justasaleswoman | (no subject)

Sam lies awake in the cheap motel bed long after Dean falls into uneasy sleep on the other side of the room, listening to his brother toss and turn. He knows all too well what nightmares sound like, by now.

"What if I had stepped in? Would you let him go?"
"If that was what you wanted, we could certainly discuss it."

Once he makes his decision, it doesn't take him long to stuff a few things into his backpack, take the car keys, and head out.

"Tell you what. When I'm ready to 'discuss' it, I'll come find you. How's that?"
"Pick a crossroads, any crossroads, and give me a call. I'll look forward to it."

The full moon overhead makes it easy for him to see what he's doing as he scrapes through the gravel to the dirt beneath.

Sam puts his Cumberland County Sheriff's ID on top of the rest of the things in the box. He snaps it shut, sets it in the hole, and covers it over with dirt, then gets to his feet.

The roads around him remain empty of anything save the occasional tendril of fog.

Come on, come on, how long's it gonna take?

Sam turns in a slow circle, looking down one after the other.

Really, now. Do these Winchesters think she's just hanging around waiting for the phone to ring, like some silly teenager?

Patience is a virtue.

And you have to give a girl a chance to get ready for a date like this one.

She'll be there soon enough.

"Sam Winchester.

"I've been wondering when I'd hear from you, darling."

"Verity."

There's a beat of silence while he looks her over.

"That is you, isn't it?"

"Aw, Sam, I do hope you weren't expecting someone else."

She spreads her hands, easily, and lets her eyes go red.

"In the flesh."

A beat, while she considers.

"Well, in someone's flesh, if we're going to be technical."

"Figured it wouldn't hurt to check, considering."

He grits his teeth.

"But yeah, you do kinda have a type."

"Guilty as changed."

The red fades out of her eyes and she smiles.

"Funny thing is, though, Sam, when I'm working . . . it's far more about your type than mine."

She wore this just for you, darling.

That it's her type, too, is just a happy coincidence.

"So what can I do for you?"

With one smooth motion, he reaches to the small of his back, draws the Colt from beneath his jacket, and aims it at where her heart would be if Verity had one.

His tone's as cold as the look in his eyes as he informs her,

"Take a guess."

Verity shakes her head, tsking her tongue.

"You're not much of a negotiator, are you?

"You build up to moves like that, you don't open with them.

"Or you have no where to go when things don't go your way."

"That's your job," Sam snaps at her.

"I'm just putting all the cards on the table up front."

"That actually may be a good move for you.

"You don't have much of a poker face."

Verity's eyes drop to the weapon pointed at her for the first time.

"Well, well, well. Looks like the Colt is back in commission.

"How did you pull that off?"

Sam glares.

"None of your fucking business."

"Let me guess," she says, even though she doesn't need to.

She knows how he got his little gun.

"Ruby, right? Had to be.

"She can be such a pain in the ass.

"But she'll get what's coming to her.

"Wait and see."

"That's enough," he says, flatly. "Get your mind back on your work."

His grip tightens on the gun.

"I came here to make you an offer."

Oh, Sam. Are you truly so foolish as to think her mind is ever off it in a place such as this one?

. . . oh, don't bother to answer that.

Verity laughs.

"I'm sorry," she says. "That was rude, but . . . you are going to make me an offer?

"That's just adorable."

He ignores that.

"This is how it's gonna work. You let Dean out of his deal, right here, right now. He lives, I live, and hey, you get to live too. Everyone goes home happy."

A beat.

"Otherwise..."

He cocks the hammer back with his thumb.

"... you stop breathing. Permanently."

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to act scared?"

She takes a step to the side, and then another, moving in an arc around him as she speaks.

"Come on, Sam, weren't you listening? You really don't have the poker face to sell the bullshit you're peddling right now."

She stops, and looks back over her shoulder at him.

"Do you even want to break this deal?"

He turns in a circle as she moves, keeping the barrel trained steady on her and tracking her over the front sight.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he grits. "Of course I do!"

"Are you sure?

"I mean, let's think about this for a minute here, Sam.

"Aren't you tired of it? Of cleaning up after Dean's messes and mistakes, day after day? Dealing with all his issues? Trying to make him see reason?

"To say nothing of taking orders from him. He bosses you around like you're still his snot-nosed kid brother. Like that's all you'll ever be.

"We both know you're better than him. Smarter. Stronger.

"And he doesn't even let you drive."

Demons lie. That's the truism, the credo, the simple fact upon which they build all their lives.

