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writingbyebonioTitle: I Didn't Know Me Until I Met You
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eboniorchid
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Chapter 8: I Hear for You and Speak for Me
[004.Annoyed]
Dean called, from Colorado this time, but it wasn't an average check-in. No, Dean was amped up … and freaked out … and apparently in the car with his dad, which he seemed to hope Sam understood could potentially get awkward.
Apparently, that solution they'd been waiting for really had presented itself.
Dean had gone out to investigate the mysterious death of one of his father's contacts and, while he was looking for clues, it seemed that he had run into the elusive John Winchester, himself. One of those clues led them to some kind of magicked firearm with a long history of killing absolutely anything supernatural. They called it "The Colt," which seemed like a terribly boring name for what sounded like a pretty kickass weapon, but if it could really do what Dean was saying it could, then they might really have a chance of winning the upcoming battle.
John had wanted to separate again, for both their safety, because he knew "The Demon" was trying to track him down. Of course, this led to an … interesting … discussion … between John and Dean about Sam and his mission and his identity and his turning over a new leaf and fighting for the good guys. Dean didn't give him all gory the details, but Sam could tell that conversation had been … difficult … and that Dean had left out that whole part about how they used to have a lot of sex and how they were still kind of … seeing each other … where "seeing" was defined by high school socializing standards.
John was, rather unsurprisingly, reluctant to meet Sam and he was reluctant to believe what Dean was telling him, but Dean had convinced him to just come out to Massachusetts for a day or two and decide for himself. So, this call was Sam's two-day warning to arrange for a room and generally get everything as much in order as he could before he finally met John Winchester, the man who was the original top slot on his kill list.
---
They had decided to meet altogether at the motel, because it seemed easier and safer for all of them to meet someplace out of the way and out of the earshot of local busybodies and potential turncoats. So two days after Dean's call, Sam got them a room, paying strictly with cash, and put it under a fake name, just like Dean always did. Then he'd settled in to wait for them.
Well before there was any knock, Sam just felt the need to open the door. Dean was walking towards him with a taller, shaggier, darker-haired man beside him and it seemed like John, well, the man he guessed was John, was chiding Dean about something. As they approached, Sam strained to hear the tail end of the conversation, thinking it might have something to do with him. But it didn't. It just seemed to be John muttering away about how Dean needed to tune up the car, take better care of it, he wouldn't have given it to him if he thought he was going to ruin the damn thing, blah blah blah yada yada. Even Sam could see the kind of wounded expression on Dean's face and, since he knew how intense Dean could be about his baby, John's rant didn't seem to bode well for the night ahead.
John Winchester was clearly the kind of guy to find fault in just about everything, an insight that did absolutely nothing to quell Sam's nerves about this meeting.
After Sam had let them into the room, they all stood around awkwardly for a moment before Dean started taking off his jacket. Sam hadn't really wanted to do this, to meet John, not ever. But Dean had insisted, and this was the result, this unending awkwardness between two strangers who were supposedly family, but who were also supposedly former enemies of the intended fatality kind.
John was staring at him, a hard, intense stare that seemed to imply that if Dean wasn't there, Sam might already be dead. And Sam couldn't help wanting to bore right back into John's brain with a similarly challenging stare, but he settled for a little attitude in his posture and a calm look that said "try me, no really, try me, I'm not scared, seriously, just try me and see." Looking back and forth between the two men, Dean could probably see the tension in the room as a tangible thing hanging in the air. Maybe that's why he started introductions, though they were still rather awkward.
"Dad, um, meet Sam. And Sam, meet Dad." Dean said it like he half-expected Sam to call this guy "Dad" from the start.
“Doesn't he have a name, Dean?” He'd mostly meant it to be funny, but it came out sounding more annoyed than amused.
“The name’s John. But you already knew that.”
“Right … okay … well … I’m sure it’s nice to meet you … John.” He made no move to extend his hand for a handshake and neither did John.
“Hmm … you too … Sam.”
