What's Inside? for yuriookino

[summergen-mod.livejournal.com]

Title: What’s Inside?
Recipient: yuriookino
Rating: T
Word Count: ~4250
Warnings: Some violent content. Suggestions of cannibalism.

Summary: Ten-year-old Sam and fourteen-year-old Dean are stuck at Bobby’s while John is away on a hunt. Bobby thinks this is the perfect time to take them on an easy hunt. What could go wrong?

Sam scowled as he watched his father roar out of the yard at Singer Salvage. It was bad enough that he and Dean were left behind like unnecessary baggage. He had been getting rather used to that. It was everything else. First, John refused to give them the slightest hint of what he was hunting. Second, he was taking no backup. Third, Sam was not a child. John could easily have left him by himself at Bobby’s and taken Dean to watch his six. And of course, he and his father had had a huge fight about the whole thing. John thought Sam was being stubborn and childish. Sam thought his father was being arrogant and pig-headed and of course he could never tell his father that he was worried, that he loved him and wanted him to come home safe. Winchester men never said those things out loud.

“Cheer up, kiddo,” Dean ruffled Sam’s shaggy hair as he sat down beside him on Bobby’s front porch. “If Dad really needed backup, he would find some.”

Sam scowled harder and shoved Dean’s hand away, but subtly leaned into his big brother’s shoulder to show that he wasn’t really mad. “He takes risks. More of them when he doesn’t have anyone else’s safety to think about. He knows if he takes us on a hunt and gets killed, no one will be there to protect us. What if he’s going alone because it’s something really bad and he doesn’t care if he never comes back?”

“Don’t be a baby, Sammy, this is Dad we’re talking about. He’s going to come back. He always comes back. And he’s a total badass. He’s practically a superhero,” Dean grinned and knocked Sam’s shoulder with his own.

“Oh yeah?” Sam shot back stubbornly. “If he’s a superhero, what’re his powers?”

“Badassery,” Dean replied promptly. “Obviously, unlike you. If you had a superpower, it would be super whining. Here comes Sammy, able to cry a lake in a single bound!”

Sam surreptitiously scrubbed at his face in case a tear had actually managed to escape and betray him. “That doesn’t even make sense, D. Why would I be crying while I was bounding?”

“How the hell should I know, I’m not a crybaby.” Dean grinned.

"I’m not one either,” Sam shouted, jumped up and tackled his brother to the porch. They wrestled around for a while before Dean finally pinned Sam to the ground and started tickling his little brother breathless.

A cold spray of water broke them apart. Bobby stood over them with the garden hose. “I’ve got you started. Go and finish getting cleaned up for dinner. And if you destroyed my porch, you will be out here with a hammer and nails tomorrow…idjits.”

Dean smiled and looked down at his 10-year-old brother who was covered in dirt and still breathlessly laughing. Big brother strikes again.

They both ran upstairs to the bathroom and washed up quickly, leaving dirt-streaked towels hanging crookedly on the rack and muddy footprints on the floor. Then they clomped back downstairs like a herd of noisy elephants and pulled up to the table full of grilled cheese sandwiches and Bobby’s famous chili.

Bobby sighed. He could already see the handiwork of two rambunctious Winchester boys on his usual state of organized chaos. Dean dug into the food like he hadn’t eaten for a week while Sam worked steadily at his bowl and sandwich, occasionally pausing to laugh, open-mouthed, at his big brother’s antics.

Bobby always had mixed feelings about these visits. On the one hand, these two boys were the sons he never had. Dean was a real whiz with the mechanical side of things and he was shaping up to be a good man with strong principles. Sammy was quieter but displayed a voracious appetite for knowledge. And Bobby wasn’t made of stone. No mere mortal could resist the strength of Sam’s puppy dog eyes. He was growing up from the sweet and affectionate child into an angsty, stubborn preteen, but he had not yet grown to the point that he can hide what he is feeling and when he looks at his brother like he hung the moon, or at Bobby with his heart in his eyes, he knows that loving boy is still there.

As Bobby is musing, Dean’s gestures get a little too wild and send a quarter of his third bowl of chili crashing to the ground, red tomato sauce flying everywhere.

