Sam had been told long ago that he had unusual blood inside him by a psychic. His father and brother called it demon blood but Sam knew better; he was part Kitsune and Kitsune are spirits, not demons. Originally, John had tried to suppress and even eventually destroy the powers that came with the blood and the blood itself. Sam knew that this was wrong and foolish; Sam knew that the blood was a part of him now, and knew that it would never really go away. When had they had seen that Sam had been given the unusual ability of blocking and binding other Supernatural creatures powers, Dean convinced John that this had been a blessing in disguise all along. John had grudgingly agreed and they started on honing Sam's abilities and John's motto eventually became 'Fight fire with fire', especially once they saw what Sam's fire could do to the monsters it hit.
However, when one creature they were hunting asked Sam how he felt going after his own kind, Sam started doubting if this was how he was supposed to live; he was something of the Supernatural himself, so should he really be hunting creatures that were like him? It was one week later that he applied to colleges in hopes of getting away from this life. When Stanford offered him a full ride, he and his dad had a screaming match to and all screaming matches. Sam had said that he didn't want to hunt a part of himself and his father said that if Sam could honestly connect to those monsters, then he could run, but he had better be careful because some hunter might just kill him, which was what you did to anything that wasn't human. Sam had run and never looked back, ignoring all of Dean's calls, knowing that if anyone was going to agree with John, it would be John's favourite son.
While at Stanford, Sam had been introduced to Jessica Moore, a woman who had been fascinated with Japanese folklore since she was a little girl. She knew all about it, from the Abumi-guchi, a type of tsukumo-gami formed from a stirrup, usually one that once belonged to a fallen soldier, to the Zhong Kui, a vanquisher of ghosts and evil beings, and reputedly able to command 80, 000 demons. When Sam had asked what she knew about Kitsune, she had had quite a bit to say, seeing as how she favoured the Kitsune quite a lot.
“In Japanese folklore, the Kitsune are often presented as tricksters; sometimes very malevolent ones. The tricksters Kitsune employ their magical powers to play tricks on people; those portrayed in a favourable light tend to choose as targets overly-proud samurai, greedy merchants, and boastful commoners, while the more cruel Kitsune tend to abuse poor tradesmen and farmers or Buddhist monks.
Despite their role as tricksters, however, a Kitsune will keep a promise it has given and will strive to repay any favour it owes. Occasionally a Kitsune will take a liking to and attach itself to a certain person or household; as long as it is treated with respect, it will use its powers for the benefit of its companion or hosts.”
“So, you see, the Kitsune are basically the Japanese version, as well as pack version, of Anansi of Africa and Loki of Scandinavia. I believe that Kitsune are the rightful judgement callers of Japan. I think that those who call them cruel and say they go after the weak and humble, are the ones who were scorned by the Kitsune, and want everyone to believe that they were the victims of an unjust prank.” Jessica explained while they had been drinking coffee.
“You believe that they really exist then?” Sam had asked when she finished her story/explanation.
“Of course; I believe in Angels, and as much as I wish it were other wise, you can't believe in one, and not the other.” It was not long after that, that they moved in together and soon, Dean was breaking and entering, dragging Sam with him to try and find dad and then the... horrible 'accident' which cost Jess her life. Which led them to this university that had a ghost that attacked and killed a pervert, a hazer who slow danced with an alien, and then the animal experimenter who got eaten by an alligator. Bobby had of course been right; if they hadn't had their heads so far up their asses, Sam would have realized that he had finally found another Trickster, something he thought that he would never actually run into.
“I don't get it though Bobby, if it's a Trickster, why didn't Sam pick it up?” Dean asked and Sam had to resist the urge to smack Dean; he was a radar for demons not demi-gods damn it! Besides that he found them, he didn't identify the damn bastards!
“My guess? This Trickster is older than most that Sam is used to; he started working on that ability last year in order to find Yellow Eyes right? But he just started being able to sense Cross-Road demons, and only the employees at that; he can't get even a whiff of the big boss.”
“Well excuse me for being a weak ass radar system but it took me five years before I was able to fully bind the powers of a pissed off Poltergeist! And six years before I was able to properly barbeque a Banshee! Now, stop talking about me as if I'm not in the room and try to figure out just who the bloody Trickster is here!”
“Sammy, before you go on with your PMSing, there's only one guy who's been at ground zero for this whole thing remember?”
“Of course, who else?”
“Well, if the two of you are so certain about this, we're going to have to set a trap for him. This might work...” Bobby started to explain.
The next day
“-But you and Sam, I like you two.” The Trickster said as he ate his candy bar.
“Unfortunately, we do have a job to do, right Sammy? Bobby?” Dean said as the other two came in.
“That fight was a -” The Trickster started to ask and Dean finished with a smirk
“A Trick? Yeah. Sammy? Hold his powers.” Dean said as he pulled his stake out. The Trickster looked greatly confused before he looked at Sam, whose eyes were becoming milky white, with an off blue color around the edge. A Kitsune? Boy, Azazel, did you ever screw up. You were supposed to make the boy part demon, not part Trickster. Still, this could be interesting. The Trickster then noticed that some of his illusions were starting to disappear. Well I'll be... the little bugger is trying to bind my powers. Alright Sammy, let's see how you do one on one.
“Tell you what Sammy-kins, what do you say we make this more interesting?” The Trickster said before Dean started having his butt handed to him by the women on the podium and Bobby was trying to fend off a maniac with a chainsaw. Sam found the Trickster standing right in front of him.
“You really think that you can contain me?”
“It's worth a shot, especially seeing as how you're threatening both my brother and my surrogate father.” Sam said before he blasted the Trickster with his fire, sending him flying up onto the podium. He got up only to find Sam right in front of him. Sam managed to punch him and the Trickster, to his surprise, found himself flying backwards. This was when he realized that a couple of his illusions were starting to losing their gusto; Sam really was starting to clamp down on his powers.
“Sammy?! Do you think you could possibly move just a tad faster?!” Dean shouted as the women threw him around.
“Dean, you idjit, Sam needs to concentrate if he's going to bring that Trickster down!” Bobby shouted as his maniac practically made a toothpick out of his stake.
“Yeah Dean; how 'bout you clamp down a Trickster's powers while fighting him, and I'll fight the two scantily clad women?” Sam asked as he sent another fire ball at the Trickster, who barely managed to dodge it. Cassie, baby; I need some help here. And I think we just found a new source of entertainment and pleasure, if you know what I mean. Before anyone could say anything more, a tall man with black hair and blue eyes, wearing black pants, a grey t-shirt and a black denim jacket over it appeared behind Sam.
“Can I pick 'em or can I pick 'em?” The Trickster asked as the other man circled and looked at Sam, who found himself unable to move.
“Most definitely; he's very beautiful.” The new man said as Dean and Bobby were still fighting their respective opponents, not even realizing that a new player had stepped up to bat.
“And pretty powerful; I haven't had to use this much power in a few centuries!”
“Dean? Bobby? We got a new problem! There is no way I can hold two Tricksters!” Sam shouted as he tried to keep the shorter Trickster's powers locked. I don't get it! Jess said that only Kitsune tricked in packs! If this one was a Kitsune, he wouldn't be affected by my fire. Sam thought before he felt a great push at his chest.
“Sam! Watch out!” Sam didn't know who said it, as he fell into the arms of the blue eyed man. Sam then realized that the golden eyed Trickster had not only thrown his power off, he had shoved it right back to Sam!
“Don't worry little fox; we'll look after you.” The blue eyed man said to Sam before touching Sam's forehead with his index and pointer finger. Sam felt himself loose consciousness.
“Sorry boys; gotta fly!” The golden eyed Trickster said as the blue eyed man held Sam bridal style. He moved next to them, and in a blink, all three were gone and all illusions vanished. Dean and Bobby both ran up to podium.
“Bobby! What are we going to do?!”
“I don't know Dean, but I promise, we'll get him back, somehow.”
With the two Tricksters
“Where would you like me to put him?” Cas asked his lover.
“The spare room; I'll 'baby proof' it after you leave.”
“Alright Loki.” Cas said as he went into their spare room. He changed Sam into some silk pyjamas and made sure he was comfortable before leaving. Loki then made sure that the room and everything inside it were flame proof and negated all of Sam's other possibly active powers. He then turned to his lover, wiggled his eyebrows, and said
“Want to have some fun while we wait for the puppy to wake up?”