Dean's eyes were darting back and forth between the youngest and the oldest Winchester. Sam couldn't tell who Dean was worried would fire shots first, but it seemed like he was revving up to step in if he needed to, which he would probably need to do fairly quickly.
"So … Sam. I hear you were planning to kill me."
"I was, yes, but I'm not anymore, obviously. I was just stupid, I didn't know any better. And that was a lifetime ago."
"A few weeks seems like an awfully short lifetime to me."
"Well, it's behind me now. I'd hoped you could … leave it in the past where it belongs."
"We'll see."
"Okay then."
It wasn't that Sam was expecting John to welcome him with open arms. He wasn't. But couldn't the man trust Dean enough to think that Sam might just be someone worth giving a chance to?
As they sat down and started putting together ideas for how to use the Colt, in conjunction with some of Sam and Dean's earlier ideas and John's new ones, to bring down his Grigori family, Sam always seemed to be under suspicion by John, no matter what came out of his mouth. Even Dean seemed to be all the more on edge with John around, like he could see that his father didn't approve of Sam and that it was making him … reevaluate … his thoughts about whether or not Sam deserved his affection or even just his support.
The whole everyone-against-Sam dynamic felt way too familiar and it was really starting to piss Sam off.
"They're too strong when they're all together. We'd never be able to hold them all with only one gun." It was an obvious point to Sam, but apparently it needed to be said.
"What if we just drew the one out?" John, of course, was primarily focused on "The Demon" as if he was the only one that counted, when Sam knew the other two were just as vicious, if not quite as powerful.
"Azazel, you mean." Sam felt strange and a bit wary saying his father's prime Grigori name out loud, as if just the word itself could conjure him up, but he felt equally strange every time John and Dean talked about "The Demon," big T, big D, big bad. He might have been a bastard of a father, but the bastard did have a name.
"And leave the others? Wouldn't they want revenge?" Dean, seriously … why is that even a question? Sam couldn't help the way his face scrunched up. He knew he was starting to get testy and that it would spill out eventually, but he tried to contain himself a little longer.
"They'd have to find us first. An old hunting buddy of mine, Joseph - you remember Joseph, don't you, Dean - was always talking about using an old runic system of camouflage. Legend goes that it can hide someone from every kind of seeking and surveillance, magickal, technological, you name it. All-purpose camo. If you're wearing it, the only way anybody'll see you is with their own two eyes and even then, only if you're not seriously trying to hide."
"God, that would help a lot. Because we're all going to be in hot water, but I'm especially going to have issues with the clan since I'll be the traitor or whatever, ya know?"
"Well, I'm sure we'll try, Sam. But I don't know if this kind of camouflage would work on … your kind."
Sam's jaw clenched tight. He was so close to saying something, so fucking close. But then Dean was leading the conversation back to the planning, which Sam had to keep reminding himself was why they were here and why he needed to focus on something other than how much John Winchester hated his fucking guts.
"Maybe we could draw them out one at a time." It was a good suggestion, in theory, but knowing what Sam did, he also knew it would be hard to orchestrate.
"Even if we take them out in quick succession, the Grigori are all connected, especially within the clans and families. So whoever is left will know they have kinsmen who have been banished or destroyed."
"But they wouldn't have any reason yet to believe you did it, right?"
"Right …"
"Then if you showed up, saying that you'd felt one of them fall and … that you needed their protection … wouldn't they believe you?"
"Maybe … probably … but … I'd never really do that, so that would just make me look more suspicious."
"You could wait for them to come to you."
"Like at the apartment."
"Yeah."
"We could take them out when they come to see about you or whatever."
"Sounds fair." John was rejoining the discussion and Sam couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or not.
Largely ignoring John, Sam pressed on with the line of conversation he'd been tossing back and forth with Dean. "But remember, Meg's host was taken by force. I don't know about Kane, but I wouldn't risk trying to exorcize him. Meg, though, I can do."
Dean looked at him, his eyes narrowed, head cocked to one side.
"What?" Did that not make sense?
"What if Kane's host was taken by force?"
"He needs to be destroyed, Dean." Again, why is this even a question?
"But there might be a person in there, an innocent."
