liptonrm_fic: (spn samprayer-sinfulintention)
[personal profile] liptonrm_fic
Title: Keep Calm and Carry On
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this it probably wouldn't be nearly as successful as it is, which is saying something. To Kripke and Warner Brothers go all of the credit and blame.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: A coda to 5x03 with spoilers through that episode.

Summary: Sam doesn't know what to do.


The first thing Sam did the morning after was to get the hell out of Oklahoma. He resorted to hot-wiring some poor schlubs rental, the need to getoutgetoutget out shouting down any newly-reaffirmed reluctance he might have to dabble on the darker side of the moral line. He was Lucifer’s vessel, a little grand theft auto wasn’t going to matter much, in the eternal scheme of things.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white. A low level hum of anger droned in the back of his head. His breath came slow and deliberate through his locked-tight chest.

Finally he was face-to-face with the thing that he’d always known was lurking down that last, dark, unexplored valley in his mind. It all made perfect sense. Why else would Ruby ( who he’d trusted ) have worked so hard and risked her life if not to be on Lucifer’s right hand? Why else would Azazel ( who he’d hated ) have taken such a personal interest?

Somehow he’d always known that this was how it was going to end.

Sam snarled. The steering wheel swerved under his hands and the car jolted. But he didn’t see the world jerk around him, didn’t register the vulgar gesture thrown his way by the driver going the other way. All he could see was Dad’s face, the way he’d looked at Sam on that last morning. Dad had known even then what Sam was going to become.

Dean should’ve left him dead. God, if only Dean had just let him die.

A harsh laugh tore out of Sam’s throat. Dean wasn’t going to make that mistake again. He couldn’t get away from Sam fast enough. Yeah, he’d made his opinion of Sam completely clear.

Gravel crunched under the car’s wheels as Sam pulled off the highway into a rundown rest area. He popped the door open and slid his legs out but he didn’t stand up. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his legs and hands drooping over his knees. His heart raced and he couldn’t breathe.

He lifted his hands up and stared at them, turning them over and over as the sun shined down. He’d touched Jess, the real Jess, with those hands, beautiful and alive. He’d held tight to his father’s and his brother’s lifeless bodies and felt their warmth drain away. He’d killed without mercy or remorse, all with the same pair of hands.

He took a deep breath and held it for a long second before letting it shudder out. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t fulfill his twisted destiny ever again. There had to be a way to beat the odds.

If there wasn’t, if he fell yet again, then he could only hope that Dean was finally strong enough to perform his own destiny. And if Dean wouldn’t then Michael would.

Sam tilted his head and blinked up at the sky. He needed to relearn how to pray.


~~~
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