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Sam laid back on the bed and smiled. Sometimes he just couldn’t believe his luck. This was his life. His actual life. He had just finished mid-terms and was now enjoying spring break. With friends! With people who actually liked spending time with him, instead of people who wore forced to endure him. With people who talked with him about movies, and politics, and their futures, instead of odd deaths, ancient lore, and the best methods for disinterring a grave. Sure, he was currently staying in another shitty motel in a long, long line of shitty motels in his life, but this was a break from his normal routine. This was a vacation. Hell, he had a queen-sized mattress at home, one he’d spent $528 on last Labor Day. One that he shared every night with his gorgeous, perfect girlfriend.
And Jess, beautiful woman she was, when she laid her head down on the pillow next to Sam, she wasn’t laying on top of guns. Or silver knives. Or salt, or iron, or amulets. Just down-alternative pillows.
Sam had done it. He’d successfully left the life behind. Right now Dad and Dean were probably in some shitty motel somewhere, too. But they wouldn’t be hiking in the Sequoia National Forest tomorrow. They’d be lying to grieving widows or local cops. They wouldn’t be drinking (well, okay, they’d probably be drinking) but they wouldn’t be sitting around a campfire and drinking with friends. Joking, and laughing, and actually enjoying life.
He checked his watch and smiled. The rest of the group should be back to Tucker’s cabin from their hike soon, Sam should head up in the next hour, maybe. Everyone else had started spring break two days before him, while he finished up mid-terms. The cabin wasn’t far, but it was small. Jess didn’t mind sleeping on the couch for the first few nights, but Sam insisted on booking a nearby room for them. Wanted some privacy with her, he said. He grinned to himself thinking about how she got so flushed and flirty when she’d had a few drinks.
Sam was shaken from that pleasant thought when someone started banging on his motel door. Sam sat straight up and instinctively reached for a weapon. He didn’t actually have a gun with him. Of course there was a machete, a silver knife, and salt in his trunk. Old instincts die hard, after all. The banging continued, Sam went to the door but didn’t open it. He looked through the peephole and relaxed when saw it was Tucker. He looked terrified.
“Hey, man, everything okay?” Sam asked as he opened the door.
Tucker walked right inside. He didn’t make eye contact, he just walked in and sat on the corner of the bed. His breathing was shallow, his eyes darted all around. Whatever happened, he was panicking.
“Okay, okay, hey, what’s up? Where is Jess? Is she alright?”
“No man–”
Sam’s whole body tensed. Every nerve snapped to life. Sam felt still, coiled. He was bracing, waiting for whatever Tucker said next. Jess wasn’t okay…she wasn’t okay…
“No, sorry, sorry…I mean, she’s, she’s not hurt or anything like that,” Tucker said, shaking his head. Like he was trying to get straight what he wanted to say.
Sam breathed and let his body relax halfway. He clung to the adrenaline, flexed his muscles to keep himself sharp and poised. Because while Tucker said she hadn’t been hurt, something was clearly very wrong.
“Well, what?”
Tucker looked down at the floor. He wasn’t looking at Sam and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Jess is okay, she’s not hurt. But, there was an accident. And…someone else got hurt. Jess hurt someone. Bad. Like, dead, bad.”
Sam didn’t move. Not a single muscle, maybe not even his heart. Certainly not his lungs. He didn’t blink, didn’t do anything. He just absorbed that. After a few seconds he closed his eyes and took a breath, steading himself.
“Tell me exactly what happened.” Sam’s own voice surprised him. It wasn’t the one he had grown used to. It wasn’t easy and confident and content. It sounded like his dad. Direct. Serious. Commanding.
Tucker’s face snapped up and he made eye contact with Sam for the first time. The panic that had been so visible just a second before was gone. Now there was surprise, curiosity, maybe concern? Sam read it all there in a second. Whatever Sam’s voice and body were doing in this moment had really caught Tucker off guard. He didn’t have time to worry about that now though.
Tucker shook his head again and the panic crept back in. “She um…we have guns, you know? My dad does a lot of hunting, and we were doing some target practice out in the woods behind the house.”
“Okay,” Sam said. He could see where this was going.