"That supposed innocent, if he exists, is totally insane at this point." You'd really rather risk leaving Kane alive than have one stray innocent die?
"And how do you know?" John's voice held that gruff edge of accusation that always seemed to make everything into some kind of challenge, some kind of battle of wills.
"During possession Grigori can put their host to sleep so they don't have any knowledge of what happened during the possession. They can also keep their host awake for every sick and twisted brutal thing. Meg, I know, puts that poor girl to sleep, because she likes to be able to draw from her original personality, which is why she's so sickly cheery all the fucking time, even when she's gutting people. Kane … he likes tormenting people too much … he hardly talks, so it's not like I've heard him talk about putting his host down, but … I know Kane. I'm betting that the first thing he did, when he got that host, was to break that little bickering voice in the back of his mind. If he wasn't a babbling loony or a psychopathic serial killer before he met Kane, he sure is now."
"And you'd know that first-hand, right?" John was implying a lot there, a lot about a whole lot of shit he knew nothing about. And Sam paused, trying to breathe through the urge to injure him, not for any Cloak, but just because he was an ass who thought he knew things when he had no fucking clue.
"I'm not a serial killer, John. I have to have at least one kill under my belt in order for 'killer' to apply, let alone 'serial killer'." He was surprised his voice had even come out half that calm.
"And I was going to be your first, wasn't I?"
"Yeah, you were, John." And sadly, the just motive of revenge that Dean had stripped away with your truths was quickly becoming just an anger and violence for their own sake kind of motive, and all because you're somehow incapable of even pretending to be nice to me.
"Sam … Dad … we've been over that. It's in the past."
"Is it, Dean?"
"Sam is not going to kill you!"
"No? He seems to have a hard-on for this Kane guy and other than the Colt, the only other option for him to get that fucker is to earn this Cloak thing that his demon daddy's gonna give him when he brings him my head on a platter."
Okay, this is bullshit! Sam waved his hands over his head, sick of being talked over as if he were a mute twelve year old. "Hi! Hello! Still here! If you really want to talk shop about how I'm going to stab you in the back, then please have the courtesy to do it out of earshot, you prick."
"Sam … " Dean was making that wide-eyed oh-god-what-are-you-doing-now face, which he apparently only made whenever his father was being an asshole and Sam was calling him on it. Whose fucking side are you on, Dean?
"Fine. I'm going to the diner." He grabbed his fleece, in a huff, storming over to the door. "I'll get the banishing info together. You know how to contact me if you need to, Dean."
Sam knew that he'd slammed the door behind him, but as he stormed out into the October air he didn't feel remotely bad about it. He'd done nothing to piss John off ,except exist, really. He hadn't done anything that said he was a bastard, that he was evil, that he was out to slice John open and bathe in his fucking blood or any other sick shit like that. He'd been reasonable the whole damn night and at every turn John had something to say, some snide comment, some slippery remark about how he was worthless or untrustworthy or no better than fucking Kane. How could he even say that? John Winchester knew absolutely nothing about who he was or what he'd been through. Who was John to judge him? Just because Sam had been raised a certain way? Even though he was working his ass off to undo all the damage that the Grigori had done to him and prevent all the damage they wanted to do to the Winchesters? And Dean? What the fuck, Dean?! Why did he always default back to his father, even when Sam was right, even when John was being a fucking prick?
It was like Sam was just an out of control little kid to Dean with John around.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12
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Author:
eboniorchidFull Header for the Series
Additional Series Info
Chapter 8: I Hear for You and Speak for Me
[004.Annoyed]
Dean called, from Colorado this time, but it wasn't an average check-in. No, Dean was amped up … and freaked out … and apparently in the car with his dad, which he seemed to hope Sam understood could potentially get awkward.
Apparently, that solution they'd been waiting for really had presented itself.
Dean had gone out to investigate the mysterious death of one of his father's contacts and, while he was looking for clues, it seemed that he had run into the elusive John Winchester, himself. One of those clues led them to some kind of magicked firearm with a long history of killing absolutely anything supernatural. They called it "The Colt," which seemed like a terribly boring name for what sounded like a pretty kickass weapon, but if it could really do what Dean was saying it could, then they might really have a chance of winning the upcoming battle.
