Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ We Didn't Start The Fire ❯ Dreams and Nightmares ( Chapter 2 )

We didn't start the fire.

It was always burning since the world's been turning.

We didn't start the fire.

No, we didn't light it but we tried to fight it.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

Sam came slowly out of his self-induced “trance” and his first thought was how very hungry he was. Hungry, and parched, and stiff. He had no idea how long he'd been out here, but his body was telling him that he'd been in the same position for a very long time.

 

Slowly, he uncurled his legs, stifling a cry as thousands of invisible needles stabbed him at once, every part of him. As it was, he couldn't completely block a small whimper of pain.

 

Standing up is going to be wonderful!

 

Even as he thought it, he unconsciously cast his glance around, and was not surprised that his mentor was not there. However, Sam had a feeling that he would be soon. And until then, there was absolutely no reason to—

 

“I had no idea that my instructions would take so long to carry out.”

 

Sam started slightly—his period of utter stillness had severely dampened his senses and reflexes—and turned to face the direction the voice came from. “I could have told you it would,” he murmured, and his voice was almost too hoarse to put forth any sound at all.

 

The entity raised an eyebrow, and Sam quickly amended himself.

 

“It turns out that I had…a lot to work through.”

 

“I know. That must be why you've been sitting exactly where I left you for three days.”

 

XXX

 

Dean Winchester's head tossed fitfully on the pillows of his hospital bed, and the nurse checking his vitals looked quickly at him as he moaned, thinking that maybe he was waking. But after a moment, he stilled again, and the nurse turned away again.

 

XXX

 

“Three days?” Sam Winchester repeated in slight disbelief. “That's impossible…”

 

“I'll admit that I didn't think it was likely, but it was never impossible,” the demon corrected, coming forward to stand beside Sam, who was still on the ground. “Did you manage to finish?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

 

“How did it feel?”

 

“How do you think it—” Sam cut himself off suddenly, and his mentor smiled.

 

“Don't worry.”

 

Sam sighed. “It was just…I mean, I expected it to hurt, but it was…worse than I could have imagined it would be.”

 

“Sifting through one's memories always hurts. If it didn't, that would indicate that you have no soul at all.”

 

“Well, it looks like my soul is in excellent condition,” Sam said with a sigh. “But…I did it. I went over every memory I've got from the time I was two, and I think I even uncovered some new ones.”

 

“And you still have no idea why I told you to do this.”

 

“No, I don't.”

 

“So why did you do it?”

 

Sam thought that there must be some deeper meaning somewhere in that question, but he knew he wouldn't find it. “Because you told me to.”

 

“And why does that matter?”

 

Suddenly feeling as if he were being quizzed, Sam replied, “Because you know what's best for me.”

 

The entity chuckled. “I never claimed to know what was best for anyone, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.” But where there would be warmth, both in the chuckle and in the words, the demon's tone never hinted at anything but ice.

 

Sam admired that.

 

“So what do I do now?”

 

Instead of answering, the demon replied with a question. “Sam, how many parts of your life have you blamed yourself for?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You heard me. Of everything that has happened to you and your family since you were born, how much have you blamed yourself for?”

 

“Why are you…?”

 

“You're avoiding the question. Don't. You need to be honest with me if you want me to teach you.”

 

Sam sighed. “I know. I'm—” He stopped mid-apology, remembering the earlier lecture. “Never mind.”

 

“It's everything, isn't it? You think everything is your fault.”

 

Sam nodded, slowly.

 

“Mary Winchester's death. Your brother not being able to live normally. Your father's obsession with the hunt. And Jessica Moore. Everything that has happened since the night you turned six months old.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And so you show your humanity. You show that you are clinging to the very thing you want to leave behind.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

The demon nodded.

 

“So how do I let go?”

 

“You've already begun. What do you think this little exercise was about?” the demon asked rhetorically. “Sam, I want you to tell me, right now, without even thinking about it, who killed your mother and your girlfriend.”