“And I guess this guy was like, camping, or whatever…”
“Okay, well, Tucker, this sounds like an honest-to-God accident. Did anyone call 911?”
Tucker looked down again and shook his head. “No, Sam. It wasn’t like that. This guy, he was like, bothering us. He said some really gross stuff to Jess and she just…I don’t know, man. She shot him.”
Sam blinked a few more times. “So, it was self-defense?”
Tucker still wasn’t making eye contact. “I love Jess, you know I do and, yeah, maybe I’d call it that...but it wasn’t like we were in danger, okay? The guy was just being an asshole. I don’t think the cops would call it self-defense.”
Sam didn’t care what Tucker said. Jess would never hurt someone on purpose. She obviously felt threatened. And even if she didn’t, so what? He was supposed to abandon her? Let her deal with cops and questions and whatever else?
Sam exhaled to steady himself again. He did some mental calculations. “Okay. I need details. Where’d she shoot him, outside the cabin? Where’d the bullet hit? Head, body? When did it happen, exactly? I need to know everything.”
That nervous look fell from Tucker’s face again, this time disbelief sat in its place. “Sam…what the fuck are you talking about?”
Sam wanted to slap him, to wake Tucker up. John would have. Instead Sam charged forward and closed the three feet of distance between them, loudly clapping his hands right in front of Tucker’s face. “Hey!” he punctuated the clap with a shout. “Focus for a second and walk me through exactly what happened.”
Tucker flinched at the movement, and the clap, and the yell. Sam took a few steps back to grab the chair from the little table. He placed himself about a half foot away from Tucker. The guy had never been through anything like this, but Sam didn’t have time to walk him through it gently. The guy looked uncertain, confused. Sam clapped his hands again (second warning, next time he would give him a little smack).
“Wake the fuck up, Tucker! Tell me what happened so we can figure out what to do about it.” Again, it was all John Winchester. Something inside him flinched a bit at that realization. Another, smaller part, nodded its approval.
“Uh, yeah, okay…” Tucker looked more confused about Sam than anything else now. Whatever got him to talk through this with Sam was fine. “We were outside, out back. Sarah, David, Angie, Jess and me. We’d just finished up shooting at targets like, ten minutes before, and we were sitting around the firepit having some beers.”
“Okay, tell me about the guy - where’d he come from?”
“He, uh, came up from the south, opposite side of where the road is. He had a hiking pack on and wandered over but stayed sorta close to the treeline, you know? He asked if we’d give him beer or if he could join us, but he was just leering at the girls. Jess, especially, the whole time. I told him to fuck off. He started saying some really gross stuff. Jess told him to fuck off. He took a step closer and David and I got up to, like, I don’t even know. Push him back, I guess? I was watching the guy, I wasn’t looking back at what Jess was doing but she must have grabbed the rifle. And then he called her a cunt and then she just–”
Tucker let his words linger. This was insane. Jess wouldn’t have…she wasn’t like Sam. She didn’t let the things people said about her get under her skin. She didn’t get that intense, searing anger. That flash of wrath that seemed to come up out of nowhere and demand a way out.
Sam didn’t let any emotion pass his face. “What kind of rifle? What caliber? Where’d it hit and how much blood?” Sam pulled up a cognitive map. They were only about a half hour drive from the cabin. There were hardware stores nearby but he wasn’t sure he’d trust Tucker to go and get everything they needed and do it discreetly.
Tucker had that look again, like he was seeing something about Sam he’d never seen before. Well, he was about to see a whole lot more than that. Sam stood up and dug a can of coke out of the little cooler he had. He cracked it open and shoved it into Tucker’s hand. “Here, drink. The sugar will help.”
Tucker did as Sam told him.
“Okay, think, what kind of rifle? How many shots, where’d it hit, and how much blood?” Sam turned back to his luggage. He pulled out a backpack and started to pull a few things from the duffel, including clean clothes. “And what size shoe are you?” Sam grabbed a plastic bag.
“What? I’m a size 12? It was a 243 Winchester, one shot, she hit him, shit I don’t know man? Somewhere in the chest, the lung probably?”
“Exit wound?”
“I don’t- I don’t know. What the hell is happening right now, Sam?”