When Sam came to, he knew automatically that he was not where he was supposed to be. Nothing felt right at all; the bed, his clothes, and instead of the questionable scents that their shitty motel rooms usually had that made him want to rip his nose off, he found the room smelled of sandalwood and honey. Truth be told, he rather liked the combination. However, that was neither here nor there, as he had to get out of here. If I go up against those two together again, I'll have my ass handed to me. I have to think this through carefully Sam thought. Sam looked around and found a large pad of paper with a pen beside it. As he picked these up, he found himself taking more notice of the room around it. It was indeed a nice room; the walls were a maroon color, there was a set of drawers done in mahogany which he would look through after he was done his task, a stereo was there with a few CD's of each genre, a decent sized bookcase with both mystery novels and books on the supernatural, a desk with a computer on it and the bed itself was an old-fashioned four poster canopy bed with the sheets being a navy blue. All in all, a rather sensible room for a sensible person. On the paper, he wrote out what he knew.
1. Unlike normal Tricksters, who are traditionally solitary creatures, these two were together.
2. They are not Kitsune, at least the one with golden eyes isn't; his fire was starting to really hurt him before he called in reinforcements.
And, sadly, that was all he knew for certain at this point. Now, for his speculations.
1. The one with blue eyes may not even be a Trickster; Tricksters were about meeting out just desserts, but lacked the ability to really knock a person out.
2. They are both very old and very powerful; when they teamed up, Sam felt like they could have tossed him around like he were a rag doll.
3. Golden eyes is at least somewhat older than blue eyes; he was the one who not only threw Sam's power off, but threw it right back to Sam. That had never happened before. Oh, certainly others had thrown the power off in the past, but Sam got better with age and practice. And certainly, no one had ever reversed it so that Sam was the one who's powers were locked.
And really, that was all he could say for certain. He knew that he didn't stand a chance against them and there was no point in having a fit or something. He would probably end up only hurting himself and he needed all of his senses in order to get away and get back to Dean. First things first; you can not meet your abductors in your pyjamas, no matter how nice they are Sam thought as he stood up and went over to the drawers. He found a lot of reds, blues, greens, none of his usual colors. Thankfully, he found a black t-shirt and some blue jeans. He showered in the adjourning bathroom (again, nice but sensible), combed his hair, put the clothes on, and stood at the door.
“I don't have a clock in here so I don't know what time it is. However the sun looks relatively high so I'm guessing at least noon? Unless you guys are both night owls to the extreme when you're not working a job, if I promise to behave, can you let me out?” Sam called through the door, hoping one of them heard. He heard the door open, so he stood back. When the door opened, he saw that it was blue eyes who was on the other side.
“You're close, it's 12:30. When I knocked you out, I saw that you seldom actually get a lot of sleep, so I zonked you a little harder than I usually would have. Any ways, Loki is still asleep; he never gets up before 1:00. I made up some sandwiches for lunch; Loki will make something sweeter for himself when he wakes up. Come on.” Blue eyes said and Sam followed him into a rather extravagant kitchen.
“So, can I ask some questions? Like, why was I kidnapped? What is your name? You know, things like that?” Sam asked as he was given a sandwich.
“I'm not overly certain if I can answer as to why you are here; Loki just told me that he was in trouble and that I was to bring you with me when we left. However, I can tell you that my name is Cas.”
“Are you a Trickster like your... partner?” Sam asked
“If I say not exactly, will you let me leave it at that until I'm more comfortable with telling you just what I am?” Blue ey– Cas answered/asked and Sam felt it was best to concede. They sat in silence until Loki came in.
“Well, I have to admit, I didn't think you'd be here calmly eating lunch with my boyfriend.” Loki said as he came up next to his lover and kissed him.
“What? You thought that I would throw a temper tantrum, try to set fire to a door that is probably protected against my powers? If my powers are even still working, which I doubt. And then what? Even if I somehow managed to get out, I know for certain that if the two of you team up, I'm boned, with or without my powers. And me getting myself beaten black and blue will not lead me any closer to finding out why I'm here or why you didn't simply just kill me while you had the chance. Whereas being polite has gotten me out of the room, with no bruising I might add, a very nice lunch, and I have learned that you are Loki and your boyfriend's name is Cas.” Sam said as Cas smirked at his boyfriend who was practically gaping at Sam, who managed to say the whole thing in only a couple of breaths.
“See? Told you we grabbed the smart one.” Loki said with a grin as he got over his shock.
“Congratulations; you kidnapped the smart brother instead of the one with a libido problem to go with the missing brain. Can you please tell me why I was kidnapped?” Sam asked and Cas openly laughed at that.
“The smart one with an excellent bitch-face and an attitude to go with his flame! Oh yeah Loki, I like him!”
“Thank you for your enthusiasm Cassie, but I think I better tell him before he tries to flambe my sweet ass. Any ways, Sammy-kins, you are here because I sensed that, while you were allowed for your powers to grow into what they are, the personality behind them was not.”
“You have the abilities of Tricksters, but your personality is too maudlin. You have the spirit of a Trickster in you, and yet your brother managed to put Nair in your shampoo. You are only half of what you are Sammy, and if you don't embrace the other side soon, you are going to have what people refer to as a nervous breakdown.” Loki explained and Sam knew he wasn't joking.
“You know, they don't refer to them as nervous breakdowns anymore; they call them a 'Major Depressive Episode'. I guess it sounds less... psychotic, maybe more respectful to those who suffer from them.”
“Thank you, Dr. Spencer Reid.” Cas murmured into his coffee.
“My point is, we are going to help you embrace the side of you that wants to both play harmless pranks, and deal out justice to those that the law can't and, in some cases, won't touch. Simple as that.” Loki said with a small mock glare to his lover.
“First of all, Reid only said the part about it being call a Manic Depressive Episode; Jason Gideon was the one who came in and said the part about them no longer being called nervous breakdowns. Secondly, I'm not going to turn myself into an even bigger freak! If I'm not going to be my father's weapon against the supernatural, what makes you think I'll do what you say?” Sam shouts, not noticing the way the other two's eyes darken at the word 'freak'.
“Just so you know, my boyfriend and I are not fans of the word 'freak', or 'monster' for that matter, so don't use them again, or you won't like the consequences. Also, we just want you to become all that you are meant to be, to stop being only half of what you are. To truly throw away the rules that daddy dearest told you and your chuckle head of a brother actually believes! I mean, we heard about how you started letting them get away just so you wouldn't have to kill them! Sam, do you even want to be a hunter?” Loki asked and Sam looked away.
“I don't want to be my father, whose whole life has been consumed with revenge. So what if we kill yellow-eyes? It won't bring my mom back. I swear, the thing only killed Jess so that I would get back in the hunt. But my dad's whole life has become about revenge, even using his son, who was turned by the asswhole who killed his wife, to kill the things that go bump in the night and in order to get information out of them about said asswhole. I mean, he kills him, great. But what about his minions, and his boss? Will he try to go after them too? Or will he go back to his life of being a mechanic seeing as how he avenged his wife? A woman I never even knew! I don't want that to be my life, seeing as how it's pretty much Dean's life now.” Sam then got up, put his dishes in the sink (A/N: Come on, it's Sam; would he really just leave his dishes on the counter?), went back to his room and bolted the door.
“This is going to be even more difficult than I thought.” Loki said as he snapped the dishes clean.
“What did you honestly expect? For over twenty years, his father told him that if you weren't human, you deserve to be destroyed. For over twenty years, he was treated like a weapon against that which was half of him. And you expect him to want to be a full blooded Kitsune? The very thing he and the brother he would die for were trained to hunt and kill?” Cas asked his boyfriend, neither knowing that Sam had added something to his list of speculations.
4. Want to use me as a weapon against hunters?
It had been two weeks since Sam had been kidnapped by the two Tricksters, and just now was John Winchester showing up on Bobby's doorstep with Missouri Mosely in tow. Needless to say, she was not thrilled with him.
"John Winchester! You wait two whole weeks before coming to me and asking me for my help in locating your youngest boy! And you don't even have the decency to come to my home to ask for my assistance! You call me up and tell me to meet you here at Bobby's!" Dean was almost laughing at how much his dad was getting scolded by the psychic. Almost. It just didn't seem as fun without Sam, who would be doing his best to hide that stupid grin with those stupid dimples of his, and trying not to snort and laugh too hard.
"Missouri! May I please emphasize that I only asked for your help! I didn't demand it! I said, if you can make it, meet me at Bobby's. I did not order you to come!"
"Don't take that tone with me John Winchester! I have a right to be feeling this much indignation! And now I can add insulted to the list! As if I would turn down or ignore a plea for help in finding Sam! But you could have at least come to my home to ask me in person!"
"Will you two please shut up? We are all on the same side here! We are trying to find Sam before those Tricksters do something to him!" Ellen called from the living room. She, Jo and Ash had all showed up about a week ago, when Bobby and Dean admitted they needed some help if they were going to track down the two Tricksters and Sam. Ellen had another old friend looking after things at The Roadhouse while she helped look for her surrogate son.
