A Trickster's Daughter

Chapter 19: Lesson One AC/DC Rules

February-ish 2008, Emory, Texas, United States

It'd been almost two week since the whole Mystery Spot fiasco and Sam had only told Dean some of how he acted after he 'died' that Wednesday in that final time loop. How he'd become some hunting machine, taking bigger and bigger cases, all the while looking for any signs of the Trickster. In other words, he'd turned into John Winchester after their mother was killed. Sam had told Dean he became militaristic, ruthlessly efficient, and filled with obsessive rage. Willing to do anything, and risk anyone to achieve his goal of getting Dean back. Sam had told Dean how he took the chance that the decoy Bobby wasn't actually Bobby, but the Trickster, and staked him when he offered to sacrifice himself instead of some innocent guy off the street. Sam, however, didn't reveal the worst thing he did.

Although he had the memories of his time in that time loop he knew he wasn't that Sam, not now. He still had his brother, for now at least, and wasn't broken. The near unbearable pain he had felt when he had to live those six months without Dean became nothing but dulled memories. The pain easing the longer Dean was at his side and became more detached from those memories. He may not be that version of himself anymore, but that didn't ease the horror and guilt at what he did before he confronted the Trickster. The one thing he didn't tell Dean, and especially not Bobby.

He didn't tell either of them that in his obsession to save Dean, and to hurt the Trickster, that he had tracked down Maya, and when she didn't have the ability to help him, he put a stake in her chest. For insurance. A sick feeling would well up inside him whenever it crossed his mind. He killed an innocent girl, someone he had slight fond feelings for, just because of what her father did. He remembered the slight clarity of mind he had before plunging the stake into her chest, the part of him that he was now, trying to dissuade the him that he became. However the larger part that was filled with rage and pain had won out.

Sam wondered what his brother would think of him, of what he'd been willing to do, how far he was willing to fall to get him back.

Bobby would probably shoot him, and not with rounds of rock salt either. It wasn't lost on Sam that the surly old Hunter cared for Maya as he did him and his brother.

Unfortunately, keeping that moment in the time loop secret was never meant to be. Bobby had called with a lead on Bela Talbot, the thief that stole the Colt from them, and Dean wanted to call Maya for a favor. For whatever reason, Dean's brain had selectively remembered that she could teleport objects into her hands, an ability that would be handy to have when stealing the gun back.

Sam knew he had to tell Dean. If only to give Dean a heads up when Maya refused to help them because of what he'd done. He doubted the Trickster kept what happened to Maya in the time loop to himself, so that she wouldn't want to be anywhere near them anymore.

Dean finished writing down Maya's current number that he'd gotten from Bobby, and bid the old Hunter goodbye. He had to argue a little bit with the grouchy old man, but the fact that they weren't going after anything supernatural, and the promise to leave her be if she said no, got him to cough it up.

"All right Sam I've got Goldy's number," Dean waived the paper at him. "You wanna call her? She probably likes you a bit better than me after the bitchcraft fiasco she helped us out with." Dean smirked, remembering Maya's creative play on the word 'witchcraft'. His amused smile lessened when Sam shifted nervously on his bed in their motel room with an uncomfortable look on his face, not meeting his eyes.

"That...that might not be a good idea." Sam's eyes flickered to Dean's confused ones then looked away.

"Okay, dude," Dean was giving him a confused look. "What the hell's going on? Last I checked you two seemed pretty chummy. Probably from being both girls." Dean snarked, but his face pinched when Sam's eyes filled with guilt as he worried his bottom lip. Okay, something was up if Sam wasn't giving him a bitch-face for that comment. "All right, Sam. Spit it out."