Belinda Fanfiction

Retribution

Prologue

Glaring at his reflection he thought to himself, "That two timing son of a bitch is gunna die for what he did to Sam. I'm gunna rip out his insides, string 'em up over the fires of hell, and shove 'em down his fucking mouth till he bleeds black and screams for mercy. No, screw that. I'm gunna feed 'em to his mangy little soul stealing, meat suit wearing minions."

Pay back is a bitch.

Earlier

He could hear it before he attempted to open an eye. The deafening sound of silence. Then the overly happy chirping of birds. The ecstatic squeals of children piercing his senses, reminding him of the good times when they were young boys.

It was all so blatantly obvious, but he wasn't ready.

Not yet.

He needed to stay still for a moment longer. Just a little longer. He wasn't entirely too sure what he would see, but when he opened his eyes it would all become real, and he didn't know if he could do that. He didn't know if he was strong enough to face the truth. 

As he lay on the overused motel bed, springs threatening to dig into his side, he slowly became more attuned to his surroundings. The room was beginning to take on a musky odour, having been deprived of fresh air for over a week. The quiet hum of the ice box, and the faint scent of Sams favourite cheap cologne from Wal-Mart hung in the air.

There was no sound of fingers tapping quietly on the laptop, in search of the unexplained. There was no freshly brewed coffee invading his nostrils, accompanied by hot toasted bagels smothered with cream cheese and spoonfuls of sweet strawberry jelly. There was no one assaulting him with pillows, informing him that it was time to get up, clean up and ship out. There was no one to scold him for stumbling back in the early hours of the morning, tossing boots and jeans into a messy pile on the floor before landing in a clumsy heap face down onto the bed. Simply put, there was no Sam.

His arms feel strangely heavy as he raised his hands and rubbed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. It didn't hurt so much now that the bruises were healing. Sam/Lucifer sure knew how to throw a mean left hook. Running them down his face, he felt the scratch of a course growth, and decided it was time to do what he had been trying in vain to avoid. To face reality.

Laying still he blinked open an eye, and then the other, a faint beam of light peeking through the curtains momentarily blinded him. He had grown accustomed to the dark, so being awake during the day was another reality he had to embrace. Turning his head, he spotted Sams laptop on the table, sitting cold and unused. Jaw ticking, he quickly looked away, but  when they rested on Sams duffel bag he couldn't seem to stop his eyes from watering. Curling his hands into fists, he took deep breaths in an attempt to reel in his emotions. He would give anything right about now just to hear Sam call him a sissy boy.

Empowered with invisible strength, he came to a resolution.

He won't grace the biker bar or the strippers tonight, or any other night. Today was a new beginning, and after taking another glance at Sams duffel bag he awkwardly stood up and grabbed the trashcan. Making his way around the small room he placed the scattered beer bottles into the bin, the dirty laundry tossed onto the unused bed next to his. 

Dragging his feet he made his way to the window and felt a small sense of normalcy, letting the sunlight warm his features when he opened the curtains. It was sweet and inviting, a complete contrast to how he was feeling. Looking out the window he saw children running and playing with the neighborhood dogs. Opening the window he invited the sounds of the outside world into his. A sad smirk crept onto the corner of his mouth.

He thought back to the promise he made to Sam, and god knows he tried to live a normal life if only for a few days. He thought of  Cas, and how big a part he played in the events that lead to Sam being used as Lucifers meat suit. He thought about Bobby and how grateful he was that Cas was able to bring him back to life. But what he wanted more than anything in the whole god for saken world, was his brother. 

The invisible strength he felt earlier was beginning to take hold of him again. From the depths of his soul to the strands of his hair, he was so tired. Tired of hunting, tired of angels and demons, tired of everything. Just plain ole tired of being dicked around. It was time to do things on his terms. Fuck the apocalypse. He was going to break his promise to Sam; he was going to find a way to bring him back. Even if it meant he had to die. Again.

Moving with a renewed purpose he turned away from the window and strode into the bathroom, looking into the mirror.

Glaring at his reflection he thought to himself, "That two timing son of a bitch is gunna die for what he did to Sam. I'm gunna rip out his insides, string 'em up over the fires of hell, and shove 'em down his fucking mouth till he bleeds black and screams for mercy. No screw that, I'm gunna feed 'em to his mangy little soul stealing, meat suit wearing minions."

Payback is a bitch.

A persistent knocking on the motel door drew him out of his thoughts. Sighing heavily he unlatched the chain and turned the lock.

Deans legs buckled beneath him and with a strangled sob he stumbled back.

"Sam?!"

I do not in anyway own Supernatural, I am merely a fan who used Dean and Sam as inspiration for this short piece. 

If you are a follower of the series, you will know that Sam is used by Lucifer as his vessel or 'meat suit'. As much as i wanted to include Chuck into the story (he plays a big part in season 5) I am limited to 1,000 words. This fanfic centres around Dean, and his reaction to Sams absence in his life. It explores the deep bond between brothers, and how the loss of a loved one can either turn you into a bitter twisted man. Or give you strength to finding a solution to making things right again.  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.