"Hello to you too Ellen." John and Missouri both said as they came inside.
"Do we know anything yet?" John asked as Jo handed both him and Missouri some coffee.
"No; the only thing we know is that the shorter Trickster, the one the boys met right off the bat, has run into and tricked other hunters before. When I gave the description of the Tricksters to some of the more experienced hunters, some of them swore to God that they had met and, they thought, destroyed that very Trickster. Although, when I asked about the second, slightly taller, Trickster, no one could honestly say that they had ever met him." Ellen explained.
"I still don't see what that has to do with anything." Dean moped from his seat.
"Dean Winchester! It tells us that the one who took your brother is very old and very powerful! He's been playing with hunters for Lord only knows how long! It also explains why you've all had such bad luck in finding Sam. If the short Trickster has out smarted so many damn good hunters for so long, you can bet he knows more than a few ways to block himself, his partner, and Sam from our usual, conventional detection methods." Missouri scolded Dean, who just couldn't stop moping.
"Just how strong are we really talking here?" John asked, trying to think of something to get his son to stop moping about.
"Let me put it to you like this John; how long had Sam been working on his binding abilities before he was able to do it without strain?" Bobby asked his friend.
"I'd say almost seven years? It was harder obviously for the more powerful beings, but the more he worked at it, the better he got." John replied as Missouri looked at the maps.
"Uh huh, and during those seven years, how many were able to throw off the ability?"
"In the beginning? Almost all of them, and he got a powerful headache as well as a really bad nosebleed for it; there were times when I was worried he would become anaemic. But, like I said, the more he worked on it, the better he got till he was able to bind just about anything."
"Right. Now, in those seven years, how many of them pushed the ability back to Sam?" When Bobby asked this, John could not keep the surprise off of his face.
"You mean that they were able to bind Sam's powers instead of him binding theirs? None! That has never happened before!" Now, John was worried. As he said before, no one had ever pushed Sam's powers back to himself!
"The power behind these two is greater than anything you boys have encountered ever before then." Missouri summed up.
"Do you think they'll try and hurt Sam?" Dean asked and it was Ash who actually answered
"I doubt it; Kitsune are pack Tricksters, and it's said that other Tricksters, for the most part, leave them alone. I think those two want to see just how powerful hybrid human fox really is, maybe even see just how much of the personality he's got."
"How effective were his abilities before they took him?" Missouri asked Bobby.
"His fire seemed to really be hurting the small one, his strength had him throwing him around, and the illusions were starting to fail before the other showed up."
"His strength?" John asked
"Didn't anyone tell you Uncle John? About four months ago, he developed super strength; he can pin almost anything from vampires to werewolves." Jo explained and before John could reply, Dean said
"How is he supposed to know? He never picks up his phone and he doesn't give a damn about Sam anyways."
"Dean Winchester! Don't you dare say I don't care about my youngest!"
"You never cared about him! When he brought home straight A's, you didn't give a damn! When he got all those awards, you still didn't give a damn! All you cared about was if he could shoot straight or if he could properly read Latin! These were things he was proud of, and you made it seem like nothing! Then, when he tries to leave, you all but call him a monster!"
"I didn't see you coming to his defence that night!"
"Will you both shut up! What's important right now is finding Sam before the Tricksters do something that can't be fixed!" Ellen yelled, getting between the two idiots before they killed each other.
"What do you mean, 'something that can't be fixed'?" Jo asked her mother, looking warily between the two most stubborn men she had ever met.
"She means that sometimes, Tricksters would accept sacrifices not of the eating variety, but the sex variety. Now, two fully powered Tricksters would have no problems subduing a little fox hybrid and taking what they want, and, if I may say so without my own sexuality being called into question, he is rather handsome." Ash told her and everyone went deathly still. John stepped outside and Bobby followed.
"John, you know you've got to make it up to that boy; he never deserved what you said to him. And I need to know something; did you ever blame him for Mary's death?"
"John, Sam would sometimes contact me when he was at Stanford. Most of the time, he was drunk, and he's tell me that, when you got drunk, and I mean rip-roaring, no good, you-can't-even-move, stinking drunk, you'd go on and on about how Mary would still be around if he hadn't been born. He also said that you once told him there were times when you wanted to either smother him or hurl him out of a window for what he had done." Bobby's eyes were like two pieces of ice as he told John what Sam had said. John looked horrified; had he really said those things to his baby boy? Just how badly had he screwed up things with his youngest?
"Apparently, when he told Dean all this, Dean called him a liar. I think that cut deeper and harder than even your words ever did. I'm telling you all this here and now, so that you can see the even bigger problem we might have. If those two Tricksters can get it into Sam's head, the idea that they care about him and accept all that he is... you're going to lose him." Bobby then went back inside to try and figure out some way to find the kid. John had never thought of that. Everyone longed for acceptance from someplace, and John had never given his youngest even the slightest hint that he was welcome. He had never thought grades all that important; after all, what ghost would be impressed by that? Apart from the ghost of a principal, no one. But, what if Sam had gotten grievously injured on a hunt, and couldn't hunt anymore? How would Sam support himself? God, had he been so fixated on revenge that he hadn't even tried to see it from Sam's angle? He never talked about, only ever said... oh God, she had died over his crib, in his nursery. That could have fuelled what he said when he was drunk. But Sam had had no reason to really hunt until his girlfriend was murdered.
God, if he didn't make right with his baby, would it all really be over? Would Sam choose two Tricksters that could possibly give him more love, the love a Kitsune needs in order to survive, over his loser father and his pig-headed brother?
“Try again Sam, but try to keep the fire ball a reasonable size.” Loki said and Sam was starting to get really frustrated with the exercise. They wanted him to create his strongest fire ball... and they wanted it the size of a marble. Something about him being able to burn bright without burning big. He tried again, focusing on simply burning, but the whole thing reminded him of his father and his teaching methods.
“God dammit Sam! You almost brought the whole warehouse down on your brother, me, the bystanders, and the Corocotta! What were you thinking?!” John yelled at his youngest while Dean patched him up.
“Dad, I told you that I'm having trouble controlling the Pyrokinesis! It's connected to my emotions; when I get worried or upset, I lose control! That's why I didn't want to go on the hunt!” Sam shouted right back, ignoring how Dean drove the needle a little deeper into his shoulder than truly necessary.
“You said that you had it under control!”
“No, I said that I had the basics of it down so far; I can actually conjure it now instead of just manipulating it. That doesn't mean that I can control it when I get stressed!”
“You've been working on it for almost six months! Why are you taking so long?!”
“It isn't exactly like there's a manual on Pyrokinesis dad!”
“Don't sass me Samuel! You're not too old to be reminded of your place!”
“My place isn't underneath your thumb! You never try and see this from my stand-point! I discover something new and you want me to be able to control it within the week that it's discovered! How can I when everything I'm learning is by trial and error? I have no one to teach me how to use this stuff!”
“Sammy, dad's just worried about how you maybe shouldn't use your powers till you get a grip on them.” Dean tried to be the voice of reason between the two.
“And what was I supposed to do Dean? Let the Corocotta make a chew toy out of you?”
“Don't blame your brother just because you don't know how to follow orders or control yourself!” John yelled at Sam and in that moment, Sam discovered he had another ability; teleportation.
The strain of the memory cost Sam his control, causing Loki and Cas to extinguish the fire rings that had developed around him and were about to destroy everything in their path. Sam sank down to his knees as Cas suggested they take a break. He and Loki came over, and had Sam sit in a chair before offering him some water.
“We weren't exactly expecting fire rings Sammy-kins. You want a lion to jump through those hoops? You know I can easily make one.” Loki said as he sat beside him.
“I know and I don't want that; I didn't mean for it to happen, I really didn't. I just...”
“Got lost in your memories again?” Cas filled in and Sam just nodded. This was getting serious; three times now, Sam had almost gotten hurt because his memories distracted him. What surprised Cas, is that this time Sam talked about it.
