunting, I swore I was done with it. What happened?”
He didn’t expect an answer, but the other Sam surprised him. “Jess,” he said. “I’m not sure when it happened exactly, I didn’t pay attention, but you’re in love with her.” His eyes turned hungry, hot hands grabbing Sam’s until he had to shove them away. “Can I see her?” he asked. “Can I talk to her? God, what would she say? What would I say?” His head fell back, and he just stared at the stained ceiling for a while. “What happened?” he finally repeated. “It all went up in flames, that’s what happened. I tried, I really did, but nothing came out the way it was supposed to.”
His shoulders hitched, and he wiped at his eyes with a grimy hand.
“What happened?” Sam asked again, but the question was different that time. His life wasn’t perfect, not by any means, but it was decent. He was a real person, he existed the same on paper as he did in his personal life. He did things that most people cared about, that wouldn’t send his friends running for the hills. Hell, he had friends. He wasn’t this broken thing lying there, bruised and bloody on the floor of his dorm room.
“The end of the world,” the other Sam answered.
***
It didn’t take him long to finish with his future self’s wound, though it took all of his gauze and most of his adhesive tape. Once he was done, Sam dug around in his sock drawer until he found the flask of whiskey. Dean had stashed it in his pack, over a year ago, when he left. Sam had never really had a reason to drink it before. He fell asleep, half drunk, and when he woke up the next morning, the doppelganger was gone.
His dorm room was a mess, dirty rags and pieces of the first aid kit strewn around the room. Sam sat up, bleary and feeling a little grimy himself, but mostly bewildered by it all. Had the doppelganger left, or was he sent back to his own time, or had he just vanished into thin air? Was that proof that he had really met some strange future version of himself, or just proof that he had done something stupid and started drinking afterward?
His hands were on his phone before he realized what he was doing. He knew Dean’s number by heart, like he knew that Dean would answer, because he wouldn’t have changed cell phones since the last time they’d talked, just in case.
Dream or hallucination or supernatural creature fucking with him, Dean should know about it.
Just in case.