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If Sam Winchester could avoid the word Tuesday forever, he would.
For Dean, none of the horrors Sam had witnessed had even happened. Dean died over and over in front of his brother and any time Sam closed his eyes, he saw it. Dean getting run over by a car, Dean getting shot, Dean covered in blood, and on and on it tumbled around in his head.
He thought that maybe once the Trickster had turned everything back to normal he’d start to feel better. However, it was the exact opposite. Sure, he had Dean back. His brother wasn’t going to wake up and die by some freak accident purely because of some sick and twisted life lesson, but that fear was always going to remain.
Sam rolled over in his uncomfortable motel bed and looked at his brother. Dean was fast asleep, his left arm slung over his face while the other hung loosely over the side. The weight of Dean’s demon deal had messed with both of their heads, but especially Dean’s. He either never slept or he slept too much. Dean said that he wasn’t worried, but Sam knew better. His brother was terrified, he just won’t admit that to Sam or himself.
Any time the deal was brought up, Sam felt an ache in his chest. This was his fault, at least that’s what the younger Winchester was choosing to believe. Dean was in this mess because Sam wasn’t strong enough. If he had just done what Yellow Eyes had wanted then his brother’s days wouldn’t be numbered.
This was one of the rare times that Sam wished John was there just so his father could yell at him. Dean wouldn’t do it, but Sam knew that if he asked, his father would have a lecture ready. Whether it was a lecture on how he screwed up or one to stop blaming himself, Sam would have been grateful to receive it.
Sam looked at the alarm clock on the table between their beds. It was just after three in the morning and based on all the thoughts running through his head, he figured he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep for the night.
Careful not wake Dean, Sam slipped out of his bed and shoved his feet into his boots. He pulled on his jacket and ducked outside the motel room for some fresh air. The quiet parking lot was lit by a few streetlights at the entrance and the unsightly flickering neon sign. The Impala sat parked outside their door, flecked with raindrops from an earlier drizzle. Sam leaned against the concrete pillar next to the car, closing his eyes. He let out a breath, letting the cold night air surround him.
“If you’re trying to meditate, might I suggest some lavender oil?” Sam’s eyes slowly opened at the voice just as his teeth clenched. His hand went to his waistband and his frustration grew when he realized he had left his gun inside the room. “Wow, I actually caught a Winchester unarmed. Imagine that.”
Sam turned to his left to see the Trickster, leaning against the hood of the Impala. The smaller man wore a laid-back smile as both his arms and ankles were crossed. His hair was pushed back as usual and he stared at Sam with slight amusement in his whiskey-colored eyes. A picture of pure ease.
“I don’t need a gun to kill you,” Sam threatened.
“No, you need one of those fancy stakes, but…” the Trickster looked Sam over from head to toe, “I don’t think you have one of those on you either.”
“What do you want?” Sam asked through his annoyance. The Trickster shrugged.
“What does anyone want, Sam? A little of this, a little of that. The possibilities are endless,” he said, “I’m more interested in what you want.”
“Why?” Sam asked. “Why would you even care?”
“So many questions,” the Trickster said, “and yet you still haven’t answered mine.”
“You know what I want,” Sam said, his voice low. “You know that I want Dean out of this deal and yet, you still decided to play with our lives just so you can throw it in my face.”
“I tried to teach you a lesson and I believe I succeeded,” the Trickster reminded him. “You needed to know what life would be like without Dean. Not just away from him at school, but with him really being gone.”
“It was torture!”
“It was a wake-up call, Sam,” he said, “at least that’s what it should have been. That is until you went all ‘American Psycho’ and thought it would be a fine idea to drain a human for their blood. Honestly, I really didn’t see that coming.”
“Well, not everything is how you want it to be. You can’t just go around playing with people’s lives and expect them to follow your plan exactly,” Sam spat.
“No, I can’t. That’s someone else’s job,” the Trickster said with a roll of his eyes. Sam’s brow furrowed at the dismissiveness in his voice. The demigod pushed off the car and strolled over to Sam who watched every step, ready to defend himself. However, he knew that if the Trickster wanted, he could take Sam out with a simple snap of his fingers. “Though, I could definitely try,” the Trickster finished.
“What are you doing here?” Sam asked, not wanting to play this game anymore.
“I find you...puzzling,” the shorter man said.
“What?”
“I have lived a long time, Sam,” the Trickster said, “I have met a lot of humans and many of them have been strong like you and your exasperating brother, but none of them have what you have.”
“Which is what?”
“I haven’t quite figured that out just yet,” he said. “Though give me time and I will let you know why you are so interesting to me.”
“Is this you warning me that you’re not going to leave me and Dean alone?” Sam asked.
“Is that what you really want?” the demigod said, taking a few steps closer to Sam. “I would have thought you would have found a puzzle of your own when it comes to me.” Sam stared down at him, looking into those golden eyes. They were pure mischief and Sam wasn’t sure if he liked it or was afraid of it.
