Crescendo of the Moon: (11/?)
Mar. 28th, 2006 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pixel_0Previous chapters can be found here.
Eleven
Eleven
The gun on the table watched Sam pace the motel room throughout the night. Its presence alone forced him to the austere realization that if Dean were to attack with nails and teeth, his own brother’s gun would be used against him. It was a thought that, no matter how hard Sam pushed it away, kept returning with feral perseverance.
He knew, rationally, that he could not return to the cave and expect to save Dean from the hundreds of monsters that lurked within the rock walls. The sheer idea of overtaking that many creatures was ludicrous, and in addition to the obvious disadvantage of being outnumbered, he would have also been out of his prime territory. The middle of the desert with limited weapons, fighting against some evil he did not even understand was not where he wanted to wage war. To make matters more frustrating, Sam did not know how much he should push Dean, unsure of his older brother’s current mental stability. He was partially worried that if he fought against Dean, the fragile mind that Dean now held would crack and give way to a greater monster.
But, he couldn’t just leave Dean there.
No, he needed another plan, something that would prepare him for a battle he did not believe he could win. All he had to do, he reminded himself with an angry snort, was survive hundreds of reptiles. The same reptiles who kidnapped children and offered them a chance at immortality. Yet, if the children did not kill for the lizards, then they would be offered up as the blood sacrifice.
Yes, he just had to survive hundreds of these reptiles.
Despite how much knowledge Sam had gained so rapidly in the past few hours, there was still something missing. There was still a vital piece that he needed to pull everything together and complete the mess that was tearing his brain apart.
Why.
Of the millions of children in the country, the lizards chose specific ones. And, out of all the adult males in the city alone, Dean had been chosen because he was, in some way, special to the reptiles.
Perhaps it was the reason for their choice in the beginning that would allow Sam to defeat the lizards. If he knew the “why,” there must have been a “why not,” and that could lead him somewhere. As much as he wanted to go back to the cave, throw a couple sticks of the illegal dynamite Dean had purchased from a vigilante in Texas, and run, Sam knew that doing so was an incredible risk. And, he would not be able to help Dean if he was dead. His best defense—unfortunately—seemed to be knowledge.
So, strapping a pair of switchblades to the inside of his ankle, Sam returned to the library after pacing the small motel room and awaiting Dean’s return for the entire night. He revisited the webpage that listed the names of the missing or deceased children in the town, and then ran the names in through the obituaries to find the children’s parents. When his allotted time on the computer finished so that a gawky teenage girl with a mouthful of metal could check out the Hollywood gossip on her half an hour, Sam took the list of the parents to the reference section to manually flip through the monstrously large phonebook for personal information.
He thought he had just scribbled down the phone number of the parents for a girl who had disappeared five years ago, when there was a gentle tapping on his shoulder. However, he found upon jerking upright, that he had fallen asleep on top of the phone book and the elderly librarian was looking down at him through knotted eyebrows of disapproval.
“Sir,” she said, trying to sound sympathetic although failing to do so with her lips so tightly pursed, “we have a shelter in town, if you need a place to sleep.”
“No, I…college research,” Sam replied, shuffling through his wrinkled papers futilely, but he could see that the lady didn’t believe his answer. Even though he had not looked at himself in a mirror in over twenty-four hours, he could feel the stubble on his face and see the unwashed locks of hair drooping in his eyes.
“Well, perhaps you should go finish your research at the college library,” the lady told him and turned away.
Realizing that he had just been asked to leave, Sam closed the phone book and rose to his feet. He had managed to find all but three numbers of the assortment of parents of his list, and he figured that if needed, he would return to the library later when the domineering librarian had left for the day.
At a gas station a few miles from his first stop, Sam pulled out one of the police uniforms Dean and he had used three hunts ago. In the gas station bathroom, Sam quickly wet his fingers and ran them through his hair to pull it away from his face after he had changed into the navy outfit. Rummaging through the duffel bag containing their various clothes used only for “information gathering,” he produced the remainder of the costume.