“Damn it, boy, can’t you watch where you’re swinging them things. Clean that up,” Bobby grumped.

“Yes sir,” Dean jumped up smartly.

And Sam, go get into your PJ’s,” Bobby growled.

“I’m ten years old,” Sam protested.

“I know how old you are, idjit.”

“It’s only 7:00!” Sam continued arguing.

“10-year-olds don’t have bedtimes anymore?”

“Not at 7:00! And especially not during the summer,” Sam wrinkled his forehead at Bobby.

“Put those away, boy. I ain’t Dean. Go put your PJ’s on and grab a shower anyway. You’re still all full of dust and I don’t want to have to beat it out of my sofa. I’ll make some popcorn and we can watch a movie,” Bobby relented.

“Ok, Bobby,” Sam smiled brightly. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let Dean pick the movie!”

Bobby made Dean do the dishes and then sent him up to get his shower as well before pulling out his old TV and a tattered cardboard box of videotapes. They basically just sat gathering dust when the Winchesters weren’t around.

Soon, Sam was crouching in front of the box, hair damp and curling in his face. “I thought maybe you might have gotten something new by now,” he frowned.

"And who would I be buying them for? It's been a good year or so since your daddy last dropped you off here. Go look in the kitchen though, I also picked up that newish cartoon. You know, the one about the monster in the castle.”

“That’s a girl’s movie, Bobby,” Sam said, but then trotted dutifully to the kitchen to grab the Wal-Mart bag sitting by the door.

Little Town was playing by the time Dean wandered downstairs in his soft, plaid sleep pants. “I see you let the infant pick the movie,” he teased.

“I know it’s for girls, Dean. But it’s the only one Bobby has that I haven’t seen eight thousand times.”

Dean made a big show of sighing and rolling his eyes before sitting down next to Sam on the couch. “Shove over, squirt.” Sam moved over exactly three inches and then crowded back into Dean’s space the moment he was seated. Dean pretended to fight off Sam’s octopus limbs just long enough to prove to Bobby that he was cuddling with his brother against his will before settling down to watch the movie. It actually wasn’t terrible. The singing was stupid but the beast was pretty badass, taking on a whole pack of wolves by himself.

When the movie was over, Sam yawned and looked at Bobby sleepily, “Can we watch another one?”

Bobby looked at him skeptically before glancing at Dean. Dean nodded slightly and Bobby gave in, leaving them to their movie. He knew from experience that Sam would probably fall asleep in a familiar movie and Dean would have to carry him up to bed, thereby circumventing the inevitable fight about bedtime.

He retreated back into his office and thought about the next few days coming up. They were good boys. They fought like any other pair of brothers but Dean took care of his little brother and Sam never fought him as hard as he fought his Dad. Still, he was going to have to find them something to do. Two bored kids at a salvage yard with all kinds of scrap metal and old cars lying around was just a recipe for disaster. He answered the phone when it rang and, by the time he hung up, he had the beginnings of an idea in his head.

---

Bobby planned to let the boys sleep late the next morning. John probably would have had them up at the ass-crack of dawn running drills and weapons training but it was a point of great pride that he allowed them the chance to relax a little from their father’s strict regime.

Sam was up first, trudging into the kitchen just after 7:00am, his hair a tangled mess all over his head and eyes bleary with sleep. “Morning, Uncle Bobby,” he yawned. “S’breakfast ready yet?”

“There are lucky charms now or if you can hold on for a bit, I’ll make eggs, bacon, and pancakes,” Bobby said gruffly.

“I’ll wait,” Sam smiled sweetly.

Bobby couldn’t help smiling back at the boy. “Good, while you’re waiting, see if you can make heads or tails of the papers on the kitchen table.”

“Is it a hunt?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty easy one. It probably won’t take you too long to figure it out.”

“Do you already know what it is?” Sam looked up at Bobby, eyes wide.

“Sure do, kiddo. That’s how I know it’s gonna be an easy hunt. But I know how you like to figure things out yourself and this way we can tell your daddy that I’m teaching you to do real hunter’s research,” Bobby reached out and attempted to tame Sam’s wild mane.

