“Where’s Dean?” Sam said, suddenly panicking. There was something in him; that was clear. He could feel its claws inside him now, feel it get angry as the words (Latin, Sam recognized—of all the things Dad wanted him to learn, he liked learning that one) of the chant grew louder and more vehement. But if it was in him, what had happened to Dean? He didn’t want it to get Dean… “Dad,” he said, louder, “Where’s Dean?”
“Dean’s fine, buddy. He… took care of some business for me, and now he’s resting, don’t worry—”
“Can’t have him nearby when we get this thing out of you,” said Aidan, his ugly face suddenly appearing next to Dad’s. “He’s prob’ly too old to get took, but best not to risk it; nearest kid could—”
There was a violent stirring and a curse from Aidan and “I will end you” from Dad, and Sam was afraid Dad would drop him to beat up Aidan, but suddenly a shriek came from inside him, and he was flailing wildly, screaming screams that tore his throat, and Dad held him crushingly tight from behind, stumbled to his feet and held Sam belly outwards, toward the fire whose heat scalded Sam’s legs, and the chant had become shouts, and Sam felt his belly tear open, but not really because he looked down and it was whole, normal except for the green smoke pouring from his belly button that formed into the shape of a cartoon devil, horns, barbed tail and all, and the flames leaped up to grab the devil and it hissed and screamed and sparked and there was a little explosion, and everything got fainter and farther away as dad held him, so tight, crushed him and said “Oh, thank God. My boy. My boy…” as Sam slipped away.
He woke again to Dean’s voice, cracking with puberty. Sam opened his eyes to the dim outline of Dean, but he seemed a weird shape, and was squirming violently; fear clenched Sam again as Dad laid him down next to his brother.
“So he’s OK?” Dean was saying. His voice bristled with resentment. “You didn’t have to tie me up; I’m old enough, and I was the one who killed the first one—”
“Shut it, Dean,” said John, but with no heat. “I’ll untie you now. Just be quiet so Sam can rest. He’s worn out.”
“So would you be, if you’d had an imp in you all day,” Dean muttered, but he quieted abruptly when Dad turned toward him, and Sam heard the whispers of rope being untied.
“You boys stay in the tent. I know this weird camp gives you the creeps, but the town set it up to deal with this imp problem. Used to be a Bible camp, so I guess it had the right energy—”
“Dad,” said Sam suddenly. He was remembering an argument in the car, yesterday, or the day before. He wanted to go back to school. They’d left his last school so soon, and Dad had promised that the next town would have a school he could go to, but— “I don’t want to go to school in this town. Can we go to a different town soon?”
There was a short silence, as Dean scrambled out of his untied bonds and sleeping bag and moved closer to Sam, peering into his face. When Dad spoke, Sam was surprised to hear his voice crack.
“Don’t worry, son. By breakfast tomorrow this town will just be a bad memory. Come Monday you’ll be in school, somewhere much better. I promise.”
“You can write a hell of an essay about how you spent Halloween,” joked Dean.
“I hate Halloween,” Sam said reflexively.
He really did. But right now, with the memories of the thing inside him flitting away like moths after he turned off a lamp, it seemed OK. He liked sleeping in a tent, better than gross hotel rooms, and for once he knew Dad was near and all right, because he could hear him distantly, shouting at Aidan, and it was better than a lullaby, somehow. Dean was all right. Sam was all right too, he guessed, as he drifted in and out listening to Dean brag about how he’d killed the imp; he was faster than Aidan and even Dad and the blessed arrows had worked just like the town pastor had said they would, and what a shot! Sam should let Dean show him how to shoot the grown-up sized bow as soon as he was tall enough… it was better than trick or treat…
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carisma_sensei
FILLED: Better Than Trick or Treat, part 2
Date: 2015-11-02 09:00 pm (UTC)“Dean’s fine, buddy. He… took care of some business for me, and now he’s resting, don’t worry—”
“Can’t have him nearby when we get this thing out of you,” said Aidan, his ugly face suddenly appearing next to Dad’s. “He’s prob’ly too old to get took, but best not to risk it; nearest kid could—”
There was a violent stirring and a curse from Aidan and “I will end you” from Dad, and Sam was afraid Dad would drop him to beat up Aidan, but suddenly a shriek came from inside him, and he was flailing wildly, screaming screams that tore his throat, and Dad held him crushingly tight from behind, stumbled to his feet and held Sam belly outwards, toward the fire whose heat scalded Sam’s legs, and the chant had become shouts, and Sam felt his belly tear open, but not really because he looked down and it was whole, normal except for the green smoke pouring from his belly button that formed into the shape of a cartoon devil, horns, barbed tail and all, and the flames leaped up to grab the devil and it hissed and screamed and sparked and there was a little explosion, and everything got fainter and farther away as dad held him, so tight, crushed him and said “Oh, thank God. My boy. My boy…” as Sam slipped away.
He woke again to Dean’s voice, cracking with puberty. Sam opened his eyes to the dim outline of Dean, but he seemed a weird shape, and was squirming violently; fear clenched Sam again as Dad laid him down next to his brother.
“So he’s OK?” Dean was saying. His voice bristled with resentment. “You didn’t have to tie me up; I’m old enough, and I was the one who killed the first one—”
“Shut it, Dean,” said John, but with no heat. “I’ll untie you now. Just be quiet so Sam can rest. He’s worn out.”
“So would you be, if you’d had an imp in you all day,” Dean muttered, but he quieted abruptly when Dad turned toward him, and Sam heard the whispers of rope being untied.
“You boys stay in the tent. I know this weird camp gives you the creeps, but the town set it up to deal with this imp problem. Used to be a Bible camp, so I guess it had the right energy—”
“Dad,” said Sam suddenly. He was remembering an argument in the car, yesterday, or the day before. He wanted to go back to school. They’d left his last school so soon, and Dad had promised that the next town would have a school he could go to, but— “I don’t want to go to school in this town. Can we go to a different town soon?”
There was a short silence, as Dean scrambled out of his untied bonds and sleeping bag and moved closer to Sam, peering into his face. When Dad spoke, Sam was surprised to hear his voice crack.
“Don’t worry, son. By breakfast tomorrow this town will just be a bad memory. Come Monday you’ll be in school, somewhere much better. I promise.”
“You can write a hell of an essay about how you spent Halloween,” joked Dean.
“I hate Halloween,” Sam said reflexively.
He really did. But right now, with the memories of the thing inside him flitting away like moths after he turned off a lamp, it seemed OK. He liked sleeping in a tent, better than gross hotel rooms, and for once he knew Dad was near and all right, because he could hear him distantly, shouting at Aidan, and it was better than a lullaby, somehow. Dean was all right. Sam was all right too, he guessed, as he drifted in and out listening to Dean brag about how he’d killed the imp; he was faster than Aidan and even Dad and the blessed arrows had worked just like the town pastor had said they would, and what a shot! Sam should let Dean show him how to shoot the grown-up sized bow as soon as he was tall enough… it was better than trick or treat…
It really was. This part was better, any day.