John had wanted to separate again, for both their safety, because he knew "The Demon" was trying to track him down. Of course, this led to an … interesting … discussion … between John and Dean about Sam and his mission and his identity and his turning over a new leaf and fighting for the good guys. Dean didn't give him all gory the details, but Sam could tell that conversation had been … difficult … and that Dean had left out that whole part about how they used to have a lot of sex and how they were still kind of … seeing each other … where "seeing" was defined by high school socializing standards.
John was, rather unsurprisingly, reluctant to meet Sam and he was reluctant to believe what Dean was telling him, but Dean had convinced him to just come out to Massachusetts for a day or two and decide for himself. So, this call was Sam's two-day warning to arrange for a room and generally get everything as much in order as he could before he finally met John Winchester, the man who was the original top slot on his kill list.
They had decided to meet altogether at the motel, because it seemed easier and safer for all of them to meet someplace out of the way and out of the earshot of local busybodies and potential turncoats. So two days after Dean's call, Sam got them a room, paying strictly with cash, and put it under a fake name, just like Dean always did. Then he'd settled in to wait for them.
Well before there was any knock, Sam just felt the need to open the door. Dean was walking towards him with a taller, shaggier, darker-haired man beside him and it seemed like John, well, the man he guessed was John, was chiding Dean about something. As they approached, Sam strained to hear the tail end of the conversation, thinking it might have something to do with him. But it didn't. It just seemed to be John muttering away about how Dean needed to tune up the car, take better care of it, he wouldn't have given it to him if he thought he was going to ruin the damn thing, blah blah blah yada yada. Even Sam could see the kind of wounded expression on Dean's face and, since he knew how intense Dean could be about his baby, John's rant didn't seem to bode well for the night ahead.
John Winchester was clearly the kind of guy to find fault in just about everything, an insight that did absolutely nothing to quell Sam's nerves about this meeting.
After Sam had let them into the room, they all stood around awkwardly for a moment before Dean started taking off his jacket. Sam hadn't really wanted to do this, to meet John, not ever. But Dean had insisted, and this was the result, this unending awkwardness between two strangers who were supposedly family, but who were also supposedly former enemies of the intended fatality kind.
John was staring at him, a hard, intense stare that seemed to imply that if Dean wasn't there, Sam might already be dead. And Sam couldn't help wanting to bore right back into John's brain with a similarly challenging stare, but he settled for a little attitude in his posture and a calm look that said "try me, no really, try me, I'm not scared, seriously, just try me and see." Looking back and forth between the two men, Dean could probably see the tension in the room as a tangible thing hanging in the air. Maybe that's why he started introductions, though they were still rather awkward.
"Dad, um, meet Sam. And Sam, meet Dad." Dean said it like he half-expected Sam to call this guy "Dad" from the start.
“Doesn't he have a name, Dean?” He'd mostly meant it to be funny, but it came out sounding more annoyed than amused.
“The name’s John. But you already knew that.”
“Right … okay … well … I’m sure it’s nice to meet you … John.” He made no move to extend his hand for a handshake and neither did John.
“Hmm … you too … Sam.”
Dean's eyes were darting back and forth between the youngest and the oldest Winchester. Sam couldn't tell who Dean was worried would fire shots first, but it seemed like he was revving up to step in if he needed to, which he would probably need to do fairly quickly.
"So … Sam. I hear you were planning to kill me."
"I was, yes, but I'm not anymore, obviously. I was just stupid, I didn't know any better. And that was a lifetime ago."
"A few weeks seems like an awfully short lifetime to me."
"Well, it's behind me now. I'd hoped you could … leave it in the past where it belongs."
"We'll see."
"Okay then."
It wasn't that Sam was expecting John to welcome him with open arms. He wasn't. But couldn't the man trust Dean enough to think that Sam might just be someone worth giving a chance to?
