Status: I don't update as often as I should. I am sorry.
House of the Unholy
One.
Sam awoke with a start from one of her countless nightmares, all the same: Dean dies, she's right there, but she can't save him. She just lies there screaming his name, fighting to get to him and for what? He always dies at the end of her dream.
She wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and pulled her long, wavy blonde hair into a ponytail. She rarely brushed it so it was always in tangles. She pulled Dean's baggy tee shirt off and tossed it onto the floor before quickly pulling on a sports bra, a pair of running shorts, and her sneakers. She found a pen and scrap of paper to leave a note that she was going running on the table then slipped out of the room without waking Dean.
Sam ran as though her life depended on it – and in a way, it did. If she wasn't fast enough to get away she would die, if she wasn't fast enough to get to Dean then he could die. Which was worse she honestly couldn't say.
Sam had no idea how she was going to look her brother in the eye after the argument they had the night before and she really didn't want to think about it. In fact, she didn't want to think about her brother at all because that somehow always led to her imagining her being the one of the random girls that he went off with each time the sun went down.
When it had started she couldn't recall, but she had long since stopped trying to halt the thoughts that ran through her mind. At this point she was focusing all of her energy on not acting upon the fantasies she daydreamed up.
The more she thought about it the more conflicted she became. All she could do was run faster and faster in a feeble attempt to burn off all the tension and confusion that kept building up inside her. Sam kept running even when she thought her legs might collapse underneath her; she refused to stop for anything until she was physically forced to stop by colliding into something. A something which she soon discovered was the brother she was running to forget about.
Both scrambled to stand up and Dean was the first on his feet. He reached out a hand to help his little sibling up and she took it, but not to steady herself. She gripped tightly before yanking her brother closer and landing a blow to his stomach. She pulled her arm back then launched it forward in a punch to his jaw, but Dean caught her hand before she could do any damage, obviously catching on to the fact that she was in a sparring mood. It had been months since they'd sparred together and he'd been trying to talk her into it for weeks.
Dean, still griping tightly to Sam's hand that he'd caught mid punch, twisted her arm around her back. Sam gritted her teeth in pain, but refused to give up or back down. She used her free arm to elbow him in the ribs while simultaneously driving her heel into his shin, distracting him enough to escape from his grip. Without giving him even enough time to register that she had freed herself, she turned and landed a skillful kick to his jaw that knocked him back a few steps. He raised his hands in surrender.
“Damn, Sammy. I never taught you that.”
“I don't always need you to teach me everything.” She snapped, rolling her shoulder out while he ran his hand over his sore jaw.
Dean couldn't help but truly look at Sam. She was so much more fit than he could ever remember her being. When had she changed? When had she stopped being the little girl he'd raised all by himself?
“Stop it!” Sam ordered, folding her arms over her stomach, hiding as much of her skin as she could. As much as she wanted her brother's attention, she didn't want him giving it to her that way. She felt like he was looking for faults, for imperfections that he could pester her about. She noticed they were in the parking lot of the motel they were staying at and briefly wondered when her body had betrayed her by running back to this place.
“What the fuck is that?” Dean hissed, catching sight of the tattoo on her chest, right where her heart was. It matched his perfectly, and was only meant to be protection for herself, a symbol that prevented a demon from possessing her.
“You know exactly what it is, Dean. It was only a matter of time before you found out, I suppose I should have just told you about it. I got it about two months ago. The necklace with the charm on it was too risky. This is the only sure fire way to make sure I don't get possessed, you must understand that.” Sam pleaded with her brother, being sincere to avoid the impending argument.
Dean roughly gripped her arm and drug her into their current motel room, shaking his head. “How dare you go behind my back and do something like this? You're – “
“I'm what, Dean? I'm not the little girl you used to tuck into bed every night anymore! I'm seventeen years old and I don't need to be babied. I get it – “
“No you don't, Sam! You think you understand all of these things, but you just don't. I know you aren't a little girl anymore, it's been difficult not to notice that. I just...” Dean faltered, his eyes flitting everywhere in the room except his little sister.
“What? What is it that I just don't understand? Why don't you explain it to me?” Sam snapped, fuming, anger radiating from every pore in her body.
“He said I have to protect you. From the moment mom died he said that everything I ever did had to be for you, about protecting you. You're all I have, Sammy. I can't let anything happen to you. I just can't.” Dean pulled his little sister into a hug before she could protest. Sam sighed and rested her head on her brother's shoulder, her fingers splayed out across his chest, tracing over the design of the tattoo he had, identical to her own, in the same spot on his chest where she'd gotten hers. She knew the design by heart. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, longing filling up every inch of her. She wished with everything she had that she could kiss him. Dean's lips pressed to her forehead and her breath hitched in her throat. “Go take a shower. You smell.”
