tamingthemuse | authoressnebula, #171, Untitled, 1/1, PG-13, Post 5x07

Title: Untitled
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #171 - Bastard for

tamingthemuse
Spoilers: Post 5x07
Fandom: Supernatural Gen
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Okay, so maybe Dean was right about witches. Small little Halloween type of ficlet post 5x07.

Okay, Sam admitted to himself, maybe Dean was right about witches.

He hadn't wanted to bring himself to agree with his brother, because despite Patrick not breaking the rules, Patrick hadn't been out for their blood. Patrick had been honestly almost relieved when Sam had won the years back. That, or he'd thought that Sam was just that desperate and pathetic and deserved to be pitied, because by that point, Sam was near tears. His mind had helpfully supplied hundreds of ways that Dean could be dying, and okay, he'd been desperate and pathetic and pitiable. But Patrick had given them back to him fair and square, and he'd truly seemed happy about it. So Sam had suggested that perhaps witches weren't all bad: they had to play by specific rules, same as other supernatural beings.

Dean had immediately said no, absolutely not. Not only had he put Dean's life on the line, but he'd all but choked Sam out, a fact that had only made Dean angrier when Sam had told him everything from the game. Still, Sam had been willing to forgive and forget. God knew Sam was definitely in the place of humility.

But as of right now, he was pretty certain that Dean had been right about witches, was still right about witches, and would always be right about witches. He'd even be willing to admit as much to Dean.

That was only if Dean showed before they started the spell.

The stone altar beneath him was uncomfortable to say the least. The blonde had offered to get him a blanket to cover him, maybe even a pillow, but the brunette had told her friend no, his comfort didn't matter, and for god's sakes, they were going to bleed him dry and carve him up and then bottle up his soul. His comfort wasn't on the list of things to do.

“Sorry,” Blondie said when he tested the chains again. Still wouldn't give, even though he'd been pretty certain that the left hand one wasn't secured to the altar all the way. “We can't take them off: you understand why, right?”

She honestly sounded apologetic about it, too. “Yeah, I think I know why you can't take them off,” Sam said, trying to remind himself not to piss them off with sarcasm. They were young women, possibly teenagers, messing with something they had no right to mess in.

Plus, they were women, and men on a general basis were very good at pissing women off. Which was the last thing Sam wanted at the moment.

“Melissa, god, shut up,” the third girl said. Her hair was jet-black, but there was an undercurrent of blonde, giving it a punk-goth look. Melissa winced and backed away. “Seriously, what did Britney tell you? We don't care about his comfort.”

“Both of you shut the hell up,” Britney the brunette snapped. The other two girls jumped and fell silent. “I can't think when you're both yammering in my ear.”

“Look, I don't think you guys should be messing with this stuff,” Sam tried, giving his best 'good cop' smile that swore he was harmless to anyone who looked. Melissa smiled sweetly in return, the third girl seemed to waver a little bit, but Britney? Britney's gaze only turned frostier.

“You trying to call me a stupid kid? Seriously, in the position you're in? Seriously?”

He'd pissed her off. Fantastic. And Dean was still nowhere in sight. “I didn't say that at all,” Sam soothed. “This type of magic, whatever you hope it's going to do for you, it won't. It'll only backfire. There's people much older and more experienced than you that get hurt doing this.” Carefully he tried the left hand chain again. It felt like it gave a little, then settled and wouldn't move. He could work it, but he needed time, and he needed to be uninterrupted.

Considering the girls wouldn't leave him alone? Yeah, it wasn't going to happen.

Britney tossed him a smug look. “Yeah, well, I'm not gonna make those mistakes. I'm gonna do it right. Stephanie, bring me the candles. I think we're almost ready.”

Stephanie shrugged her shoulders like she didn't care and headed for the other side of the room, her blonde and black hair bouncing on her shoulders. Melissa stayed almost frozen beside Sam, her lip swollen from biting it. Britney glared at her and jerked her head towards Stephanie's retreating form. “You can help carry one,” Britney said condescendingly. Melissa nodded eagerly, then sent a sympathetic look towards Sam.

Good intentioned, really, but Sam knew where good intentions got a person. God did he know.

The candles were in place quick enough, and Sam could feel his heart start to race faster. Melissa and Stephanie obviously didn't know their way around magic, but the spell Britney was doing looked to be the black magic stuff, nothing under the Wiccan law. And each step was done exactly as it was supposed to, which meant she knew what she was doing.