Sighing heavily, he strapped on the gun belt and decided that it couldn’t hurt his image any. Besides, he remembered, Dean had been so eager for them to wear the belts when he first stole the uniforms from a local station. Sam rolled his eyes at the memory and finished tacking the pins belonging to an officer whose name he couldn’t remember onto the blue shirt.
He ran his fingers through his hair once more, and then exited the bathroom, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and putting on a pair of sunglasses with his free hand. With the exception of the unofficial Impala, he appeared to be the perfect officer of the law.
When he threw the duffel bag into the backseat and checked the first address, he swore he heard Dean laughing from the passenger seat about how proud he was of his younger brother finally “getting it.”
At all the houses, he used the excuse that crime investigators were reopening the case of the missing and deceased children due to the state’s request. Typically, the parents did not argue when he flashed the badge belonging to a man from over a thousand miles away. Most of the time, they would allow him inside, where he would remove his deceiving sunglasses, slipping one end into his breast pocket, and sit on the couch while they offered him something cold to drink.
“Now,” he would begin after the small talk had ended, and he would lean forward, clasping his hands together sympathetically and relaxing his face to a trusting gaze. “I’m new on the case, taking over for our last officer, so could you please tell me what…who took your child? Just for the record.”
“Escaped criminal from the local prison,” one sandy blonde wife answered as she looked out her beige draped window. Her long pink nails curled underneath her chin and matched the shade of lipstick she wore. “He probably buried her body somewhere in the sand.”
Another father told Sam through a gruff smoker’s timbre, “Must’ve been mountain lion. Never saw claw marks like that in all my life. ‘Course,” he said, lowering his voice as his wife left to put their lemonade glasses in the kitchen sink to soak, “I wouldn’t tell her that. Never gonna tell her what I saw when I had to go to the morgue and identify our daughter’s body.”
A hysterical woman leapt to her feet when Sam asked her the question and screamed, “How should I know what took my son?” Her black curls had bobbed on her shoulders, unsettled and uncontrolled with every shriek and accusative finger pointed. “You should know that! Get out of my house! Get out! How dare you come around asking questions like that!”
He visited couples and single parents, parents remarried when the death of their children split up their first marriages, and parents who, despite having more children after the disappearance of their first, bent their heads and cried at the memories. Some of the people refused to talk to him and slammed the door in his face when he explained that he was from the state headquarters. They yelled that the cops hadn’t done much good before, so the police needn’t get involved in their business again.
At every house where he was invited inside, he took notes in a notebook that used to contain his lab results from a basic chemistry class at college. During a hunt when Dean and he had been forced to spend the night in a forest after a werewolf killing, they had ripped out the viable chemistry notes and used them to start a fire to keep themselves warm. Listening to the men and women talk, he was once again reminded of how his college life was slowly becoming enveloped within the supernatural mess of hunting.
After exhausting his list of people, Sam headed back to the motel room where he looked over the accumulated data. As he had suspected, there was nothing in common between the children except for the age range. Then, halfway through his third read and his bottle of water, he began to notice something else. Quickly, he turned on the laptop and opened the virtual encyclopedia program installed on the portable machine. Following several minutes of clicking and typing, he discovered the first similarity that at last gave him hope that he was finding something worthwhile.
All of the children’s bodies had been found sometime during the day before the night of the new moon that month. If the bodies were found after that night, they were usually in more advanced stages of decay to indicate that it was a possibility that death had occurred on the day of the new moon. Remembering the reptiles’ words to Dean that he had to kill before the morning of the new moon, Sam shook his head.
“Werelizards.” He smacked his hand once against the table hard enough to make it sting all the way through his elbow. “Goddamned werelizards.” Then he buried his head against his chest and began to laugh, allowing the sheer exasperation of his situation overtake him. He rested his arms on the table and placed his chin against them, laughing until his body shook, laughing until he could only hear his own throaty chuckles mingling with sobs, and laughing until he wiped away the pained tears in his eyes.
It was well after midnight when Sam finally finished cleaning and loading the guns. The television was on in front of him, but he was not paying attention to the virtual pictures, as he was fingering the gun beside his hip and merely waiting. There was a jingling of keys outside the door, and he immediately turned off the television and rose to his feet. The gun moved up in one smooth motion of promise. When the door opened, Dean, wearing his leather jacket despite the desert heat, walked through nonchalantly.