“We were hunting a Corocotta; it had taken several victims between twelve and sixteen and we were determined to stop it. I didn't want to go on the hunt because I had only just managed to get the... ABC's of Pyrokinesis if you will and I didn't want to take a chance on someone getting hurt. Of course, my dad didn't listen, being the stubborn ass that he is. Apparently though, the Corocotta had been saving a couple of victims, and it was my job to get them safely out. However, it had come back and we had to kill it there and then while protecting the kids. The thing had knocked away my gun and my dad was pinned against a wall while Dean was pinned underneath the Corocotta. I only meant to scare the Corocotta away from Dean; instead the warehouse went up like a paint factory. My dad said that I wasn't trying hard enough to control it, I told him that I didn't exactly have a manual of what to expect, and of course Dean took dad's side, leaving me on the outside. It was during that argument that I found out that I have teleportation.” Sam finished and the other two had to fight back sighs at this. Elemental abilities, such as Pyrokinesis were very hard to get under control, and it was made even harder if the person had a volatile temper. The only thing that was more dangerous than Pyrokinesis was Terrakinesis, seeing as how if the person got pissed enough, there was the potential of them destroying a town or even causing natural disasters such as volcanoes to go off. Maybe even splitting the Earth in half. Many knew this, and it made them rather conscious of their faults when it comes to anger. Sam didn't need dressing down from his father for something that wasn't even his fault. Especially when John had no right to say anything; it wasn't exactly like it was hereditary.
“Did you know that there are different types of Kitsune?” Loki suddenly asked and Sam simply shook his head, a little stunned at the sudden change in subject.
“I'm not surprised, all but the fire ones stay hidden from human eyes because it's the fire ones that love to play tricks on people. Therefore, people assume that there is only one type of Kitsune; the fire manipulating, pranking ones. Now, there are snow Kitsune; they live far up north and are often mistaken for snow foxes, except their coats never turn brown or black. They are seen as being rather stand offish and kinda snooty, never really showing any emotion.”
“Like Vulcans?” Sam asked before he could stop himself and the other two laughed.
“Yes nerd-boy, like Vulcans. Instead of their power being centred around fire, theirs are centred around snow and water. Then there are earth Kitsune, who live mostly in deserts, sometimes being mistaken for jackals because of their color. Their attitudes are down to earth, which means that they are sensible without being a bunch of stuck up ass wholes like your arctic friends. As their name/title suggests, they are connected to the earth, which means that they can hurl rocks and boulders at you, they can make plants grow and they can feel it when someone disrespects the earth.”
“Man, they must be gloomy a lot.”
“Yeah, can't say as I've seen a truly happy earth Kitsune in the last fifty years or so. Then, there are wind Kitsune, who are very loopy and have a great sense of fun, even though they don't pester humans. They are found only in the highest peaks of certain mountains where the air is still mostly fresh. They can use their tail's rather like propellers and actually fly with them.”
“And I'm a fire Kitsune.” Sam concluded but Loki shook his head.
“I wasn't finished; the last breed of Kitsune are the rarest and most powerful of all. They are called storm Kitsune. They are so called because they are able to control all of the elements. Air and wind, cold and ice, earth, fire and heat, electricity, metal, water and moisture; they control it all. They can summon snow on the hottest day in July, summon water in the Sahara, call down electricity from a benign sky and so on. They are a very secretive bunch that, thankfully prefer peace over war and chaos, otherwise they could very well take over and you'd never even really know it until it was too late. Especially because I saw what one who had a talent for wind manipulation get angry at someone once; they sucked the air right out of a persons lungs until they almost died of suffocation. Another one with metal manipulation used a person's own gun to kill them; they just used their abilities to grab it, turned it on them, and fired.”
“Is the point of this that I understand there are those worse off than me?” Sam asked and it was Cas who answered
“Something that Loki didn't mention is that fire Kitsune can be rather sadistic; sometime even attacking their own kind for no reason. Also, these people do have people to teach them how to control their tempers.”
“So your saying that once I fully embrace what my powers are, I'll be like that?”
“Sam, personality isn't governed by what we are, but by our choices and how we react to situations. Besides which, storm Kitsune are very loving people that would rather not fight, but will do so when aggravated. Also, they are firm believers in their own opinions, but are not so pig-headed that they will not listen to the other so long as it's presented the right way.”
“What's that got to do with anything?” Sam asked, though he thought he may just have an idea of what they were talking about.
“Whenever you got really angry, did electricity maybe spark from your hands? Maybe you thought it was only a built up charge of static electricity. When you got mad at your dad, did hail suddenly appear out of nowhere? A freak hailstorm perhaps? When you've gotten scared, did an earthquake happen at the same time?” Cas asked and Sam thought he was nuts before Loki asked
“Do you get claustrophobic in tight spaces? Not the Impala precisely, but other places where some find it hard to breathe? If at all possible, do you keep a window open in your room at all times?”
“Storm Kitsune can easily get claustrophobic Sam; it's not part of their nature to be locked up, they are meant to run free, with nothing holding them back.”
“Uh, I think we should get back to practising.” Sam said as he quickly got up and started working on his fireball again. The two looked at each other; they would need to look further into the situation before they tried that again. Unfortunately, it seemed the only way they would be able to tell for certain would be to put him in some sort of danger that would force him to do such a thing. Despite what people thought of them, they didn't want to hurt Sammy unless he provoked them or gave them reason to believe he would become a threat to them.
“Sam? How about we leave that for now; your agitated and worried, you won't be able to create the kind of fireball we want. What do you say we work on your shape shifting abilities? You told us that your dad wouldn't really let you practice that one.” Sam looked at them and simply shrugged.
“If you want, what do you want me to try first?”
“Let's try some simple stuff. Hmm, turn your eyes silver, change your hair to red, and make a scar appear on you face.” Cas suggested and Sam nodded before closing his eyes to visualize what they wanted. His hair started to lighten and they saw the beginning's of a scar over his left eye. When he opened his eyes, they were a mixture of blue, silver, and green.
“Not bad, not bad at all, for your first try.” Loki said as he undid everything. He was about to turn away when Cas grabbed his arm in a vice. He quickly turned back around and saw Sam had a nose-bleed that looked like Niagara Falls just before he passed out. The two just managed to catch him before he hit the ground.
“I don't get it! It was a simple transformation! Nothing extreme!” Loki said before they transported to Sam's room.
“I think we were pushing him too quickly to soon; first the fireball, then the idea that he might be a Storm Kitsune, then the shape shifting. Don't forget; his father used him as a weapon, he hid the whole thing while he was at Stanford, and he's been working on that locator ability of his.” Cas said as the gently laid Sam on his bed. Loki absently waived his hand and Sam was in pyjama bottoms.
“I know Cassie! It's not like I want to see him in pain, but we have to figure out just what abilities he has! Azazel was supposed to create an Anti-Christ, not a Kitsune! There has got to be a reason and I want to know it!” Cas watched as his lover left the room. He looked down at Sam and thought 'Loki, don't forget that curiosity killed the cat. But I won't deny, you are an interesting puzzle Sam Winchester. I look forward to figuring you out.'
"Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba Sithi uhm ingonyama!" Sam was startled awake as his alarm clock, instead of the simple 'beep, beep, beep', played the first couple of lines of Lion King's 'Circle of life'. Rather loudly.
"Loki! I've told you to stop messing with my alarm!" Sam shouted through the closed door, though he was quite certain he heard Loki's cackle through it.
"Laugh it up you over grown seagull. I will find a way to get back at you for that." Sam mumbled as he got up out of bed. He had been with the aforementioned over grown seagull and Cas for nearly five weeks (and last week, he had woken up to rap; he had almost melted the radio and he had managed to fry Loki's ass a little). He still had not quite managed to make a fireball that could melt steel the size of a marble, though he had managed one the size of a volleyball last night, instead of one's the size of a satellite dish. The guys had managed to get his fire rings almost under control as well, though his morphing abilities still gave him a bit of a headache and nosebleed. However, when the guys had seen the problems Sam was having, they had called in a friend of theirs, a fellow named Crowley. Apparently, he was the King of the Crossroads that Sam had just started feeling.
Few days ago
"So, this the tracking system that's been giving so many a run for their money? And the one who's been slowly picking at my brain trying to find me? You know how bloody painful your little excursion feels after a while Moose?"
"Uh, no, not really, I've never had to find myself obviously. All I know is that I get a headache if I try to cross more than two states. And don't call me Moose."
"Well, Moose, I can tell you here and now, it feels like someone is scraping their fingernails along the inside of my skull trying to claw its way out while, at the same time, someone on the outside is using a jackhammer to get inside. Does that sound particularly fun?"
"You'll forgive me if I don't shed any tears over my causing any demons any pain."
"Lively one, ain't he? Alright Moose, you ever think about what your annoying little ability does to the human host?"
"Oh, you mean some actually keep their host alive? They don't just jump off a cliff so as to silence the other voice?"
"Okay, before you two start World War III in my living room- ow! - alright, alright, our living room, can I ask the two of you to cool it? Don't make me dump a bucket of cold water on the two of you!" Loki said, getting between the two that looked about ready to kill each other. He knew he was standing between two Juggernauts; neither would give so much as an inch without a big bloody battle to mark the occasion.