Sam rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her brother as she made her way over to the bathroom. “When are we leaving?” She called out, leaving the bathroom door cracked open just a tiny bit.
“Tomorrow.”
She wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and pulled her long, wavy blonde hair into a ponytail. She rarely brushed it so it was always in tangles. She pulled Dean's baggy tee shirt off and tossed it onto the floor before quickly pulling on a sports bra, a pair of running shorts, and her sneakers. She found a pen and scrap of paper to leave a note that she was going running on the table then slipped out of the room without waking Dean.
Sam ran as though her life depended on it – and in a way, it did. If she wasn't fast enough to get away she would die, if she wasn't fast enough to get to Dean then he could die. Which was worse she honestly couldn't say.
Sam had no idea how she was going to look her brother in the eye after the argument they had the night before and she really didn't want to think about it. In fact, she didn't want to think about her brother at all because that somehow always led to her imagining her being the one of the random girls that he went off with each time the sun went down.
When it had started she couldn't recall, but she had long since stopped trying to halt the thoughts that ran through her mind. At this point she was focusing all of her energy on not acting upon the fantasies she daydreamed up.
The more she thought about it the more conflicted she became. All she could do was run faster and faster in a feeble attempt to burn off all the tension and confusion that kept building up inside her. Sam kept running even when she thought her legs might collapse underneath her; she refused to stop for anything until she was physically forced to stop by colliding into something. A something which she soon discovered was the brother she was running to forget about.
Both scrambled to stand up and Dean was the first on his feet. He reached out a hand to help his little sibling up and she took it, but not to steady herself. She gripped tightly before yanking her brother closer and landing a blow to his stomach. She pulled her arm back then launched it forward in a punch to his jaw, but Dean caught her hand before she could do any damage, obviously catching on to the fact that she was in a sparring mood. It had been months since they'd sparred together and he'd been trying to talk her into it for weeks.
Dean, still griping tightly to Sam's hand that he'd caught mid punch, twisted her arm around her back. Sam gritted her teeth in pain, but refused to give up or back down. She used her free arm to elbow him in the ribs while simultaneously driving her heel into his shin, distracting him enough to escape from his grip. Without giving him even enough time to register that she had freed herself, she turned and landed a skillful kick to his jaw that knocked him back a few steps. He raised his hands in surrender.
“Damn, Sammy. I never taught you that.”
“I don't always need you to teach me everything.” She snapped, rolling her shoulder out while he ran his hand over his sore jaw.
Dean couldn't help but truly look at Sam. She was so much more fit than he could ever remember her being. When had she changed? When had she stopped being the little girl he'd raised all by himself?
“Stop it!” Sam ordered, folding her arms over her stomach, hiding as much of her skin as she could. As much as she wanted her brother's attention, she didn't want him giving it to her that way. She felt like he was looking for faults, for imperfections that he could pester her about. She noticed they were in the parking lot of the motel they were staying at and briefly wondered when her body had betrayed her by running back to this place.
“What the fuck is that?” Dean hissed, catching sight of the tattoo on her chest, right where her heart was. It matched his perfectly, and was only meant to be protection for herself, a symbol that prevented a demon from possessing her.
“You know exactly what it is, Dean. It was only a matter of time before you found out, I suppose I should have just told you about it. I got it about two months ago. The necklace with the charm on it was too risky. This is the only sure fire way to make sure I don't get possessed, you must understand that.” Sam pleaded with her brother, being sincere to avoid the impending argument.
Dean roughly gripped her arm and drug her into their current motel room, shaking his head. “How dare you go behind my back and do something like this? You're – “
“I'm what, Dean? I'm not the little girl you used to tuck into bed every night anymore! I'm seventeen years old and I don't need to be babied. I get it – “
“No you don't, Sam! You think you understand all of these things, but you just don't. I know you aren't a little girl anymore, it's been difficult not to notice that. I just...” Dean faltered, his eyes flitting everywhere in the room except his little sister.
“What? What is it that I just don't understand? Why don't you explain it to me?” Sam snapped, fuming, anger radiating from every pore in her body.
“He said I have to protect you. From the moment mom died he said that everything I ever did had to be for you, about protecting you. You're all I have, Sammy. I can't let anything happen to you. I just can't.” Dean pulled his little sister into a hug before she could protest. Sam sighed and rested her head on her brother's shoulder, her fingers splayed out across his chest, tracing over the design of the tattoo he had, identical to her own, in the same spot on his chest where she'd gotten hers. She knew the design by heart. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, longing filling up every inch of her. She wished with everything she had that she could kiss him. Dean's lips pressed to her forehead and her breath hitched in her throat. “Go take a shower. You smell.”
Sam rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her brother as she made her way over to the bathroom. “When are we leaving?” She called out, leaving the bathroom door cracked open just a tiny bit.
“Tomorrow.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Yeah, I dunno.xoxo Chandler