Sam submitted for a couple seconds until Bobby hit an especially stubborn tangle. He winced and pulled away. “I’ll do it later, Bobby, or Dean will,” and Sam rolled his eyes so much like a sullen teenager that Bobby did a double take.

“Fine, let’s see how long it takes you to figure out what monster we’re looking for,” Bobby growled as he turned to his cupboards and started pulling out the ingredients for pancakes.

Dean finally came downstairs when the smell of sizzling bacon permeated the house. He smirked when he saw Sammy with his head down over an old book and some scrap paper beside him covered in scribbled notes. “You know Sammy, the whole point of summer vacation is the vacation part. That means no homework,” he plopped down at the kitchen table beside his little brother.

“Not everyone wants to be illiterate like you, Dean. Besides, it isn’t homework. Uncle Bobby is taking us on a hunt!” Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean and turned back to his book.

Dean looked sharply at Bobby. “A hunt, huh?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, boy. I checked it out. It’s a simple hunt with minimal danger and it’ll give you something to do besides destroying my house and it will keep your daddy off my back about letting you slack off over the summer.”

“What is it?” Dean raised one eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Why don’t you ask your brother? I’m getting him to do the research,” Bobby said.

“Well, what are we going after, Sammy-boy?” Dean draped himself over his brother’s back to look at his notes.

“Ugh, get off, Dean. Your breath smells like crap. And I’m not sure yet. I just need to check a few more things. Go eat your breakfast and leave me alone,” Sam pouted.

“Fine, geek-boy. You’re lucky that you’re less interesting than bacon,” Dean sprawled into his own chair just as Bobby put the food on the table.

They ate in silence. Dean was too busy stuffing his face. Sam was turning pages and taking the occasional thoughtful bite, and Bobby never said much while eating anyway.

“I think…” Sam spoke, then paused. “Is it a Squonk?”

Bobby couldn’t help beaming. “Good work, Sam, and quick too, almost quicker than me.”

Dean looked at them incredulously and laughed loudly. “The hell is a Squonk?”

“It’s a really ugly creature with lots of warts and stuff and it thinks it looks really ugly and it wants a friend so it goes around crying all the time,” Sam said. “Geez, Dean, you could pick up a book once in a while.”

“Whatever, squirt, how do you kill the thing?” Dean ruffled Sam’s still tangled hair.

“We aren’t going to kill it!” Sam looked aghast. “It doesn’t kill people but it scares them and it eats pets and digs up gardens. It’s a nuisance but it isn’t a bad monster.”

“It doesn’t matter. If it’s a monster, we kill it. No exceptions,” Dean said seriously.

“What? No? Uncle Bobby? We can’t kill it! They don’t even belong here. They accidentally escape through portals from another dimension. We can send it back. It won’t be as sad there because it won’t be alone.” Sam once again used his puppy eyes with devastating effect.

“Your brother’s right, Dean. There’s no need to kill the thing. It won’t even fight back. The Squonk’s only defense mechanism is to dissolve into a puddle of tears when it is scared. We just have to find it, make it dissolve, and do a little ritual that will send it back to its home,” Bobby said. “It’s a good hunt for a beginner. If it somehow does become aggressive, iron will take it down. But I don’t expect to need a gun at all.”

“Fine,” Dean slouched in his chair. “But I’m bringing my gun, just in case.”

---

There was very little preparation that needed to be done. Bobby, Sam, and Dean were out the door just after lunchtime. Sam clutched the book with the ritual. He was going to be the one to recite the chant to send the Squonk back home. He shivered with barely suppressed excitement. His dad never trusted him with important stuff. And besides, he was actually going to save the Squonk instead of hurting it.

It was about a six hour drive from Bobby’s place to Black Hills National Park where the Squonk had last been sighted. They got a hotel immediately on arrival. They would head out first thing the next morning so they could hunt in full daylight. Sam could barely sleep. Dean finally grabbed him and pinned him to the bed, falling asleep half on top of him in order to keep him from tossing and turning. In the end, he managed to get a few hours before waking up hot and sweaty under Dean’s heavy arm. He took great pleasure in kicking him out of the bed before running and grabbing the first shower.

When he got out, Dean was waiting for him with a noogie but Bobby put a stop to their squabble before it could get out of hand. One quick breakfast later, they were heading out on the trail, weapons bags and water bottles in tow.