"So, exactly what is it that the moose is having trouble with that I have to help with?" Crowley asked his only true friends (minus said moose).
Sam had to admit, though he was loathe to do so, Crowley was a tough but fair teacher. His annoying snarkiness was what had enabled Sam to finally be able to get his fireballs close to their desired size. Crowley was so annoying in his infuriating superiority, that it pushed you to try and show him up. When he had finally gotten a powerful fireball the size of a volleyball, Crowley had admitted his surprise, that the dumb moose had finally managed to begin to get the concept they had been trying to drill into his thick skull. Sam had then punched Crowley, and the snarky git had to admit, it had hurt quite a bit. Today, he was in the gym, trying to improve on his muscle mass and tone.
"So this is where the giraffe goes to blow some steam?" Speak of the snarky devil and his snarkiness shall appear.
"Go away Crowley; I'm trying to figure out why I'm having trouble with morphing."
"Yeah, should be an easy ability to grasp, even for you; you mean to tell me that you never wanted to be someone else?"
"All my life, I've wanted to be anything but a hunter!" Sam said as he pounded the punching bag.
"Well, that's what you don't want to be, but what about being someone else?" Crowley asked as he circled Sam.
"What's the difference?"
"Same thing between what you want and what you need. You want to be human, but you also want to make your daddy proud of you. What you need to do, is let go of everything your father ever told you about what was normal and human."
"I don't give a shit about what he thinks is normal! I told him I thought there were monsters in my closet? He gives me a gun! That is not normal!"
"Neither is being able to create fire out of thin air or being able to teleport according to your father! Don't you see Moose? You're trying so hard to be normal, you're not being true to yourself, who you really are. You need to let go of what everyone wants, and focus on what you need."
"So, I'm so caught up in how my dad, Bobby, Dean, everyone wants me to be normal, that I'm ignoring what I need to do?" Sam asked and Crowley nodded.
"So, what do I need to do?"
"How long did you hide what you were from Jess?"
"It wasn't a question of hiding; she actually was able to figure it out what I was by how I acted."
"And when she found out what you were, did she turn away in disgust?" Sam gave a bittersweet smile at the question.
"No, all she could do was ask what I could do, how strong were my flames, how far could I teleport, why I didn't go around pranking people; she even helped me pick some targets. I'll admit, what I did was nothing compared to Loki; I'm in the minor leagues compared to him, but she always had good ideas. For example, there was this guy who was a real player, a bit like Dean, but a lot more cruel; Dean will have sex, and then leave, he doesn't take a picture of you sleeping and then flash it and your panties around campus. Of course, the first part was done via the internet, so they couldn't tell it was him, and there's no crime or penalty for being a man whore, so there wasn't much anyone could do. Then he started hitting on Jess and I admit I got a little mad; whenever he hit on a woman, he gained a pound in fat, lost a pound in muscle, gained a pimple on his face (starting with a nice big fat one on his nose), and lost an inch in his dick." Sam said with a smirk that Crowley copied
"He gains what he hates and loses what he needs to seduce them; not bad for an amateur. So what happened?"
"When he didn't back off, we did another feature; he lost his hair and gained B.O. No matter for long or hard he showered or how strong the deodorant was, he still smelled like the pig he was. However, what we hadn't anticipated was just how strong his libido was; he tried to rape someone. Thankfully, Jess and I were in the area so we got there before he could do anything; he had second and first degree burns on his body when they found him. It was in the Chem lab so the girl said that after I threw him off of her, he must have knocked over a Bunsen burner that had been left on and was burned that way."
"So, while you were with Jess, you didn't feel like a freak at all?" Crowley said and Sam shook his head before realizing what Crowley was doing; his dad had thought he was a freak, a monster, Jess had thought he was something worth loving. With only minor effort, he changed his features into that of Jess and said
"I think you and her would have gotten along fine; you both can make me think of things I forgot or hadn't thought of before. When I told her of what my dad thought of my powers she told me to fuck what he thinks. What mattered was what I thought about myself."
"And she's right so, what do you think about yourself and your powers?" Sam then shifted into John
"If it ain't human, then it deserves to be destroyed; if it wasn't for Dean hanging around so much, I would have hurled this thing out of the window when it was a baby for killing Mary. The only good thing about keeping it alive is that soon, it'll be able to track Yellow-eyes and I'll be able to kill him. But if I die in the process, I'll make sure to tell Dean to kill the mutt if it gives in to its instincts." John then shifted into Dean
"What can I say? I always wanted a puppy, and Sam is as good as one, 'cept when he disobeys. He needs to learn that dad is always right, that Sam is just a kid and he doesn't know shit. It took a lot of convincing on my part to let me keep him and then he ditches family for college girls and books? And all that shit about dad abusing him? Come on, dad may discipline when necessary, but he wouldn't out and out abuse him, that's nuts, Sam has to be lying. Someone needs to housebreak that dog before it starts thinking its human." Then, Sam attempted to shift back, but he ended up as Bobby instead
"I'm beginning to think that being an idjit is a genetic trait to being a Winchester. John and Dean don't even see what they're doing to that boy and pretty soon, it'll be too late. Sam may have a darkness to him, no denying that, but he's got a lot of good in him too. John and Dean need to look past Sam's powers and abilities and all that they think they know about him, 'cause if they do, I think they'll find a scared little boy that's still looking for his daddy and big brother, not a dog looking for a master." Then, Sam was able to change back to himself and sighed.
"I'd like to think that I have as much right as anybody does to walk around and not constantly be referred to as a puppy or boy. I mean, at least part of my DNA has to be human right? And even if it wasn't, I've never hurt anybody that didn't deserve it! My dad is always going on and on about how things are black and white; the world, nature itself isn't like that! There are many shades and levels of grey. The humans that Tricksters go after are the ones you wish you could go after, but the law says that you can't! Some creatures just want to be left alone, while there are humans who rob and rape and kill, sometimes little kids! Maybe I'm not human and I'll never be my dad's idea of normal, but that does not make me a monster!" As Sam finished, dark blue, almost black fox ears popped out out the top of his head, and nine fox tails sprouted from his tail bone. These too were dark blue, almost black but when Crowley took another look, he saw that both the tails and ears were tipped with dark purple, like storm clouds.
"Looks like Cas and Loki were right; you are a Storm Kitsune." Crowley remarked as he summoned a full length mirror for Sam to see himself in. Sam was shocked at the sight and he touched his tails to make sure they were real.
"I guess I've got a lot more training to do huh?"
"Something even the wisest man on earth knows; there's always something new to learn."
Two more weeks passed after that before the three of them decided Sam was ready for actual 'field training' (i.e. Pranking). He had been a little worried, telling them time and again that he really didn't want to kill anyone. Cas was the one who assured him that he didn't have to kill exactly, he just had to make sure that his target learned their lessons. Loki, in a few instances, had carried his pranks just a little too far, and that was when people died. To start, they gave him an easy target; they took him to the woods, where there lived an old fisherman, who cared very little for others lives.
"You see him sitting in his boat? All he does most days is fish, drink beer in his boat, pollute the lake with his garbage, then leave any fish he doesn't want, on the beach to die of suffocation and be eaten by scavengers. His name is Harry Thompson, he had two kids, one died of influenza, one moved away with his mother, became a Dean at a university, yadda yadda yadda. In short, even if you do accidentally kill the old bugger, nobody will miss him." Loki explained as they stood on their dock on the opposite side of Mr. Thompson's log cabin. Sam could see Mr. Thompson fairly well (another advantage of being a Storm Kitsune; great eyesight) in his boat in the middle of the lake; he was a man in his late forties to early fifties, with brown hair that was starting to turn grey, a strong chin, steely grey eyes that held no kindness what so ever in them, and that lack of kindness was reflected in his face.
"So, what do you want me to do?"
"This is your trial run Sammy; do what you want, just make sure he learns to respect mother nature." Cas said and Sam nodded, telling them that he wanted a few days to learn his target. He followed him around, and saw that he treated others like he treated fish and the lake; lousy and with little dignity. He had seen a girl that was wearing a skirt a little south of the knee, and Thompson called her a hooker. A very nice African-American couple ran a bait and tackle shop in town, and Thompson called them a couple of Coons. Sam had a hard time not wanting to strangle the asswipe (a/n: is that how you spell it? I've never really seen it written down), and also coming up with a suitable punishment for him. Finally, he started out with subtlety; nightmares.