“I am not trying to figure you out,” Sam insisted.
“And I don’t believe you. I watched you when we were playing our little game and you never gave up on trying to figure out what was going on or how to hunt me down,” the Trickster, tapped his fingers against the pillar, his hand creeping towards Sam’s arm. “You are always trying to figure things out. Curiosity, determination, rebellion, it’s your whole thing. In fact, you remind me of someone, though he tended to take the whole rebellious thing a bit too far. ”
“I’m not rebellious,” Sam defended.
“No? So you didn’t try to turn your back on your father and brother and their lifestyle? Or how about the fact that even though Dean told you to stop looking into the deal, you still won’t quit?”
“He’s my family. For him, it would be worth it,” Sam countered. The Trickster eyed him again, taking in all of his words. Sam thought the smaller man was thinking of a way to make fun of him, but then he realized the Trickster was actually analyzing what Sam had just said.
“Sometimes Sam, family isn’t everything,” the Trickster said simply.
“And you would know? You have a family?”
“Everyone has a family,” he sighed.
“You don’t sound too fond of yours,” Sam noticed and then frowned, wondering why he was even asking. However, a part of him was curious. In the end, the Trickster was right, he was always trying to figure things out. Sam hated that he was right.
“My family is...difficult. Nobody really gets along and someone is always trying to kill the other.” the Trickster said, his eyes gazing off to somewhere Sam could not see. Personally, the younger Winchester had no desire to meet an entire family of Tricksters and prayed he never would. Yet, perhaps the one before him wasn’t as awful or evil as he first thought.
“Why did you come here tonight?” Sam tried again.
“I already told you,” said the Trickster, “I’m trying to figure you out. It’s not every day I meet someone like you, someone who may end up being a bit of a challenge.” the demigod peered at Sam through his narrowed eyes. “Maybe in more ways than one,” he added.
“I don’t want to fight you,” Sam said, ignoring the intense look.
“Because you know I’ll win?” Sam shrugged. “Well, I will tell you this, Sam, if I were an outsider looking in, I wouldn’t bet against you.”
Sam straightened slightly, looking at the shorter man. He waited for the punchline, but it never came. In fact, the demigod’s expression was completely serious. He meant what he said and a part of Sam was thrilled at the idea of a powerful being, such as the Trickster, thought of him as a worthy opponent.
“You’re very confusing,” Sam admitted. A crooked smile appeared across the Trickster’s face.
“You know what your problem is, kiddo?”
“No, but I am sure you are about to tell me,” Sam said, crossing his arms.
“You’re getting too comfortable living in the shadows, especially in the shadow of your brother. Now, I get it, I got brothers too, but I never made myself smaller just to make sure they were okay. Besides, mine are jackasses anyways.” That got a small smile from Sam. “I foresee big things for you,” the demigod said as he took few steps back.
“Is that one of your powers?” Sam asked.
“Still so curious,” the Trickster said with a smile, “but no, it’s just a feeling. As I said, I’ve known many humans, but none like you.” He took a few more steps back. “You’re not done in any sense of the word, Sam Winchester. With or without Dean, you’re going to change things around here. I can feel it.”
“And I should just take your word for it?” Sam asked, staring after the retreating demigod.
“You can, but I’ll make sure to be around to remind you of it.” The Trickster took a long look at Sam, taking in all the details of his face and body.
“You’re not going to kill anyone again, are you?” Sam questioned.
“It won’t be fun if I just go ahead and spoil it?” he called.
“You and I have very different definitions of fun!” The Trickster laughed and Sam watched him turn in a slow dramatic circle before stopping to face him once more.
“See you around, kiddo,” the Trickster winked and with a click of his fingers, he was gone and Sam was alone again.
Sam stared at the spot where the demigod had vanished and he couldn’t help think about what he had said. Sam was still determined to find a way for Dean to get out of the deal, even if it killed him in the process. However, the Trickster had been so sure that Sam had a future beyond saving his brother. It was two sides of one coin and both were pressing on his mind.
Sam ran his hands through his hair before stuffing both in his pockets. His hand brushed against something and as he drew it from his jacket, he held a piece of paper. Unfolding it, there was a single sentence written in an elegant script. It read:
The shadows can be a lonely place.
Sam read over the note a few times before gently folding it and putting it back in his pocket. He looked out at the parking lot once more before heading back inside his room. He decided that he would find a way to save his brother and maybe even find something about himself along the way.
Funny, he thought, how it took one conversation from an enemy for him to start thinking about it. But then again, was the Trickster really his enemy? Or was he just exactly who Sam needed to talk to?
Sam lay back down, staring at the ceiling and as his eyes fell closed, he didn’t see Dean getting hit by a car or Dean getting shot or covered in blood. He just saw blissful darkness and shining in the dark, was a pair on whiskey-colored eyes.