Sam stopped and took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. It was one of those days that made him feel glad to be alive. The sky was perfectly blue with only a few fluffy white clouds drifting lazily across. There was just enough of a breeze to keep it from being sweltering hot.

“Hurry up, nature-boy,” Dean’s shout rudely interrupted his enjoyment. “You can commune with nature after we banish the Squonk.”

Sam hurried after Dean and Bobby, quickly catching up and then jogging to keep up to their quick pace. Sometimes it really sucked to have short legs.

“Look, there Bobby,” Sam pointed to a wet patch under the trees by the trail. “Could that be a sign?”

Bobby crouched down to look. “Most likely. See how the puddle is starting to dry and we have this salt crust at the edges? Any water I’d expect to see here would be fresh. Salt means tears. And the hoof prints give it away too.”

Geez, this is one stupid fugly,” Dean scoffed. “I could probably track it with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back.”

Sam rolled his eyes and looked forward. “Look! More tears!”

“Good eye, kiddo,” Bobby smiled. “Considering how wet these patches still are, we’re probably pretty close. We might even start hearing it soon. Didn’t I tell you it would be an easy hunt, Dean?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, old man,” Dean mocked.

“You watch who you’re old manning. I can still tan your hide if you sass me.”

“Bobby, Dean! Stop fighting and hurry up!” Sam ran on ahead to the next patch.

Bobby and Dean exchanged glances before running after him.

After about half an hour of Sam darting ahead to new wet patches, the sound of sobbing drifted to them on the air. Moments after that, they had the creature in sight, shambling along the trail, depressed and crying, stopping every once in a while to flop down onto its belly and wail louder still.

“Dean, quick, go get on the other side and block it off,” Bobby directed. “Sammy and I will try blocking it off on this side.”

Dean leapt over the Squonk, frightening it badly. It was quickly going into hysterics and shrinking before their eyes as the tears ran onto the ground and gathered beneath it. Soon, there was nothing visible left of the Squonk but a pool of salt water in the centre of the path.

“Alright, do your thing, Sam,” Bobby said gruffly.

Sam pulled the book out of the weapons bag, opened it to the correct page and knelt beside the pool of salt water. He stretched his hand out over the water and opened his mouth to speak. But nothing came out. Sam went rigid and his eyes rolled back in his head. Bobby and Dean both attempted to leap toward his side but they ran into a barrier about two feet out from the salt pool.

“SAMMY!” Dean shouted as he frantically tried to claw his way through to his little brother.

Sam started shaking. The pool glowed faintly blue in the centre. The light spread outward from a single point and the still water rippled and bubbled upward. A hand broke through, glowing like the water, and grasped Sam’s wrist tightly enough to bruise. The hand was followed by an arm, then a shoulder, torso, and everything else until a man stood there in the center of the barrier, looking down at an unresponsive Sam.

Dean was panicking. Bobby was too. He shot the barrier with rock salt, silver, and consecrated iron. He poured holy water on it. He recited the strongest purification ritual he knew that didn’t require the use of herbs. The stranger just laughed as they futilely attacked the barrier.

“You know,” the stranger sneered. “I thought I had been much too heavy-handed in my plan to lure you here. Haven’t you realized yet that something this simple is always a trap?” He laughed.

“Leave Sammy out of this,” Dean growled. “If it is revenge you want, take it out on me or Bobby. Sam is not a hunter yet and he wouldn’t have hurt you.

The stranger laughed harder and shook Sam violently. “My dear boy, who do you think I was hoping to trap? Not you. You’re Daddy’s little soldier, devoid of all control. And you, old man, I do not prematurely seek death. I do not wish to take your decrepit body. But this one, you must know how special he is. Can you smell it; the power running through these veins? It’s exquisite, like the finest of wines. It is not just youth and beauty. He is special. He is the boy king, heir to the blood of Azazel, and destined to be the vessel of the dark one. How could I not wish to possess something so sweet.” The stranger nuzzled his face in the crook of Sam’s neck. Sam still showed no signs of waking. His head lolled onto his shoulders and his eyes were open, gazing into the distance.

Dean shouted incoherently and attacked the barrier once more. Bobby tried to slice it with the machete but it once again proved impenetrable.