He made it so every night he was haunted by dreams of being left to die in arid deserts with no food and no water. When that didn't seem to get the message across, he made the dreams more specific; he was a fish that either died of suffocation from being on land, or from the pollution he was causing in the lake. While the guy seemed to be a bit shaken over the realistic dreams, he only seemed to get even crabbier over his lack of sleep. Sam knew that if he was being graded, he would be lucky if he was getting a 'D' right now. He still didn't want to enter Loki's level of dealing with impossible people just yet, mainly because he was nervous about hurting Thompson (jerk that he was) beyond repair, like he had the jerk from college. Cas told him that if Sam got really stuck, then they could help him, but he had a feeling it would count against him. He decided to step up his game a little, though going back to level 1 as it were. He made it seem as if the fish were talking to him, telling him to stop polluting their lake, and begging to be put back, rather than being left to die such a painful death. The guy was starting to think he was due for the loony bin, but he still refused to heed the advice. The final straw came when Sam was trying to clean up the lake by swimming in it (definitely not a pleasant experience at all); Thompson had decided to go fishing around that same time and, as usual, when he was done, he dumped his garbage into the lake, an almost full can of beer hit Sam in the head, disorientating him, which was why, even under water, Sam didn't hear the propeller, but he felt it as it ripped through his shoulder blade. Sam's shoulder started bleeding profusely, and he had no way of getting back to shore with how mangled his shoulder was. As Sam fell deeper into the lake, he started to lose consciousness and the last thing he felt was a pair of arms grabbing him by the waist and pulling him upwards. When Sam came to, he was on his bed, his shoulder securely bandaged, and in warm, dry clothes.
"You know, it's OK to hurt the target a little, even if you don't mean to kill them. What is not OK however is the target hurting you!" Loki said and Sam managed to raise himself up a little to look at him and the others standing behind him. What surprised him was that it was Crowley that looked wet, as if he had been the one to save him, but he knew Crowley and he did not get along.
"Before you say anything Moose, I was watching your so-called progress when the boat decided to slice you like a ham and I saw the blood come to the surface. These two idiots weren't around and, knowing they would tear me a new one if I didn't do my job and babysit you, I had to dive in to get you." Crowley said and Sam just nodded before asking
"Couldn't they have teleported to get me faster then you could swim?" Loki could sense trouble brewing so, once again, he tried to diffuse the situation.
"Never mind; Sam, I don't think you're getting through to this guy. You're shaking him up, but you're not making him learn his lesson!"
"I'm trying to do this without killing him! But, as you said, he obviously isn't getting the message. I have one last act to try, before I try something that could get him killed. Hell, even this might get the bastard killed!" Sam explained as he stood up, his shoulder hurt like a bitch so he focused on healing it; he wasn't terribly good at healing, but he could at least remove some of the discomfort. That night, he set his plan in motion; he approached the guy as he came back from dinner.
"What do you want, kid?"
"I want you to stop over fishing the lake and I want you to stop polluting it; you're ruining it for everyone else; Almost 40 years ago parents brought their children down here to play in this lake. Now however, thanks to your polluting, the new parents are afraid their kids will get sick or hurt from swimming in this lake."
"Who's going to make me? A punk kid like you?"
"You know, that's your third biggest problem; you judge people by their first appearance, you never take time to actually know them or their stories. That girl you called a hooker? Her family doesn't make much money, so she has to make her clothes last for as long as they can, which means that skirt was from three years ago, before she had a growth spurt, when the tip of the skirt reached below her knee, rather than above it. The couple who run the bait and tackle shop? Her great grandmother was killed for a crime she didn't even commit! And his father was killed by the KKK all because he was a, as you call them, coon. Then, there's me; I went to Stanford on a scholarship, had a great average, one hell of a beautiful girlfriend, and you call me a punk."
"This going somewhere college boy?"
"Clean up your act before it goes any farther."
"I don't take threats from punk kids like you!" Thompson shouted as he pushed Sam down, making Sam land on his bandaged shoulder, causing the pain to shoot up again. Then Sam's powers took over, making him look like a giant Koi fish, and a lot of fish came out of the lake, marching on their tails.
"I told you to respect others, but no, you wouldn't listen! You disrespect everyone and everything you come into contact with! Your wife, your kids, other people, even the Earth itself! If you refuse to show the respect due to others, then why do you deserve any respect?" Sam's voice sounded gurgled, as if he really was a creature from the depths of the lake, come up seeking revenge.
"Who... What are you?" Thompson asked as the smaller fish surrounded him.
"I am the guardian of the lake whose shoulder you slashed with your propeller while trying to clean your mess today! I am the guardian of the waters that you have been mucking up with your garbage, making it hard for us to breathe! I am the guardian of the fish that you've been over fishing for no reason and leaving to die on these very beaches! I am the one who has been trying to teach and help you with your dreams, but since you do not wish to learn the easy way, you shall learn the hard way!" As Sam spoke, the other fish swarmed all over Thompson, dragging him into the lake. They kept him under just long enough that he passed out, and they brought him back on land. When he came to, he saw Sam, still a catfish, standing over him.
"This is your last warning; either respect others, especially mother nature, or next time we will not let you come up for air!" The guy screamed and ran for his truck. He landed in a mental institution, always talking about a giant fish that was trying to kill him; he's in charge of the gardens and little ponds with Koi fish as part of his therapy.
"Well, done Sammy! That was superb!" Cas said as Sam returned to his normal form, feeling a little dehydrated and tired.
"Not to mention funny!" Loki said as he and Crowley both came into sight as well.
"And you even managed to do it without killing him; bonus points." Crowley added with a smirk.
"I don't really understand what happened; when the pain became too much, I guess instinct took over. How did I do?" Sam asked as he looked at his 'evaluators'.
"A little slow to start off, but that shouldn't really count against you, however, the slash on your shoulder sadly does; you're supposed to hurt him, not the other way around. But, points for creativity, always, so you'd get an 'A', though, as Crowley stated, bonus points for not killing him, so, 'A+' kiddo! Though don't let it go to you're head; you still have a few more trials before you are a fully fledged Trickster!" Loki said with a laugh as he and the others all disappeared from the lake.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6 pt. 1
WARNING! USE OF THE WORD N****R! Please don't hate me or call me a racist!
Chapter 6, part 1
Sam was watching his latest target, learning him and his habits, and feeling disgust at what he was seeing; one of 'New York's finest' was taking a bribe from a drug dealer who dealt to anyone with cash. What made this particular bastard worst than most dealers, was that he started people off with the good stuff for cheap, and as people needed more of it, you either had to pay a higher price each time, or you had to deal with low quality stuff. Sam didn't know how many people this scum bag was killing, both physically and spiritually, with his poison, but he was not Sam's target; Sam's target was the rat in the blue uniform who was supposed to be protecting the city from scum like this, and was instead condemning it.
“Sergeant Chris Ramsey, a low ass piece of scum that dared mock the authority he swore to uphold. Say hello to your new target Sammy; for a price he'll do what whatever you want, destroy/tamper with evidence, tamper with witnesses, he'll blackmail people into forgetting what they've seen, beat a confession out of innocent people, he's even killed a few who refused to back down. Then, there's the part you'll no doubt like; he treats junkies, prostitutes, and homeless people as second class citizens, like they chose that way of life (his motto? God forbid they should get a real job). An added bonus to his charm? He's a racist, white supremacist homophobe; you know, the kind that believes a white kid shot a gay black kid in self defence, whereas, in the reverse situation, the black kid shot the white kid in pure, cold blooded murder or during a 'lover's spat'. I wanted to make sure you got a nice juicy case as your second test.” Loki explained from the cafe they were sitting in, watching Sam's test subject number 2.
“Well, he's definitely scum, but I don't think a dirty cop is kill worthy.” Sam said and he noticed the others all nodded.
“We agree with you on that Sammy, so, any ideas?” Cas asked before he sipped his tea.
“Well, the bit that worked last time won't work here; what am I going to do? Make a bad George Romero remake with a cast of everyone he's directly or indirectly killed?”
“Well, that would be interesting to see.” Crowley remarked as he ate his doughnut.
“OK, if I can't come up with anything else, I'll go with that. I just... what's the point of being something-”
“Someone.” Cas interjected with a very small glare and Sam continued
“Someone that is supposed to be a teacher, if I kill the one I'm supposed to teach?” Sam asked as he sipped his coffee.
“Sam, some people just can't be taught, and they're ones in which you're going to have to kill sooner or later. You remember that perv I killed back in Crawford hall? Let's just say sometimes his attention ran to a more... impressionable age of girl than simple college girls.” Sam thought he was going to be sick.