“If there’s no exit wound there’ll be a lot less blood than if there is. Thoracic cavity is good, it holds a lot of that blood,” he said more to himself. “Did you touch the body, or–”
“Okay, what the fuck, Sam? What the fuck are you talking about?!” Tucker actually stood up, coke can in hand and he looked more angry than anything else.
“I’m talking about cleaning up a mess, Tucker.. What are you talking about? You want to sit here and act confused, then fine. But before I go up there to help Jess, I need to know a few things. Like, did you touch the fucking body?” Sam hissed the last few words. It was something his dad did too, when he didn’t want to argue any more but his anger was far from abated.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tucker said, sitting back down. “I checked for a pulse, to see if he was breathing. He wasn’t.”
Sam shoved the plastic bag and some folded clothes into Tucker’s chest, forcing him to take them. “Go wash your hands in the sink for two minutes. Soap and water. Then take off your clothes and shoes and put them in that bag. Here are some clothes to wear for now. My hiking boots will be a little big on you but just deal with it. Let’s get moving. I want to get to Jess.”
Sam turned back to his duffel and dug out the emergency cash he always had. Just in case. He had a few grand. He thought for a minute. We’ll need shovels, accelerant, a saw. Dad had that Satterlee saw, and at least a few cordless reciprocating saws, those always worked well. Sam would have to use something a bit more rudimentary.
“We’ll need clean clothes for everyone,” Sam muttered himself. He figured the idiots had probably all stomped around in blood and then went in the cabin. “So, we’ll to clean that, too. Peroxide and ammonia.”
“Sam, what–?” Tucker had changed, was watching Sam.
Hardware store for the saw and shovels, nothing suspicious there. Gasoline just at a gas station. And then the cleaning stuff from a grocery store. Sam stretched his neck a bit and tore out the relevant pages from the phone book on the bedside table. They could be at the cabin in a little more than an hour.
“We have to pick up a few things. But, they’re waiting for us, right? No one’s gonna do anything before we get back?” Sam asked.
Tucker was looking less and less panicked and more and more uncomfortable. Good, he’s coming out of shock.
“Yeah, Jess asked me to get you.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Sam watched as Tucker pulled on Sam’s boots. He laced them, then stood there, waiting. “Let’s go, now, Tucker. Get in the car.”
Tucker hadn’t seemed especially surprised when Sam ran into the grocery store for the cleaning supplies. He also got some candy and told Tucker to eat little pieces to help regulate his blood sugar after the shock. When Sam stopped at the gas station and filled up the car, Tucker just kept looking out the windshield, like he was shell-shocked. When Sam filled up a canister with extra gasoline, Tucker watched him with a concern from the side-view mirror.
“It’s not that far to the cabin, you don’t need that extra gas,” Tucker said as Sam climbed back into the car.
Sam just gave a half smile and turned back to face the road.
You’re exposing yourself, here, Sam. John’s voice came up in his head, sharp, hard, certain. How are you going to explain it? You gonna have the guys help you drain and cut the body, or just have them wait with the women inside? Gonna let Jess see you covered in blood and grave dirt? Tell her you know exactly where to cut to separate the limbs from the torso? Wasn’t the whole point was to leave this behind?
Sam answered his own questions, I’ll do what I have to. Jess has earned my help. He gripped the steering wheel.
Atta, boy, Sammy! Sam could practically hear Dean tease. Gonna give those college-kids lessons on corpse dismemberment? Guess some of what dad taught us was worthwhile, huh?
“Oh, no you wanna head north up that road,” Tucker pointed as Sam drove past it.
“Gotta make one last stop. There’s a little mom and pop hardware store another mile or so down the road. Doesn’t look the type to have a lot of security cameras. We just need a few more things.”
“Should I call Jess? Tell her we’re–”
“No. No phones, man, come on.”
“Sure, right…okay.” Tucker sounded kind of out of it. Sam really needed him to get it the fuck together. Tucker was studying film and had made a few small movies and stuff on campus, he wanted to be an actor. He’d need to work on that, because right now he had absolutely no game face. Sam decided not to give him the note right now.
Sam pulled into the hardware store, he didn’t see any security cameras, but he still parked in a far corner, angling away from the front door. “Wait here,” he told Tucker.