“I know they say to never monologue but you’re out there and I’m in here with your precious Sammy and therefore I have already won. I might as well tell you his fate. I could take his shape already. With a single touch, I have enough of him to recreate him down to the last mole. I would have his thoughts and memories too. I could be your Sammy from top to toe. But with him, that isn’t enough, not nearly enough. I cannot copy his power. It has to be within me; in my flesh and in my blood.” He grinned widely and Dean and Bobby both shuddered.

The stranger gently placed Sam on the ground and gazed on him almost reverently. He looked up at the sky, smirking at the angry shouts from Bobby and Dean. He knelt down beside Sam, smelling the current of blood rushing just under the skin. He traced Sam’s carotid artery with his nose.

“Not there,” he whispered. “No need to rush.

He continued to breathe deeply. “Here,” the stranger smiled back up at Bobby and Dean. He traced a symbol on Sam’s forearm before biting down and drinking. Sam did not even respond to the pain. He was catatonic. The monster drank for what seemed like forever before tearing the chunk of skin from Sam’s arm, chewing and swallowing the morsel and savoring every bite.

Dean was weeping. Bobby was not far off. Sam lay still.

The creature traced Sam’s unblemished arm. “I don’t want to take too much just yet. I will have time to enjoy you. And yet, perhaps a little more wouldn’t hurt. You’re young.” The creature once again drove his teeth into Sam’s body, his shoulder this time.

Sam came awake screaming and struggling. “No,” he shouted. “Let me go!”

He managed to kick the stranger off him and run for Dean. He crashed into the barrier just short of his brother.

“It’s a shifter, Sammy,” Bobby shouted to his boy.

Sam instantly turned, his silver knife pulled out of his boot and flying toward the heart of the creature. He didn’t go down right away, just looked at Sammy with hunger in his eyes. “If you think you will ever be safe, you’re wrong. You’ll try to save everyone and everything will turn to ashes. Look at you, the boy king, destined to destroy everything he touches. You think you can do this, save people, hunt things. Sooner or later they will see the monster inside and they will run from you…or worse, they’ll try to put you down.”

Sam had pulled back away from the stranger. His shoulder and arm were screaming at him and he was quickly becoming faint from blood loss. But the words of the stranger set his blood to boiling.

“I’m not a monster,” he shouted before running forward and pulling his silver knife from the creature’s chest. “I will never be a monster,”

And this time, Sam’s aim was true and the stranger collapsed, dead at last. Sam collapsed on top of him and he did not remember the return to civilization. The only thing he could recall was that Dean carried him back and every time Bobby tried to offer Dean a break, he clutched his brother tightly in his arms and kept running down the mountainside. His whole world narrowed to two things, Dean and pain, and the pain was rapidly taking over even Dean’s face.

He was in and out for the stitching and bandaging process. Occasionally, he surfaced enough to cry from the pain. Dean was always there, talking him back from his fear and despair, trying to hard to make it better. Bobby tried to soothe him too, brushing his fingers through his hair or cupping Sam’s cheek and saying nothing when Sam couldn’t help but turn into even the slightest sign of affection.

By the time, Sam was awake and coherent, he had forgotten much of what the stranger had said. Dean and Bobby felt no need to remind him. It was difficult enough recovering from the blood loss and torn muscles in his arms.

Bobby did not intend to tell John anything. He knew John would blast him for keeping it from him but if any of what the stranger had said was true, Sam might not be safe from his own father for much longer.

But Dean could not lie. He told John the whole story on his return. John was silent when he had finished. He left the room, barely able to glance at his oldest son. He crept into the bedroom the boys shared when they stayed at Bobby’s house. He looked down at his sleeping youngest son and felt the same swell of love he always did. His boy was so innocent. He found it hard to imagine that this sweet child could ever be capable of evil. But the shifter had called Sam a monster and the demon he had captured the night before returning from his hunt had said much the same thing.

Could he be the boy king? Would he rule hell? No one knows. But as he gazed down at his peaceful child, John made the oath that would follow him the rest of his life.

“I’ll save you, Sammy. I promise I will. And if I can’t save you. I will kill you. I will never let you live to become a monster."