Working for the Mandroid (moonshayde) wrote,
Working for the Mandroid

  • Mood:

SPN Fic: Under the Blood Moon (Fate Comes for Him) [3/11]

Title: Under the Blood Moon (Fate Comes for Him)
Author: Moonshayde
Season: Four
Category: Angst, Drama, Humor
Spoilers: Spoilers through On the Head of a Pin
Summary: When a hunt to protect one of the seals goes wrong, Sam awakens to find he's a hot-shot lawyer and Dean is a mechanic. Now, as the end of days nears, he must navigate a foreign life to figure out what went wrong, and get back to who he should be even if it means sacrificing the ones he loves.
Word Count: Approx. 33,000
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: See previous posts

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2]

Chapter 3

"Thank you, Ms. Diego." Sam ended the call and tried to hail the nearest taxi. The blonde assistant wasn't too happy about the bond request, but he was certain she would carry it out anyway. At least Randy Pinto could enjoy a little bit of freedom before Sam left this world behind.

Sam took a deep breath and started onto phase two. He dialed Dean's number.

"Two calls in one day," Dean muttered. "What is this? The apocalypse?"

"That's not funny."


"Where are you?" Sam asked abruptly.

"The house. Where else would I be?"

"The house." Sam sighed. "Right."

"What about you?" He heard mutter something else, muffled and inaudible, before his voice cleared. "Lemme guess. You calling from Maui? No wait, Tahiti, right?"

Sam arched his eyebrows at the comment. Just how much money had he made off his high profile cases?

"Never mind any of that," Sam said. He glanced up and moved to the curb to allow some pedestrians to pass. He held the phone closer and lowered his voice. "Can you come by?"

"The penthouse?" Dean sounded confused.

"Penthouse." Sam rolled his eyes. Right. He kept forgetting he actually had a place to live. "Sure."

"Dude, tell me you didn't buy another house."

"What? No. Come to my penthouse."

"Which one?"

"Which one?" Sam sighed in exasperation. "Just come to Boston, Dean."


"Yes. Pack up and get up here. It's important."

"It's gonna take me a few days," Dean told him. "And my baby doesn't get good gas mileage."

"I'll pay the gas for you when you get over here. Just –" Sam pursed his lips, trying to light a fire under Dean without tipping him off to what needed to be done. "Just get here as fast as you can. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"All right." Dean's voice softened, the concern evident in his tone. "I'll get there like yesterday."

Sam nodded into the phone, hoping his appreciation carried the distance. "Thanks. I'll see you soon." He ended the call and sighed.

Sam didn't know how he would convince Dean that he needed a sample of his blood. There was always the elaborate blood donor scam they'd used a few times when they needed fresh blood for a few rituals, but even with Dean out of the hunter world, he would see right through that lie. Sam took some comfort in the fact he had at least a couple of days to come up with a story, but he still had to find the mirror first.

And then, he still had no idea what to do when he had everything.

He'd think of something. He always did.

* * * *

Sam felt a wave of relief wash over him as he entered the penthouse suite. He couldn't really lie to himself; coming back to do research in a comfy, well-kept apartment was a lot more enticing than some of the sketchy dumps that he and Dean frequented. Still, he had to admit that he felt a pang of longing for those trashy motels. At least he knew they were real. He could trust them.

He dumped his briefcase on the kitchen counter. As Sam paused to scan the apartment, he realized he didn't really know where to begin. The apartment seemed huge, and empty, and though Sam knew the sensation was ridiculous, he had never felt more adrift in all his life. He knew that he couldn't even call Ruby for advice. No Bobby. No Dean.

Sam was no stranger to being alone. Independent in spirit, he never minded striking out on his own. This time was different. This time the isolation had a bitter tone. He almost felt as if something terrible was lurking in the shadows, just out of reach, threatening to rip apart everything around him.

And despite the isolation, he couldn't shake the very real feeling that he was being watched.

Sam grabbed an apple from the counter and headed back to his office. It would take Dean a couple of days to get to Boston by car, which gave Sam more time than he knew what to do with. He needed to make the most of it. He had work to do.

Armed with a better idea of this alternate self, Sam hacked into his personal computer with ease. After he bypassed the password protection on his personal computer, he hunted through the files and searched for anything else that might help him make sense of his situation.

There really wasn't much to be found. Sam had the usual on his computer - finances, organized files on this and that, personal items, and while he did find a few bits on old purchases, he didn't seem to have anything important related to the mirror he was searching for.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. There had to be something more. There had to be more reasons.

Sam decided to give the antiquer another call. After a few rings, he sighed and shook his head. He opted not to leave another message since all that would do would anger the seller. And since he really needed to have that mirror back, he had to take as many precautions as necessary.

Sam tapped the desk and stared at the wall. Angels. This all seemed to link back to angels. If he could only figure out how and why, and why the demon was so hell-bent on this particular item. Was the mirror itself the seal? Or was there something more going on here? Sam couldn't place his finger on it, but something deep down inside of him told him that there was a larger issue at hand. He just feared that this issue would turn into something unstoppable.

He glanced down at his watch. He'd only been back for a few hours and he was already getting anxious. He needed to do something. He needed to get something done. He needed to know that Dean - the Dean he knew and grew up with - was okay. He couldn't find those answers sitting here in front of a desk.

With another heavy sigh, Sam flicked off the monitor.

A ghostly face peered at him through the dead monitor and leaned over his left shoulder, his lips moving but without sound.

Sam jerked and spun around. "Cas?"

Nothing but emptiness surrounded him.

Sam eased back into the seat despite the lingering tension in his shoulders. He could have sworn that he had seen Castiel. The angel had been standing there, hovering behind him, but draped in an unnatural silence that was even suspicious for his kind. But as much as Sam searched the room now, he couldn't find anything that would indicate Castiel had been in the room.

Maybe Sam was losing his mind. Maybe this all really was in his head.

He had changed a lot since Dean had passed. He swallowed hard and tried not to think of all he had done or how far he had come.

One thing he knew - he couldn't wait days and days for Dean to get here. He needed to get his hands on that mirror now. He needed Dean here now. He needed to get this nightmare over so he could go back to the way things were before.

He might not be one to dwell on the past, but he certainly wasn't one to live in a fantasy either.

[Chapter 4]
Tags: fic: spn gen

  • Hello World

    So wow. I have spent 2 years (more than that??) working on this one fanfic in my Playing the Angel series. I've been determined to finish and now I…

  • Half-fanfic/Half-original

    That is where my brain is right now. Fanfic Still obsessed with fic of the Supernatural variety, though I've been a little nostalgic for SG-1…

  • SPN DAY!

    I made this my own little Supernatural celebration day. I watched a few episodes, dusted off some WIPs, and just have been enjoying the universe in…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.