So, I'm still angry at Sam after 'Hunted', though I did notice JP looked totally hot in 'Playthings', and I'm a total Deangirl, so it should say something...
Anyway, this isn't a tag for Hunted, could be post Playthings, too, or totally AU.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made.
Spoilers: For Hunted and Playthings, I guess.
Sam couldn't quite put his finger on what was bothering him about the motel room, but something at the back of his head was screaming at him 'this is wrong', and it wasn't just the headache. Or the fact he was looking at himself. Damn visions.
He looked around some more. TV with cable, showing the news with the volume muted. Ugly yellow/orange bedside window that just begged to get broken... And only one bed. Just one. Taking most of the room.
Ok, they've had to share a bed before; when there were no other rooms or they were too strapped for money. It didn't happen often, but it did happen. Only, Dean's things weren't there. He must have left Dean again. Or maybe it was the other way around? No, Dean would never do that. Unless... Has he turned evil? Has the Demon gotten its way?
Sam stepped closer to his other self. He'd been crying. And drinking, judging by the many mini-liquor bottles on and around the bed.
So he has turned evil. And Dean has left him. Couldn't do it, couldn't pull the trigger. Sam should've known better than to believe Dean would keep his end of this deal. Only... he didn't feel evil.
Sam inched closer to himself, a little weirded out, but curious. His other self held a paper in his hand, kept on drinking. Tequila. The good stuff. Sam wasn't much of a tequila person. He wished he could warn his other self that the hangover was going to be a bitch and that he should stop drinking liquor and switch to coffee while he still had a chance.
And then he saw it.
Images swirled around. Sounds, thoughts, smells. Pain. He thought he screamed. Couldn't be sure.
Dean died on a Saturday.
There was no grave, no body left to be buried. He had gone out in flame, just like Jess. Just like Mom.
A car crash. Drove straight off a cliff. The ammo caught fire. It must have been a spectacular sight. Dean would have died immediately. Hell, there wasn't much left of the Impala, either, and the parts they did find were feet away from where it had happened.
Dean died in a car crash. On a Saturday. Two weeks from now, judging by the paper his other self was holding.
Another memory stroke, harder, more painful than any before.
Yes, it had been a bad weather, and even Dean had his limits - but the police found no skid marks on the road. Dean didn't even slow down.
They had an argument shortly before it had happened - will happen - and Dean...
Was there. Helping him up, over to the bed, offering him some aspirin, asking if they had to get going.
What were they arguing about? In two weeks, before it had happened - will happen - what were they arguing about? Could he stop it?
Sam kept thinking about it every day. For two weeks. Until Saturday.