As they sat down and started putting together ideas for how to use the Colt, in conjunction with some of Sam and Dean's earlier ideas and John's new ones, to bring down his Grigori family, Sam always seemed to be under suspicion by John, no matter what came out of his mouth. Even Dean seemed to be all the more on edge with John around, like he could see that his father didn't approve of Sam and that it was making him … reevaluate … his thoughts about whether or not Sam deserved his affection or even just his support.
The whole everyone-against-Sam dynamic felt way too familiar and it was really starting to piss Sam off.
"They're too strong when they're all together. We'd never be able to hold them all with only one gun." It was an obvious point to Sam, but apparently it needed to be said.
"What if we just drew the one out?" John, of course, was primarily focused on "The Demon" as if he was the only one that counted, when Sam knew the other two were just as vicious, if not quite as powerful.
"Azazel, you mean." Sam felt strange and a bit wary saying his father's prime Grigori name out loud, as if just the word itself could conjure him up, but he felt equally strange every time John and Dean talked about "The Demon," big T, big D, big bad. He might have been a bastard of a father, but the bastard did have a name.
"And leave the others? Wouldn't they want revenge?" Dean, seriously … why is that even a question? Sam couldn't help the way his face scrunched up. He knew he was starting to get testy and that it would spill out eventually, but he tried to contain himself a little longer.
"They'd have to find us first. An old hunting buddy of mine, Joseph - you remember Joseph, don't you, Dean - was always talking about using an old runic system of camouflage. Legend goes that it can hide someone from every kind of seeking and surveillance, magickal, technological, you name it. All-purpose camo. If you're wearing it, the only way anybody'll see you is with their own two eyes and even then, only if you're not seriously trying to hide."
"God, that would help a lot. Because we're all going to be in hot water, but I'm especially going to have issues with the clan since I'll be the traitor or whatever, ya know?"
"Well, I'm sure we'll try, Sam. But I don't know if this kind of camouflage would work on … your kind."
Sam's jaw clenched tight. He was so close to saying something, so fucking close. But then Dean was leading the conversation back to the planning, which Sam had to keep reminding himself was why they were here and why he needed to focus on something other than how much John Winchester hated his fucking guts.
"Maybe we could draw them out one at a time." It was a good suggestion, in theory, but knowing what Sam did, he also knew it would be hard to orchestrate.
"Even if we take them out in quick succession, the Grigori are all connected, especially within the clans and families. So whoever is left will know they have kinsmen who have been banished or destroyed."
"But they wouldn't have any reason yet to believe you did it, right?"
"Right …"
"Then if you showed up, saying that you'd felt one of them fall and … that you needed their protection … wouldn't they believe you?"
"Maybe … probably … but … I'd never really do that, so that would just make me look more suspicious."
"You could wait for them to come to you."
"Like at the apartment."
"Yeah."
"We could take them out when they come to see about you or whatever."
"Sounds fair." John was rejoining the discussion and Sam couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or not.
Largely ignoring John, Sam pressed on with the line of conversation he'd been tossing back and forth with Dean. "But remember, Meg's host was taken by force. I don't know about Kane, but I wouldn't risk trying to exorcize him. Meg, though, I can do."
Dean looked at him, his eyes narrowed, head cocked to one side.
"What?" Did that not make sense?
"What if Kane's host was taken by force?"
"He needs to be destroyed, Dean." Again, why is this even a question?
"But there might be a person in there, an innocent."
"That supposed innocent, if he exists, is totally insane at this point." You'd really rather risk leaving Kane alive than have one stray innocent die?
"And how do you know?" John's voice held that gruff edge of accusation that always seemed to make everything into some kind of challenge, some kind of battle of wills.
"During possession Grigori can put their host to sleep so they don't have any knowledge of what happened during the possession. They can also keep their host awake for every sick and twisted brutal thing. Meg, I know, puts that poor girl to sleep, because she likes to be able to draw from her original personality, which is why she's so sickly cheery all the fucking time, even when she's gutting people. Kane … he likes tormenting people too much … he hardly talks, so it's not like I've heard him talk about putting his host down, but … I know Kane. I'm betting that the first thing he did, when he got that host, was to break that little bickering voice in the back of his mind. If he wasn't a babbling loony or a psychopathic serial killer before he met Kane, he sure is now."