“My slow dancing alien's partner? He hazed a lot of wanna-be's that wanted into his fraternity that were humiliated almost to the point of suicide, some were almost expelled for their behaviour during these hazing rituals, a few almost died, and one had to be sent home because of what was done to him causing psychological trauma. He got what he deserved; a taste of his own medicine, and you can bet he'll think twice before hazing someone again. Finally, my gator in the sewer victim? He went against every code in the book during his research, putting those animals through unspeakable torture. Then, there's a little piece of his history that he always failed to mention in casual conversations or talking about his past; almost six years ago, he had his funding cut because he was bringing too much bad publicity to his former college with what he was doing to the animals thanks to organizations like the ASPCA. His solution? His mother's house mysteriously burned to the ground, along with all of her possessions and her. He got a lot of money between house insurance, insurance on the car that went up in flames along with the house (and possibly started it due to some bad wiring that caused a spark to ignite the gasoline spot that the son accidentally spilled), insurance on certain things in the house, his mother's life insurance policy and his inheritance. You don't have to take this to heart Sammy, but there are some you almost enjoy killing.” Sam was really hoping that that was not going to be test number 3; how far he was willing to go and how much he enjoyed it. The three of them had all informed Sam that, after Thompson, he still had four more tests to do, and they would draw an average from his five grades. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, he focused on the matter at hand; Ramsey, the crooked cop.
“Like with Thompson, I'll need a couple of days to get to know my target and his, lesson schedule.” Sam said and the others all smirked, trying to hide their laughter. Sam paid for his coffee, left the shop, turned into a vacant alley, and turned into a raven so that he could follow Ramsey without anyone noticing. Sam the raven noticed that Ramsey and his partner (Millens? Muller? Something like that) seemed to get around a lot. After the drug dealer, the two responded to a domestic disturbance call, with a wife claiming her husband had tried to rape her; they talked to her for five minutes, then left, because whoever heard of a rape between husband and wife, right? Then, there was the matter of a guy possibly O.D.'ing like four blocks away, and they completely ignored it, figuring if the kid was stupid enough to get hooked in the first place, he deserved to die (which he sadly did as there was no one to clear his airways with the paramedics being caught in traffic). There was also the prostitute who refused to blow them for half price, so she got arrested on some bogus charge including drug possession. There were also a few more things that he and his partner did, but Sam felt certain he got the picture, and Sam decided he had seen enough, and he already had a few plans. As a little precursor to his torment, before Sam the Raven flew back to the penthouse Crowley owned, he pooped on Ramsey's uniform. Sam cawed (which was the same as laughing for him) and flew off. As he landed, the others came to talk to him.
“So, how'd it go? You got a plan for him?” Cas asked as Sam plucked out a stray feather from his back; he had gotten animal transformations down for the most part, though there were still a few problems here and there, especially with birds for some reason.
“I think I've got the beginnings of one, but I want to sketch it out and look at possible scenarios, try to come up with one that has the least possibility of killing that sack of demon spit; no offence Crowley.” Sam said absently as he went to his room, unknowingly leaving three stunned men behind him; Sam actually cared about hurting Crowley's feelings and not only that, he thought Crowley was better than the humans (at least this particular bag of pus) his father made him swear to protect. Sam started drawing up possible plans, and there was one in particular he liked, though it would take quite a bit of power to do; memory tampering, bodily changes, and a mass population alteration. He didn't know just how many people he'd be able to hit, or for how long, but hopefully he had enough juice in his bones to pull it off long enough so the guy learned his lesson. With this thought in mind, he started summoning his power, which caused a powerful storm to be summoned along with it, a storm that caused power surges throughout the city, and greatly impressed three men who didn't know where Sam's true power limits were since he started embracing his power. The last thing Sam heard was his window shattering, and the last thing he felt was incredible pain as the lightning that broke his window hit his body with full force.
When Chris woke up the next day, he felt very strange, like he had been drugged or something. He got up, but noticed that instead of his plush bed with five pillows and sheets with an extravagant thread count, he was on a lumpy old mattress, one extremely thin pillow, and a ratty old blanket. He looked around, and saw that instead of his posh room, he was in what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
“What the hell is this shit?” Chris asked, but was shocked when a voice other than his own spoke the words. He happened to glance down at his hand and saw that it was a few shades darker than normal. He leaped from the bed and looked anywhere for even a shard of glass so that he could see himself, but the only glass he could find was broken bottles, either colored in and of themselves, and so could not give a true description of him, or too clear that showed nothing. He finally found found a bathroom (with a really gross toilet) that had something akin to a mirror in it, and when he saw it, he couldn't believe it; he'd somehow been turned into a nigger! (I really despise that word so please don't hate me! This part is kind of like his point of view, and you read only a few lines ago that he was racist!) He felt a burning itch on his arm, and as he bent to scratch it, he saw a lot of needle marks on his arm; great, not only was he a nigger, he was also a druggie! And judging by his living conditions, he was also dirt poor.
“What the fuck happened? I'm comfortably well off, I only take a little bit of coke to be sociable with Joey (his partner), and I'm white! Is this somebody's idea of a joke?!” Chris then went outside, and saw that he was in one of the seedier parts of town, with a lot of junkies, bums, and whores. He became very scared as two more niggers came up to him and said something akin to
“Hey dawg, how's it hangin'?” Before they passed on, and went to someone who looked suspiciously like a drug dealer. Chris was in a panic over what to do; should he call Joey? Maybe call his captain? His wife? When he felt a rumble in his stomach, he felt like he should get something to eat, but how? He didn't have any money, and he had a feeling of how this body got any money for drugs, let alone food, but he didn't think he had much choice in the matter. He then suddenly remembered that there were one or two shelters around here that give out free food, so, hoping that he remembered his way around here (he hadn't been here for five years, back when he was a rookie he went to the shelter. He finally arrived outside it, went inside and was shocked by what he saw; the place was filled to the brim with maybe a couple hundred people, and many of them were arguing amongst themselves. He went over to where they were serving food, and found out they had just run out, and told him to try one of the other shelters. As he was leaving, trying to think of another shelter that was near-by, he got caught up in an argument between two bums, and got a black eye, busted lip, and he was almost certain one of his ribs was fractured. Chris had been an enforcer before, making sure certain drugs went to Vince (the dealer mentioned earlier), and others went to Narcotics, with a small amount going to him and Joey, but he had never been on riot patrol, nor was this body meant for this kind of work or struggle.
He went back outside, wishing he could go to a doctor but he highly doubted that this body had health insurance, so he went to the other two shelters that he knew of in this district, and both were full of people, but out of food. He got into a few more squabbles, one of which managed to break his arm and fracture his rib even more, which made him decide he should find another way of getting food before it completely broke and he really needed to see a doctor. The priest at the last one was able to mend his broken arm, but told him that he should really see a doctor for the rib, but Chris knew the score; no cash, no service. So, he could either scrounge through dumpsters, and possibly face some pretty violent bums who didn't like invaders into their territory, or... he could find a john. He went to the streets, hoping he looked appealing to them, even with his broken arm, but waited almost two hours before a john showed up, and looked at him seriously.
“How much?” Chris wondered for a minute, wondering what was the usual rate for a whore and their john.
“$100 an hour.”
“Are you kidding me? I could get someone half your age for that price!”
“I'm only 27 buddy, you sure you want to chase jail bait?”
“27? Buddy, you better lay off the Meth; you look like you're nearing your forties!” The john was about to walk away when Chris, in his hunger, called out
“I'll let you bareback me; I'm clean, I swear.” The john came back and said
“If you blow me first, I'll throw in an extra fifty.” Chris was revolted by the idea, but he was beyond starving at this point, so he agreed. (If anyone thinks this is too quick for him to abandon his homophobic and righteous attitude, I'm of the mind that getting into fights makes you even hungrier than usual, and most people will do anything to avoid starving).
Warning! Unwanted sex ahead! For those of you who don't find dub-con appealing (unless it's Dean, Lucifer, Castiel or Gabriel doing it to Sam), then I suggest you don't read this part!
They went to a cheap little motel, with the guy making sure Chris understood he's lucky he's not ducking the price of the room from Chris' wages. Chris did what he was told to do, which was humiliating in and of itself, considering if he was in his own body, he could easily take this guy, and strips while the guy does as well. The guy tells him to get on his knees, and he does, and then the guy was shoving his dick in Chris' face, which made him want to gag, but it's not like he has much choice, so he took it into his mouth. Chris had never wanted to throw up more than he did now, just sucking the head of this idiot who didn't think to shower before hand, but he kept thinking about how that hundred and fifty bucks would get him a pretty good meal, along with some dinner if he's lucky, so he just did what the guy wanted. It got pretty hard to do, especially when the guy grabbed him by the back of his head and shoved his cock deeper into his throat.
