#and the one after where they realize sam has been leapfrogging further away from lebanon

[alulaspeaks]

Abandoned WIP: Into the Fade

Big Idea: Gencest, maybe background wincest. It was going to be an atmospheric piece with a nebulous enemy. Something’s got a grip on Sam, slipping into the quiet spaces where he’s sort of functioning on autopilot and trying to take him somewhere. They were never going to figure out what or why or where, and only going to be mostly sure they broke its hold at the end.

Why it was abandoned: I got about 2k in and I didn’t feel like I was pulling it off. It was kind of boring, plus the show did it better in season 7 with Hallucifer. Also, the opening scene which will be the snippet below, relied on a character that would not exist in real life. What gas station/convenience store attendant would actually do what I had written for some rando (and how many gas stations have pie???)? In the end, it felt like it didn’t really have anything to say, and I had another idea I liked better that was going to have this unknown force/ambiguous resolution. So I thought I should save my energy for that.

Snippet:

Sam steps into the gas station, rubbing absently at the crick in his neck. The bell chimes as the door swings closed and the clerk behind the counter looks up from her magazine. She’s in her fifties, and her eyes crinkle when she smiles at Sam. Sam smiles back and wanders through the isles, grabbing a few snacks as he goes. Dean will want something when Sam gets back to the bunker, acts martyred if Sam doesn’t bring him something good.

Sam grins when he spots the little triangular boxes next to the counter. Pie will win him all sorts of leeway for being late. There are whole pies and slices in apple and cherry. Sam grabs a slice of cherry because there is no way he’s bringing Dean a whole one. He’d eat it in one sitting. Sam smiles at the clerk as he loads up the counter. Her name tag says Mabel, and she’s got a warm smile.

“Find everything you need?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam says.

He rubs at the back of his neck, looks around as she starts ringing up his purchases. He better grab something for Dean so he doesn’t complain about Sam being late. He spots the display of pies and grins as he grabs a slice and adds it to his pile.

The clerk smiles when Sam sets it on the counter. “Best pies in the county. We get ‘em from the diner down the way.” She nods to the display next to the counter.

There are whole pies and slices and Sam grabs a slice of cherry and sets it on the counter. Dean will love that.

“You know,” the clerk says, her name tag says Mabel, “it’ll be cheaper to buy the whole pie.”

Sam frowns and reaches for his slice of pie to check the price, but there are three little triangular boxes on the counter. Sam only remembers grabbing the one. “No, I…” Sam trails off, hand hovering over the containers.

“You all right?” Mabel asks, looking from the pie back to Sam. She offers him a tentative smile, the corners of her mouth tight with concern. “You look awful tired.”

“It’s been a long couple of days,” Sam says and tries to smile back. “I’ll just take the one slice.” He lets Mabel put the extra slices back, keeps his own eyes averted from the display, tries not to acknowledge the feeling that something awful is waiting for him in the shadows at the back of his mind.

He pays with cash and heads outside, fishing for the keys in his pocket. When he gets out into the lot, he freezes, plastic bag crinkling as it thumps against his thigh. He’s expecting the Impala, but it’s nowhere to be seen, and that awful something creeps a little closer. Sam looks down at the keys in his hand and his stomach twists because these aren’t the Impala’s keys. He scans the lot again but he doesn’t recognize any of the cars, doesn’t even recognize the lot, or the countryside. A formless need to move skitters up his spine and Sam’s breath comes in quick, shallow bursts as his heart starts to race. This isn’t even Lebanon.

But it is painfully familiar: wrong keys, wrong car, and no idea how he got here. Sam swallows, tries to keep his head on straight and breathes through the sick twist of dread that leadens his stomach. He’s survived this before and he can do it again, he can. He needs to keep grounded, he needs to talk to Dean. He nearly fumbles his phone as he pulls it from his pocket and thumbs on the screen.

At first he thinks his phone is broken, the screen an incomprehensible jumble of color, but he runs his fingers over the glass and there are no cracks. He looks back over his shoulder at the TV screen over the convenience store counter where Mabel is watching him, and it seems fine. It’s only his phone. His fist clenches around his phone and he turns it off and on again. It doesn’t get better. He can’t even tell where the icons are, can’t even bring up the phone app to use his speed dial.

The bell over the door rings and Mabel steps up beside him, she glances at him then turns to look out over the lot. Sam keeps staring down at his phone waiting for it to make sense, but it doesn’t. Sweat breaks out along the back of Sam’s neck, a flush burning up in his cheeks, and he squeezes his eyes against the sting of shame. He’s as helpless as a child. Worse than a child because he ought to be better than this and now he can’t even use his own phone.

Mabel lays her hand in the crook of Sam’s elbow and waits. Sam looks at her then, and the patience in her eyes calms something in him.

“Where are we?” Sam asks.

“Hamburg.” Mabel’s expression doesn’t change, still that same quiet patience, even when she sees the blank look on Sam’s face. “Iowa.”

“Ok,” Sam says, nodding to himself even as he presses his mouth into a thin line. He holds his phone out to Mabel, “I need to call my brother.”