Inside Sam grabbed a shovel, a mattock and a digging bar, along with some large pruning sheers. He also grabbed three bow saws. He’d have preferred a bone saw, but figured it was less suspicious to keep with tools that could be used to clear brush, do yard work. There was one, lonely, lo-fi security camera and it was focused on the cash register area. Sam stayed back a little bit in the way John had drilled into him. It was casual and easy. You look down, you shift your weight, get interested in a newspaper or something at the register. Sam paid in cash, took his receipt and left with his tools.
The trunk was a bit small, so Sam opened the backseat and put everything inside.
Tucker watched in disbelief while Sam made his way back to the driver’s seat. “Umm, Sam? Is that…are those hacksaws?”
Sam looked Tucker in the face. “Those are bow saws. Used for yard work, mostly. They can cut through logs with enough elbow grease.”
Tucker nodded. “And the shovel and pickaxe?”
“It’s a mattock, but yes. You use them to dig.”
Sam started the car and backed out onto the main road. After a few miles he pulled into the service road that went up toward the cabin. “Just head north here for a mile or so, yeah?”
Tucker nodded again. He’d grown very pale. Sweaty too. “Sam, you’re really starting to freak me out, here, man. I mean, shovels? Cleaning supplies? Saws?”
Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and made a decision. He needed Tucker to get the fuck on board before they got the cabin. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to look Tucker directly in the face, eyes narrow and sharp.
“Tucker…if it all happened how you say it did then it wasn’t self defense. Even if Jess could fight the charge, plead down, something like that, it would drag her through the whole ordeal. And that’s moot anyway because none of you geniuses called 911. And who knows if they panicked and did something stupid with the body in the hour and half since you left them. Whatever is going on up at that cabin right now, there are charges waiting for all of you, Jess most of all. And I’m not letting her face something like that. So yes. I have shovels. I have cleaning supplies, and I have saws and gasoline. We’re going to deal with this mess.”
“By chopping up a fucking body?!” Tucker looked angry now.
Sam wanted to slap him. Tell him to man the fuck up. John would have. Instead he leveled him with a look. “What exactly were you asking me to do when you knocked on my motel door earlier? If this isn’t what you wanted, then what did you want? Did you want me to cry, to worry, to panic? I don’t do that, Tucker. You don’t know me like you think you do, if you thought this would go some other way.”
And Sam’s voice wasn’t direct and commanding anymore, it was something icy, something harsh. It was almost cruel. But Sam couldn’t make himself care.
“I was pranking you, you fucking psychopath! There is no body! There was no accident, there wasn’t–what the fuck, Sam! Fuck!”
Sam took exactly one second to process that.
Oh, right. Jokes. Pranks. Most people probably wouldn’t have known exactly how to dispose of a body if a friend asked. Most people might get emotional. Not…whatever it was that Sam had been doing.
Sam slapped his mask back on. The one he was always wearing around these guys. He could get out of this, he knew he could. No one ever wants to believe the worst case scenario, they just have to have a different option to buy in to. Another lesson from John Winchester.
So, Sam started laughing, something warm and kind. He let it build and build until he was nearly shaking, whining, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Oh my God, Tucker, finally!”
The fear and anger Tucker had worn a moment before turned back to confusion again. “I’m…I’m sorry, but what the fuck is happening?”
“Dude, I knew you were messing with me. You think there’s any world where Jess just shoots a guy? And even if she had, like, an accident or something, you think Jessica Moore doesn’t immediately call 911? Come on.” Sam kept his laugh going, pushing it out like he’d been holding it back for an hour.
“Ummm….what?” Tucker was still eyeing Sam like he wasn’t quite sure what to believe, but his body looked more relaxed, relieved.
Sam wiped at his eyes. “I thought you were gonna stop me when I had you like, bag your clothes for evidence. And you just did it, you–” Sam interrupted himself with more uproarious laughter. “So, I was like, okay, I’ll get like stuff to clean up blood, then for sure he’ll tell me…but nope! You watched me fill up a canister of gasoline and just…went along with it?” Sam started laughing again like he couldn’t control it.
Tucker laughed too, the anger and fear finally melting away.
