briarwood | FIC: Carnival of Souls (10/10)

Title: Carnival of Souls (Part Ten - Conclusion)
Rating: Adults Only (rating is for violence)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None (Dean, Sam, John - no 'cest, just the wonderful fucked-up family we all love)
Warnings: Some fairly gory details - see rating.
Summary: Pre-Series fic. Sam left his family to get away from the world of demons and ghosts. But when that world follows him to Stanford, Sam does the one thing he swore he'd never do: he calls his father.
Disclaimer: You don't seriously think I own Supernatural, do ya?

CARNIVAL OF SOULS

Part Ten

A Week Later

It was dark by the time they reached Palo Alto.

"Aren't you comin'?" Dean asked, his hand on the half-open door of the truck. Dean seemed back to his usual self. A new cast on his left arm was the only outward sign of all he'd been through. The scars, internal and external, would take longer to heal, but they weren't visible. John worried, a little, about how easily Dean wore that mask.

John blamed himself for Dean's injuries. He had been a fool to expect Dean to stay home like an invalid just because his wrist was broken. John had been too protective and he'd almost lost Dean because of that. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Dean was a man of action. He needed that.

"Dad?" Dean said again.

John realised he'd been silent for too long. He glanced over to his son, about to answer. Dean gestured toward the pathway ahead of them.

Sammy was there, crossing the road hand-in-hand with a girl. From inside the truck, John couldn't see her face, but she was young, her long hair bouncing as she walked without a care in the world. Sammy was smiling, relaxed and happy. They reached the other side of the road and stopped walking. Sam brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her.

"Sammy, you sly dog," Dean remarked.

Perhaps all Dean saw was little Sammy all growed up. John saw something else. The campus setting suited Sammy. He seemed at home here, and he seemed happy. Watching Sammy with the girl made John think of his first few dates with Mary: the days when marriage wasn't on either of their minds, the days when they began falling in love.

When Sam called Dean about a supernatural threat in Palo Alto, John thought it was a chance to bring Sammy back into the family, where he would be safe. Watching his son, he understood, finally, that there was more than one kind of safety. Sammy called; John could take comfort from that. He was still John's son. The work he did on the hunt was very good. In his heart, Sammy was a hunter. It wasn't the life John wanted for either of his boys. Sammy deserved this time, this oasis. It would be over soon enough. The signs were already building for those who knew what to look for. It would be a few years before the storm, but it was coming.

Sam and the girl parted company. She stood on the path, watching for a moment as Sam walked away. Then she headed into the nearest building.

"Go ahead, Dean," John said.

"He'll want to see you, Dad."

"I said, go."

Dean followed Sam until he turned the corner out of sight of the truck. They'd parked a few blocks away from Sam's building: that seemed to be where Sam was headed.

Dean called after him. "Sammy!"

Sam whirled around. "Dean! Oh, my god. Are you okay?"

Dean hurried to catch up with his brother. He held up his left hand, showing off the cast. "I'm stuck with this for another month, but yeah, I'm awesome." He grinned. "Nice chick, by the way. Smokin'. I didn't know you had it in you."

Sam glared at him. "Are you gonna tell me what happened? Why haven't you returned my calls? Dean..."

There had been no cell signal at Gretchen's place. Dean got Sam's voicemails only when they left, and by then they were on the road to Palo Alto so he hadn't called. "Dude, I told you I'd be back for my car. What's the problem?" He fell into step beside Sam, heading toward Sam's building.

Sam glanced around, checking no one was near. "Dean, at the carnival, that thing..."

Dean hadn't wanted the reminder. "It was you. Yeah. Demons lie, Sam. It was just screwing with my head."

"Did you kill it?"

Dean understood, then. "No, Sammy. I thought it was you. I thought you were possessed. Dad shot it."

Sam nodded. "He saw me outside, so he knew it wasn't me. Hell, Dean, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone in there."

Dean shook his head. "It took both of us to screw this one up, Sam. It turned out alright, though. Where's my car?"

Sam grinned and tossed the keys into the air for Dean to catch. "Parked behind my dorm. Where's Dad?"

Dean hesitated, then lied. "He's planning our next job. Look, Sam, I've got to go." They were outside Sam's building now and Dean glimpsed the Impala in the lot behind the building. Safe and sound. I missed you, baby.