He gave Sam only a quick flicker of a gaze, but there was instantly a human veil falling over the blackness in his eyes when he spoke. His words belonged to an actor in Dean’s body instead of the very man himself. “Man, I’ve got to tell you about the night I’ve had! And this blonde! Oh! The things she could do with her—”
The gun clicked and shattered the silence.
Dean’s head snapped up, and he looked up at Sam where the endless black void of the gun stared at him from across the room. There was a momentary flash of fear on his face, which was quickly erased by true confusion and forced concern.
“Sam…?” he began. His pitch did not crack, and he shut the door behind him quietly, not turning his back to Sam.
Sam fought desperately to keep the tremble out of his voice when he spoke. The gun wavered only once, and he tightened his muscles to control himself. A cold chill passed over his skin, and he regretted all of the moments he had failed to act, which had led him up to the present.
This was his brother.
A man. A monster.
Dean in all.
But, Sam spoke and he raised the gun a little higher, wondering if he would have the strength to pull the trigger against the person composed of his own flesh and blood if his life depended upon that choice. “We need to talk,” he said.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-29 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-29 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-29 03:03 am (UTC)That's an understatement... Wow! What a cliffie! Torturing us like that! Werelizards! Well, knowing what they are, Sam can figure out how to kill them, right? But, now my worry is not necessarily whether or not Dean will survive but if he'll still be able to be Dean. But I'm still loving this so damn much!
At every house where he was invited inside, he took notes in a notebook that used to contain his lab results from a basic chemistry class at college. During a hunt when Dean and he had been forced to spend the night in a forest after a werewolf killing, they had ripped out the viable chemistry notes and used them to start a fire to keep themselves warm. Listening to the men and women talk, he was once again reminded of how his college life was slowly becoming enveloped within the supernatural mess of hunting.
I'm not sure why, but I really liked this paragraph. It's not really saying a lot, but what it shows is how Sam is changing/adapting/growing/whatever. And makes me wonder if Sam will go back to college & the pursuit of an apple-pie life after they catch & destroy the demon that killed Mom & Jess.
But, Sam spoke and he raised the gun a little higher, wondering if he would have the strength to pull the trigger against the person composed of his own flesh and blood if his life depended upon that choice.
Oh, poor Sammy!! Part of me is hoping he can't do it b/c, omg how can he kill his brother? But most of me is hoping that he would have the strength to pull the trigger b/c I don't want Sam dead either and because the-Dean-that-still-exists-somewhere wouldn't want to become a creature that kills his brother. Wow, yeah, that made sense before it came out of my head. *g*
Perhaps it was the reason for their choice in the beginning would allow Sam to defeat the lizards. I had to read this sentence like three times before it made sense -- it feels like either there shouldn't be "it was" in the beginning or else there should be a "that" after "beginning".
Dean’s head snapped up, and he looked up at Sam where the endless black void of the gun stared at [his] from across the room. (him instead of his)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-29 03:12 am (UTC)"The gun on the table watched Sam pace the motel room throughout the night."
it just really hit me. Loved it! Can't wait for chap.12!
no subject
Date: 2006-03-29 03:13 am (UTC);-)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-29 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-29 05:21 pm (UTC)Sam just shoot him in the shoulder, put him in the corner, kill the werelizards (fecking ingenious dude) and have Dean very freaked out and not remembering a thing, but maybe flinching when you come near, after realising it was you who had shot him, some banter in regard to asylum and wala you're home free :D
I could save the world if I could be arsed :D
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:28 am (UTC)Hee, yeah, my thoughts exactly. :D I figure it's nice to give the readers a happy moment instead of tearing the crap out of Dean.
The Librarian was a great touch. They always act like that to me too. LOL.
Oh, I know it! I added it in there especially because a chapter or two back Sam was bitching at Dean for falling asleep and now he's getting his butt chewed out. Mwaha. And fate comes around and bites you in the butt, Sammy dear.