And that was a dangerous combo right there.

“Now, everyone carefully step around him until we form the triangle of power,” Britney commanded. “I'll chant, then each of you lights a candle, in order from Steph, then Melissa, then me. After that, we take the knives and make the incisions. Don't do them until after I give further instructions.”

Yeah, she knew what she was doing. “Wait, okay, just...just wait a minute,” Sam started to plead, but Britney ignored him and began to chant. Stephanie lit her candle, and Melissa began to light hers. Her fingers shook, though, and appealing to her was the last chance Sam had, because Dean was nowhere in sight and he was out of options, out of time. God he needed his brother, and the same panic from the poker game came rushing forward.

“Melissa, listen to me,” he said, close to begging and not even caring. “Please don't do this. You're not this person, you know that.” Melissa bit her lip but continued trying to get her candle to light. She finally got it to light, even though her hands shook as she held it. “You don't want to do this, I know,” he said as calmly as he could, and Britney slapped his leg hard as she lit hers.

It didn't matter. Whether it was the slap that made her jump or Sam's words, Melissa jerked, and the candle fell from her hands and hit the floor. The light went out, thankfully, and didn't catch fire.

Relief was short-lived. “You screwed up the order!” Britney screeched, but Sam could suddenly feel his very breath being stolen from him. He gasped and tried to buck out of the restraints, tried to reach for his throat and open it so he could breathe, but he was still held down like a bug. He remembered Patrick pulling his lungs and throat shut, even as his mind filled with panic when he'd been informed of Dean's imminent death. His vision was graying out at the edges, and all he could hear were the screeches of the brunette at his feet.

The pressure on his chest lifted and Sam gasped in air at last, his eyes burning as he gulped in breaths. “You bastard!” Britney shouted, and Sam didn't even have to look to know who was being graced with that title.

Dean.

“Yeah, well, you bitch,” Dean's voice said, and Sam could almost see his brother with his gun raised. “Step away from the candle remains, girls.”

“The spell's already in effect,” Britney said, full of confidence. “You can't stop-”

“Oh, you mean the bowl of herbs upstairs with the shining crystals?” When Dean spoke next, he was closer, and Sam could hear the humorless smirk through his tone. “Yeah, they're not there anymore.”

“I can't believe you destroyed those,” Britney seethed. “Do you know how much they cost?”

“I can't believe you took my brother,” Dean shot back, and his voice dropped suddenly to low and dangerous. Sam finally opened his eyes and found Dean standing right beside him, gun raised towards the girls. “Do you know how much it's gonna cost you?”

And as much as Sam really wanted to watch them get their asses kicked, they were still girls. Still human. “Dean, no,” he said, surprised to find his voice raspy. “Just...let them go.”

Dean glanced down at him for a brief moment, pursed his lips, then turned back to the girls. “Fine. You're all free to go,” he said. His right hand extended towards Britney, other hand still firmly wrapped around his gun. “After I have your pendant, sweetheart.”

Source of her newfound power: Sam had forgotten that, in the midst of worrying about his life. Britney looked livid, but she finally yanked the pendant from her neck when Dean cocked the gun. “I hope something eats you,” she spat, and flung it at his face. Then she stalked off, Stephanie in leery tow.

Melissa went after them, but paused near the exit. “I'm sorry,” she said meekly, then hurried out. Sam couldn't even raise his arm to wave, but he wasn't really feeling all that sympathetic anyways.

Dean was already working on the chains. “Still feeling fuzzy about witches?” he asked, just like Sam knew he would.

“I never felt fuzzy,” Sam said, trying to move his arms and finding himself more lethargic than he'd expected. Huh: guess having your soul sucked out of you was tough. “I thought he was better than the rest. But I still wasn't okay with him. He put your life on the line,” he added softly.

Dean paused at Sam's ankle, glancing up at him. “Put your life on the line, too,” he said after a moment. “He could've killed you if his girlfriend hadn't stepped in, Sammy. Only gives me another reason to hate witches.” The last chain undone, Dean reached up and gently pulled Sam to sitting. The room spun alarmingly for a moment, then thankfully settled. Sam gave a brief nod when he was ready, and Dean pulled him up and helped him to the door.

“Her pendant isn't the only source of power, you know,” Sam added when they were almost out. “There's an altar-”

“Burned,” Dean said without hesitating. “No more witches for either of us.”

Good; Sam had had enough of them. Leaning on Dean, Sam made his way out towards the car.

END

~Nebula