"Dean..." Sam began, but said nothing more. He didn't need to say it. Dean could see it all in his look. Was the hunt the only reason Dean had come? Were they even still brothers?

Damn it, if Dad would just talk to Sammy, they might still have a chance to be a family again.

But all Dean said was, "See you around, Sammy."

"Yeah."

"Stay in touch, okay. I'll mail you that Zeppelin poster."

Sam smiled. "You do and I'll burn it. Zeppelin sucks."

"Zeppelin rules! You wouldn't know good music if it bit you in your ass."

"Whatever, dude." Sam looked like he wanted to add something, but he just smiled again. "See ya." He walked away.

See ya, Sammy. Dean climbed into his car and rummaged around for Zeppelin IV. He turned the volume up loud enough to drown his thoughts. He started the car and drove out to rendezvous with John.

Tomorrow, they would be in Oregon.

Sam unlocked the door to his room. The room was empty; not unexpected on a Saturday night.

In the drawer beside his bed, there was a small collection of photographs: the only things of his family Sam packed when he left two years earlier. He took the photos out, handling them carefully, like precious china.

The first was taken when Sam was thirteen. It was a tiny picture from one of those mall photo-booths. Dean had needed a photo for something – a fake ID, probably, though Sam couldn't remember – and they'd taken an extra strip of them both, playing around in front of the camera. This one showed Sam pulling a face at the camera while Dean made rude gestures behind his back. They were both in high spirits that day and the photograph was one of the least crazy stunts they'd pulled.

The second picture was much older. It was taken by Pastor Jim; they'd spent Christmas with him when Sam was three years old. In the photograph, John sat in an easy chair beside the Christmas tree, with Sam on his knee. Dean was on the floor, not looking at the camera, but studying the multi-tooled pocket knife that had been John's Christmas gift to him. John was smiling at the camera, the odd, sad smile that said so much about him.

The last photograph also showed John's smile, but this was very different. Sam had no idea who took this picture of his parents, but the photo showed them relaxed and happy, both laughing at the camera. Sam had never seen his dad smile like that in real life. Only in this picture.

He replaced the first two photos in the drawer, but propped the third up beside his bed. He really should buy a frame for the photograph. He needed to remember that there was a reason his dad did all this.

The ring of his cell phone shattered the quiet of the room. Sam grabbed for the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sammy."

"Dad?" Sam sat up, startled.

"I wanted to say well done. Dean told me your groundwork was excellent."

Sam knew better than to take a compliment from his father at face value. The implied criticism – the groundwork was good, but... – shot home. Sam kept his tone even and waited for the other boot to drop. "Thanks."

John didn't disappoint him. "But you left Dean alone and he could have been killed. There's no room for mistakes in this job, Sammy."

Great. Just fucking great. "Dad, if you just called to – "

"I called," John interrupted, "to make something clear to you. I meant what I said two years ago, Sammy. If you're not with us all the way, you can't be part of this family. You would put us at risk, and what happened last week should prove that to you."

The words were a punch in Sam's gut. He didn't answer.

"All or nothing, Sammy. So don't call again. Not me, or Dean."

Sam turned off his phone without speaking again.

~ END ~

Also posted on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2899

I referenced quite a lot of music in this story; certainly more than I usually do in fic. For anyone interested, I put together a mix of the music associated with this story - either songs used within the text or the ones I used as "mood music" for certain chapters.

For reasons that I hope are obvious, I can't put music downloads in an unlocked post. I've got the mix posted here in my journal or here in rockthecassette (locked - you need to join the comm to download).

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

thank you for the music and the fic!

I've downloaded the mix and the story to read while playing the music for it. Hope that's ok?

Will comment when complete but have to say thank you...the mix is inspiring! :-)

You're welcome! I hope you enjoyed the story!

Wow. What an awesome and amazing fic.

Beautiful explanation for the not talking for two years, and a John that is believable.

Fantastically done.

*adds to memories*

Thanks so much for commenting!

The not-talking thing kind of dictated the ending; I'm a sucker for a happy ending but in this case I couldn't see a way to do it. And John's such a stiff-necked bastard...I love him and I hate him, you know?

Thanks again!

I really enjoyed this.

FIC: Carnival of Souls (10/10)

CARNIVAL OF SOULS

Part Ten

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