“Oh man, I went into that hardware store with no real idea what I was gonna get. I thought a shovel, maybe? A few shovels, I was like, I bet when I hand him a shovel, he’ll break. But then I saw the saws,” Sam forced up more laughter. It really did sound genuine, he thought. “Oh God, I was like, this is too good! And you still let me get in the car!”
Tucker was really laughing now, the relief and the adrenaline and everything catching up. “Oh my God you are such an asshole! Everyone thinks you’re this sweet, boring, dude, but you…you basically tortured me for the last hour!”
“You started it!” Sam was relieved to hear himself sound amused. It was good, he sounded normal. Sounded relaxed. “You could have pumped the brakes at any time, Tucker. But you actually let me get to like, talking about cutting up a body and threatening you to go along with it! That stupid voice I was doing? I was trying to do like a serial killer voice, but I almost burst out laughing! Actually...I’m surprised you couldn’t tell.”
And Sam made himself fall back into a deep, shaking laughter.
“No, Sam, that was literally terrifying. Like, you should get into acting. I nearly pissed myself, I thought for sure you’d done this shit before.”
“Okay, so wait, the big question is who else was in on this? Did Jess okay it? Because I think this is too mean to do to her, but I gotta get back at her somehow…”
“No! No one else is in on it! Jess got poison ivy and was in a calamine lotion bath when I went on the beer run. And I thought you’d like, freak out for five minutes and then I’d tell you I was messing with you.”
“No, I’m way too competitive for that. I have an older brother who used to prank me constantly. If someone’s pranking you, you don’t back off or show fear, you flip it on them.” Sam shrugged, like it was basic knowledge. “Sorry, but you cannot get one over on me, man. You just can’t.”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
“I was in character earlier, but do actually need anything else before we head up to the cabin. Beer, snacks?”
Tucker shook his head. “No. No, you psychopath. We’re good. Let’s go.”
Sam pulled the car out into the road and forced up some more belly laughs. They sounded warm, but his stomach felt cold, tight. Tucker was laughing now, too. Like it was a good joke. He was teasing Sam, teasing himself, talking about how scary it was. Sam laughed at the appropriate intervals and kept his eyes on the road.
Smooth one, Sammy. Dean’s voice was in his head again. I mean, every college guy turns a prank into body disposal 101. Super normal, regular stuff.
Sam rolled his window down and let the smell of clean, pine air drift over him. He would see Jess soon, he and Tucker would laugh and talk about their little prank war. David and Sarah and Angie would tease him, tease Tucker. He would drink beer, he would talk about normal things, and later, Sam and Jess would slip back to their motel room and make each other forget about everything else in the world. He shoved down Dean’s voice. Shoved down John’s. Sam would be happy that he had this. He would hold on to it. He would not let it pass him by.
“Hey, babe!” Jess said as Sam pulled into the driveway. “Missed you!”
Sam climbed out of the car and pulled Jess into his arms. He gave extra kisses to the angry red patches on her arms from the poison ivy.
Tucker climbed out and slammed the door behind. “Jessica Moore, you are dating a complete sociopath. Do you know that? I don't think you know that.”
He launched into the story, laughing, performing, and Sam threw in his own explanations and concessions throughout. Sam laughed, Jess laughed, and spring break started in earnest. Everyone joked about it, talked about it. Would any of them really go that far to help each other? Hide a body? Was Sam’s way even a good way to do it? David talked about alligators, Angie talked about pig farms. Sam laughed while privately thinking it was impractical and cinematic. Most bodies didn’t need more than to be drained, split into pieces, placed in a shallow hole, and burned for a few hours. But he let them talk through their ideas with the sort of arrogance and naivety that came from not having to know.
There were drinking games. There was music. There was laughter and friendship and a sense of warmth that Sam always appreciated with his friends. But, later, when Jess was asleep against his chest, Sam felt cold. He’d thought he left those pieces of himself behind when he came to Stanford. But it was still there. The anger. The sense of clarity. The knowledge. He could hide it, he could keep it tucked away, but the truth was glaring. Sam Winchester would always be a freak.
He turned and kissed Jess. Today he thought she’d needed that part of him, but she didn’t. So, she didn’t need to know about it. Hopefully, she’d never need to know. Sam kissed her again, then turned and tried to quiet his mind and let sleep take him.