(Except that sometimes they don't, he now knows, but that's Ruby and she's different.)

It's like he'd told Jo when she asked -- even when there's truth mixed in, it's just there to make things worse.

Sometimes a lot worse.

Like now.

"You watch your goddamn mouth."

The Colt's still steady, but his words are trembling with fury.

And it's as true as any oversimplified simple fact.

Which is to say, not very.

You get caught in lies, they're refutable. They can be disproved and dismissed, and then where are you?

A demon like Verity doesn't lie, Sam.

She tells the truth very carefully.

"It's okay, darling. You can admit it.

"You're going through the motions like a good little boy. You'll go on going through the motions, reading book after book, making call after call, visting library after library, grasping at increasingly tiny and fragile straws. Right up until the clock strikes twelve, and the coach goes back to being a pumpkin.

"But won't you be just the tiniest bit relieved when he's gone?"

Edited 2010-07-18 03:09 (UTC)

There's the truth that's found in careful statements, and then there's truth, which isn't the same thing.

Not the same thing at all.

"No," Sam snarls. "You're wrong."

His knuckles are white with the force of his grip on the gun.

"Am I?

"You could have a life without desperate . . . needy . . . sloppy Dean screwing everything up."

She takes two steps closer.

"You could finally be free."

"You know what, I've had just about enough of your lying bullshit," Sam informs her, raising the gun just a little.

"I mean -- this kinda thing is everything you wanted on a freakin' plate. What the hell?"
"Maybe I don't want it anymore, okay?"

"I had a life without my brother in it. And you know what? It fucking sucked."

Except for Jessica, of course, and for the parts that he'd liked -- but the thing is, all of that had been a lie.

This isn't.

Verity shrugs.

"Protest all you want, baby.

"You're still not selling it."

"Fine. Think what you like. I don't care."

Sam's voice hardens.

"You let Dean out of his deal. Right now."

Verity shakes her head, and starts walking back around to her original position, eyes never leaving Sam's.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Dean is old enough to drive, vote, drink, have a bar mitzvah, father a child . . . any definition you pick, your brother's an adult. He made that deal of his own free will, fair and square, no tricks, no loopholes.

"It's ironclad.

"It can't be broken."

"Every deal can be broken," he insists.

"But if you're so all-fired sure this one can't, then I'll just kill you. Once you're gone, so's the deal."

"Oh, Sam. Really?

"You can't be so stupid as to think it's that simple."

His jaw tightens at the insult, but it's not what important.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just a saleswoman, Sam. I've got a boss like everybody.

"My boss holds the contract, not me.

"And between me and you . . . my boss wants Dean's soul. Bad.

"Far too much to let it, or him, go."

The bottom drops out of his stomach.

She sounds so certain.

"You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

Her poker face is better than his, to be sure.

"Well, go ahead and shoot me, if it'll get you off. Shoot her, too," she adds, with a gesture to the body she's wearing. "Hell, two birds with one bullet -- that's a bargain, right?

"But it won't make any difference for you. Or Dean. The deal will still hold. And when your brother's time is up, he'll still get dragged into the pit."

Edited 2010-07-18 03:55 (UTC)

He almost can't hear her over the sound of the sudden hollow ringing in his ears.

No. No. That can't-- this was supposed to be it, Dean was going to be safe--

Sam is barely aware that he's lowered the Colt.

"Then who's your boss? Who holds the contract?"

"Someone you will probably like even less than you like me, darling, should you ever have occasion to meet."

Anger washes through him, blurring the edges of his vision with white.

"I said, who is it?"

"I'm not at liberty to say.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I can't help you. There's almost no one who can.

"Not this time."

Dean's made this bed for both of them.

They're just gonna have to lie in it.

He wants to believe she's lying.

He's absolutely certain she's not.

But just in case...

Sam swallows once, hard, studying the dark-haired figure of the woman in front of him--

(collateral damage)

--then lets out his breath in a sigh as he raises the Colt, aims, and fires a round straight through her forehead.

Her eyes go very wide, and there's a final sharp intake of breath, from one or both of the women he has just killed.

He actually--

Sam Winchester actually--

He lowers the gun and watches in silence as the light crackles and burns inside the mortal shell of flesh and bone, destroying the demon who'd called herself Verity.

You shouldn't have touched my brother.

The body collapses to the ground.

Sam stares down at it for several long moments before he sighs and turns away, toward the Impala.

There's salt and gasoline in the trunk, of course; there always is.

It'll be more than enough to take care of the body.