"And you'd know that first-hand, right?" John was implying a lot there, a lot about a whole lot of shit he knew nothing about. And Sam paused, trying to breathe through the urge to injure him, not for any Cloak, but just because he was an ass who thought he knew things when he had no fucking clue.
"I'm not a serial killer, John. I have to have at least one kill under my belt in order for 'killer' to apply, let alone 'serial killer'." He was surprised his voice had even come out half that calm.
"And I was going to be your first, wasn't I?"
"Yeah, you were, John." And sadly, the just motive of revenge that Dean had stripped away with your truths was quickly becoming just an anger and violence for their own sake kind of motive, and all because you're somehow incapable of even pretending to be nice to me.
"Sam … Dad … we've been over that. It's in the past."
"Is it, Dean?"
"Sam is not going to kill you!"
"No? He seems to have a hard-on for this Kane guy and other than the Colt, the only other option for him to get that fucker is to earn this Cloak thing that his demon daddy's gonna give him when he brings him my head on a platter."
Okay, this is bullshit! Sam waved his hands over his head, sick of being talked over as if he were a mute twelve year old. "Hi! Hello! Still here! If you really want to talk shop about how I'm going to stab you in the back, then please have the courtesy to do it out of earshot, you prick."
"Sam … " Dean was making that wide-eyed oh-god-what-are-you-doing-now face, which he apparently only made whenever his father was being an asshole and Sam was calling him on it. Whose fucking side are you on, Dean?
"Fine. I'm going to the diner." He grabbed his fleece, in a huff, storming over to the door. "I'll get the banishing info together. You know how to contact me if you need to, Dean."
Sam knew that he'd slammed the door behind him, but as he stormed out into the October air he didn't feel remotely bad about it. He'd done nothing to piss John off ,except exist, really. He hadn't done anything that said he was a bastard, that he was evil, that he was out to slice John open and bathe in his fucking blood or any other sick shit like that. He'd been reasonable the whole damn night and at every turn John had something to say, some snide comment, some slippery remark about how he was worthless or untrustworthy or no better than fucking Kane. How could he even say that? John Winchester knew absolutely nothing about who he was or what he'd been through. Who was John to judge him? Just because Sam had been raised a certain way? Even though he was working his ass off to undo all the damage that the Grigori had done to him and prevent all the damage they wanted to do to the Winchesters? And Dean? What the fuck, Dean?! Why did he always default back to his father, even when Sam was right, even when John was being a fucking prick?
It was like Sam was just an out of control little kid to Dean with John around.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12
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Tags:
- !fanfic,
- category: slash,
- challenge: 100moods,
- challenge: mini_nanowrimo,
- challenge: nanowrimo,
- challenge: undermistletoe,
- character: dean winchester,
- character: john winchester,
- character: meg masters,
- character: sam winchester,
- character: the demon,
- character: tom the demon,
- fandom: supernatural,
- fic series: idmuimy,
- fic universe: spn idkmuimy,
- genre: angst!fic,
- genre: au!fic,
- genre: challenge!fic,
- genre: dark!fic,
- genre: first-time!fic,
- genre: humor!fic,
- genre: hurt/comfort!fic,
- genre: plot!fic,
- genre: smut!fic,
- genre: wincest!fic,
- kink: incest,
- kink: manipulation,
- kink: non-consent,
- pairing: sam/dean,
- pairing: sam/kane,
- rating: nc-17,
- type: multi-chapter,
- warning: underage,
- warning: violence
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Date: 2006-12-12 10:20 pm (UTC)Still loving this ... wasn't sure I was going to read all of this tonight but I really don't think I can leave it unfinished.
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Date: 2006-12-12 10:33 pm (UTC)I'm so glad it's still pulling you in! Hope to hear more of your thoughts soon!
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Date: 2006-12-13 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 06:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-18 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 01:35 pm (UTC)