“Come on bitch, take me all the way down.” Chris never in a million years thought he'd even think these words, but he was beginning to feel sorry for the way he had treated the hook- the prostitutes he and Joey had used over the years. His throat was quickly becoming raw from all this forceful shoving, and he was finding it increasingly hard to breathe. Finally, the guy removed his cock from Chris' throat and Chris tried to catch his breath, when the guy told him to get on the bed and shove his ass up in the air. Chris did as he was told, and the guy got up behind him, gripped his hips, and shoved his cock into Chris' ass. Chris felt like he had never felt anything so painful before; he could feel his inner walls being stretched and ripped almost beyond repair, thus proving that saliva alone was not a good lubricant alone. The guy kept thrusting back and forth and when he finally came, Chris couldn't hold it in any longer and screamed as he felt the guy's seed in his raw, bruised channel.
End of forced lemon!
“You know, you're lucky I don't take the $50 back; if I wanted to fuck a dead person, I would have just had sex with my wife.” The bastard said as he threw down Chris' money and left. Chris picked it up, put it in his jacket pocket, then got up and used the shower, hoping to wash some of the grime away. After his freezing shower, he went outside, trying to think of the nearest place to eat, when two big thugs came up to him.
“Hey now, I don't want any trouble.”
“You should have thought of that before becoming indebted to me. Now, I just saw a john leave you; how much did he give you?”
“$150.” Chris replied and he felt the other goon grope him till he found the money.
“Please! I need that-”
“Now, now, don't worry, I'm only going to take $100; a hungry whore can't make any money to pay me back, and I need you alive or I don't get my money back at all. Any good business man knows you don't kill the one who owes you money.” The fifty was tossed back at him and the guy said
“You still owe me two grand; just remember, if you're having trouble finding clients, I know a few guys who wouldn't mind a go at you. Of course, we'd have to change the sheets after each time, or the blood would stain all the way through.” The guy and his goon then left Chris alone. Chris then ran to a fast food joint, hoping to get something to eat before another loan shark came and took that from him. Things kept getting worse as the day went on; he had to go to another john so he could get more money for his dinner, he had to again give two thirds to the shark, and he had to sleep in a shithole while it was almost ten below out. He knew that he couldn't call anyone; not Joey, not his captain, not even Annie, how could they believe him when he didn't know himself what was going on? As he laid on the old mattress, he remembered what his grandma always said about sinners; some angel, Gabriel or Michael or whoever, would pay judgement on them, paying them what their sins owed. He also had a feeling that this was only the beginning; he had probably over nine years of sinning to atone for, and the way this angel had things going so far, it was going to be a harsh penance.
The Next Day
Chris got up the next day, and saw that things were still the way they had been yesterday. He had to figure out what all of his sins were and maybe, if he begged for forgiveness from the church, he could get his old life back and start making amends. He then started thinking, starting with the seven deadly sins his dad always talked about. OK, gluttony? Yeah, maybe; he wasn't overweight in his old body (well, maybe a few pounds), but he never turned down a second helping of food and when was the last time he gave someone some food or a couple of bucks for a coffee? Next, avarice; he really didn't think he needed to go into that one. Then, there was sloth; well he didn't think anybody minded when on his days off he sat around the pool with a beer lounging in the sun or watch a game on the TV, but then again, did he ever use even a single one of those days off to volunteer down at a shelter? Even once a month would be better than nothing, and he didn't need to be the one who gave them the food; he could have easily have broken up that fight yesterday without getting hurt. Lust? There was more than one prostitute that could attest to his vile habits that he should never have done, let alone cheat on Annie, who wasn't that bad really. Pride? His pride of being a cop was what got him into the whole problem in the first case. Envy? Yeah, he was envious of his superiors, which was what made him become so dirty; he was more interested in promotions than actual justice. Wrath? Another one that he felt he didn't need to go into. With this in mind, he steeled his nerve and again went to the nearest church.
“Greetings my son, how can I help you?” A priest asked him as soon as he stepped in; Chris had to admit the priest unnerved him a little, between his dark suit emphasizing his pale skin and dark hair, as well as his sharp blue eyes, he was very intimidating. His somewhat gravely voice didn't exactly scream friendly either.
“Uh, yeah father, I would like to make a confession; I've done a lot of bad and feel like it's starting to come up on me.”
“Very well my son, why don't we go to the confessional then? My name is Father Casey, though my friends call me Father Cas; I'm new here.” The Father said as he led the way to the booth.
“Bless me Father for I have sinned, I can't remember the last time I took confession, but I have a lot to confess. I don't know how to explain this, but I was a cop, and I did a lot of things to dishonor that badge; I've tampered with evidence, tampered with witness, including putting pressure on them so they forgot what they saw and I've beaten confessions out of honest people. I've also been mean, no horrible to people I've seen as beneath me; prostitutes, junkies, homeless people. I'm also, I was also a white supremacist.”
“Is that all my son? Is there nothing else?”
“I, I think so Father.” Chris said, confused by the way the Father made it sound as if there really was something else he should confess, but Chris couldn't think of anything for the moment.
“You do not wish to confess to the people you have killed in the name of your so-called 'duty'? How many men and women have you killed because they refused to forget what they saw so you could buy that big screen TV you wanted? How many children have lost their parents and how many parents have had to bury their children so you could afford that new car, Lt Ramsey?” The next thing Chris heard was the sound of a gun going off. He ran out and saw that the Father had blown his brains out, but the gun somehow ended up in his hand.
“He shot the Father! He shot the Father! Call the police! Somebody grab him! Don't let him get away!” Chris heard so many voices scream around him and when he turned to look, he saw he was surrounded by all the people in the church.
“I didn't do it, I swear! I didn't fire it!” Chris was then seized and could feel his arm break even further.
“Yeah right, the gun just happened to end up in your hand, and the priest just happened to be shot from your side of the confessional booth, right Chris?” Chris turned and saw his partner Joey, but it was someone else who was his partner, someone whose name tag was 'Lt Chris Ramsey'. This guy was a great deal shorter than Chris really was, he had brown hair and honey brown eyes.
“Please, you gotta believe me! I didn't kill Father Cas! What reason would I have?” Chris pleaded as Joey handcuffed him and marched him to their patrol car.
“Well, your kind seldom need a reason do they? I mean, nine out of ten people are crazy aren't they?” 'Ramsey asked him.
Later in court
Chris was very worried; he knew for a fact the lawyer he had been given was one who won two out of ten cases that he was given and the DA prosecuting him, a tall man with brown hair and harsh blue green eyes named John Singer who seemed like a person who would have the jury eating out of the palm of his hand within five minutes.
“All rise, all rise, for the honourable Judge Crowley.”
“Let me make this clear before we get started; I don't believe that just because someone is a homeless person, they are insane. Therefore, you will have to prove without a doubt that your client is insane before I let this jury make any sort of decision.”
“I'm not insane! I didn't kill the priest! I'm being framed! I'm Chris Ramsey! Please, someone believe me!”
“Your honour, unless he can contain himself, I would suggest that the defendant be removed from these proceedings.” DA Singer remarked.
“I have to agree with you Mr. Singer. Mr. Jahre, unless you can contain your client, he will have to be kept in lock up.” As the trial went on, Chris could almost feel the noose around his neck getting tighter and tighter until finally
“On the charge of first degree murder, we find the defendant guilty.”
“NOOO!” Chris screamed as the jury and the courthouse and the faces of everyone he had ever hurt or killed started to spin and spin around him until he collapsed into his bed. He shot out of bed and found that he was back in his own home, in his own bed, and, frankly, back in his own skin.
“Chris, dear, what's the matter?” His wife asked him and Chris just nodded.
“Yeah, just a nightmare honey.” That was when Chris' phone started ringing. He looked at the caller ID and felt his blood run cold as it read 'John Singer'.
“What you have just experienced was no dream; it really happened to you. You will get dressed, kiss your wife goodbye for the last time, then go down to the DA's office where you will confess to all that you have done, all of it this time Lt Ramsey. You will forfeit your pension, and you will serve no less than seven years in a medium security prison, and if you get ever get out alive, you will not apply to any job that will put you in a position or power or authority ever again. You wont even be a mall cop. You will do all this before the sun sets today, or it shall be your reality for the rest of your days. So you understand?”
“Yes, yes I understand, I'll be down right away.” Chris then hung up.
Outside the house
“A++ Sammy; that was magnificent.” Loki said as Cas and Crowley helped Sam stand up.
“Thanks. Uh, not to sound like a whiner or anything, but could we wait a couple days before going onto my next test? I'm really tired.”
“Sure thing Sammy; we were going to give you a few days off anyways for doing such a good job.” Cas said as the four of them teleported just as Chris came out of the house, in his complete uniform, going to turn himself in.