mynamesnotmeg: (sam: looking down in darkness)
Sam's no longer kneeling.

He stretches, looks in the mirror, and smiles in satisfaction.

"Just like slipping into a new pair of shoes." He runs his hands over his chest, down his abdomen to his hips and upper thighs. "A great-fitting pair, at that. Much more comfortable than wearing that whiny bitch Meg Masters. This one's got room to move."

At the thought, the demon smiles again, trying out Sam's face.

"Oh, that's good. The floppy hair, the soulful puppy eyes, the bashful smile -- they're going to love you, Sammy. And they'll never see it coming. Not even Dean."

"You stay the fuck away from my brother!" He may be trapped deep within his own body, but that's all it takes to smash through the horrified shock and spur him to action. Sam begins to struggle, then to fight in earnest.

--Dad did it, he fought off the yellow-eyed demon - that means I can too, I've got to--

Although he doesn't know it, he's probably right. He's strong, after all; more powerful than he even realizes. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the slightest idea how to begin, or what he's really capable of.

The demon, however, knows. Her father told her long ago; it was all part of the plan. Which means that while Sam's still trying to land the first blow, it's already figured out exactly how to deal with this.

"Ah-ah-ah, not so fast," the demon says aloud. "We're just getting started. I've got things to do. Places to go, people to kill, but first--"

Sam's left hand flies out, and snatches up the still-burning votive candle in its glass holder. He inverts it over his right forearm and brings the heated glass down, searing a perfect ring into unprotected flesh.

-- OW - what the fuck - oh god, no!--

Glass shatters as the candle falls to the floor. Sam picks up the rosary and the lighter. He flicks it once, producing a bright flame, and uses that to heat the metal edge of the cross. Moments later, his arm acquires a second burn, this one a straight line across the edge of the ring.

--  .   .   .             --

The demon waits for a second or two, just to be sure. There's nothing but silence within.

"Lock and key," it gloats, tossing the rosary aside. "You're stuck with me now, Sammy."

"And it's time we were on our way."


Five minutes later, Sam Winchester walks out of the motel room.

The door shuts behind him.

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Meg Masters

July 2009

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