 

Sam responded instantly, with the reflex of one who had thought about this question many times. “Me.”

 

The demon shook his head, though not exactly in irritation. “I'm going to ask again, and this time I want you to really think about it. Look at your memories, and yourself, and then tell me: who killed your mother and your girlfriend? Who is at fault for their deaths?”

 

And Sam did. He thought about it, thoroughly and carefully, and realized the truth at last.

 

“…You are.”

 

XXX

 

“I don't understand it,” Dr. Richardson said, puzzled. “The scans show that he should be awake by now. In fact, he seems to be only in an extended period of REM sleep even now.”

 

The nurse who had come in to check the monitors looked over at him. “Has he been this way long?”

 

“Since the morning after he was brought in six days ago. I don't understand…”

 

On the bed, their patient shifted, face scrunching as if in confusion and a trace of fear.

 

The nurse, watching him, sounded confused as she said, “It's almost as if he's…having a nightmare.”

 

XXX

 

Sam was quiet for a long time after that, just thinking. He thought about what the demon had said, what it meant, what he'd been through lately…

 

“You're right,” he said softly. “It wasn't my fault. None of it…”

 

The demon smiled, again with no humor or warmth. “Exactly. None of it was your fault. And now that you've realized that, you can wipe clean the slate, shake off the past and become a new man, one who can do the work I need you to do without concern for that old-fashioned human morality that I find so odd,” he said, stepping forward to place a hand under Sam's arm.

 

Sam groaned slightly as he stood, stretching out his muscles and pushing the pain away. His mentor supported him carefully, his grip like iron.

 

“And now that you have completed this task, we can finally begin your training.”

 

And then the world…dissolved. That was really the only way to describe it. For a moment, Sam felt as if he were hanging, suspended, in some sort of black void, and he felt fear build in him. Before it could become too pronounced, though, the feeling was gone, and Sam and his mentor were in an entirely different place.

 

Looking around, Sam memorized the details of their location, unsure why he was doing it but feeling that it was important to do. He turned his attention to the demon, who had let go of him and moved away.

 

“Where are we?” he asked, puzzled.

 

“This is…my home, for all intents and purposes. It's where I often stay, at least.”

 

“A warehouse. You live at a warehouse.”

 

The demon shrugged. “It isn't bad. I've made it comfortable. And it's very quiet, looked-over, perfect for…”

 

“Hiding?”

 

“I prefer to think of it as being discreet, but…yes. This is where I live, and now, it will be where you live, as well.”

 

“You want me to live with you?”

 

“That will be most sufficient for your training, I believe.”

 

“Training?” Sam asked, only now registering this.

 

“Yes. Here, you will learn to control your abilities, and begin to hone new ones. I will teach you all that I know, and you will have power you have only dreamed of. And we can begin immediately, after you do only one thing for me.”

 

“What do I have to do?” Sam asked, trying to keep the dread out of his voice as he remembered his last “assignment.”

 

The demon leaned in close to him, and murmured softly, “You need to wake up.”

 

XXX

 

At exactly the same moment, in very different places, Sam and Dean Winchester sat straight up with identical gasps.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

We didn't start the fire.

It was always burning since the world's been turning.
We didn't start the fire.

But when we are gone,

It will still burn on, and on, and on, and on…

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

AN: All right, the first order of business is this: I have to throw out a big thank you to Silver Kitten—which totally slipped my mind in the last chapter—for pretty much saving my muse from a long vacation! I'm serious, people, the thing was packing up for the Bahamas, completely disgusted with me for choosing a fic idea that was WAY too ambitious for me. But now it's back, thanks to you, Kitten!

 

And the second order of business: Believe it or not, this is going to be a VERY short story. There are only two chapters and an epilogue left, so it's not gonna be this long drawn-out thing like In Omnia Paratus. Promise!

 

Third order of business: REVIEW, PLEASE!