Eee, yeah, the talk. I'm writing that chapter right now. I like to refer to it as "Emo Fight Chapter." *winces* It's going to be a doozy. :P
Thank you very much for the review! :)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:29 am (UTC)Thank you very much for the review! :)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:37 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked that part. I almost omitted it when I went, "Well, this really isn't relevant to anything he's talking about." But, at the same point, I just liked how it gave this little glimpse into how, even though Sam's fighting it, the supernatural hunting life is still taking over his collegiate past. It's not a tangent I'm going to explore that much, but I'll poke it into the story ever occasionally.
Part of me is hoping he can't do it b/c, omg how can he kill his brother? But most of me is hoping that he would have the strength to pull the trigger b/c I don't want Sam dead either and because the-Dean-that-still-exists-somewhere wouldn't want to become a creature that kills his brother.
I think either way it would go--Sam shooting Dean or Dean mauling Sam--would just be bad, and I'd get flamed up one side and down the other. Right now--as of this chapter--there's still a pretty good chunk of Dean left as opposed to psycho!Dean. But, I don't think he's above hurting Sam at this point. Killing Sam if necessary? Probably not there just yet.
Argh. Damn typos. Now I'm just embarrassed and angry that I didn't manage to catch those when I gave this the final read-over last night. Would you be willing to do a read-over on the next chapter if it's posted (since you manage to point out the typos later)? Thank you for pointing those out. Changed as noted.
*grumbles* Stupid typos...
Thank you very much for the review--and the little beta-ing there. ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:38 am (UTC);)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:39 am (UTC)Thank you very much for the review! :)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:41 am (UTC)lol. Good ideas, but you know that's just the easy way out, of course. ;) I've got something planned, so I hope it all works out the way I have it. *crosses fingers*
Thank you very much for the review. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 05:39 am (UTC)I'm glad you left it in. I do k now it's not really relevant, but it's one of the little things that make the fic work so well, if that makes sense?
I think either way it would go--Sam shooting Dean or Dean mauling Sam--would just be bad, and I'd get flamed up one side and down the other. Right now--as of this chapter--there's still a pretty good chunk of Dean left as opposed to psycho!Dean. But, I don't think he's above hurting Sam at this point. Killing Sam if necessary? Probably not there just yet.
Well, it wouldn't be a good story without a bit of tension & drama, now would it? I don't know if I like the way you say there's still a pretty good chunk of Dean left right now... should I be worried? *worries for the boys* And, if things do turn out all right in the end, I'm worried how Dean is going to react to intimidating & possibly hurting his brother.
Argh. Damn typos. Now I'm just embarrassed and angry that I didn't manage to catch those when I gave this the final read-over last night. Would you be willing to do a read-over on the next chapter if it's posted (since you manage to point out the typos later)? Thank you for pointing those out. Changed as noted.
Typos are evil creatures. I think there's a typo demon lurking somewhere on the internet, and LJ is its homebase. *g* I'll be more than happy to read whatever whenever. Unfortunately, I can't help myself sometimes from pointing out beta-comments.
I get the feeling we're usually online at different times, b/c you apparently have a life & I don't *g*, but if you ever wanna talk outside of LJ, I'm on MSN, Y!M, and AIM as tabbycat6380.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 03:52 pm (UTC)Indeed. We need to talk about these nasty CLIFFHANGERS!
I love that Sammy can fall back on his strength, research, and knows it. But is it enough to save Dean? I can't see any way out of this one, but that's what makes it such a good story. I'm relying on your skills and imagination to find a way!
::deep breaths, stop worrying, deep breaths::
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 05:15 pm (UTC)...but you know angsty stories are never that easy. ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 05:17 pm (UTC)Cliffhangers? You don't say? Tell me, how does that make you feel? ;)
Ooh, I hope all my skills and imagination come through on this one! I've been scribbling notes and trying to get everything just right for the resolution on all of this (which is becoming quite a mess!).
Don't worry, really. If somebody dies, well, then, erm, yeah, start worrying. But everybody's alive right now! So, it's all good!
Thank you very much for the review! :)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 05:29 pm (UTC)Yeah, it does make sense. It's like the little candy flower on top of the cake instead of just a slab of white frosting. (Is it obvious I've been baking? ;) )
I don't know if I like the way you say there's still a pretty good chunk of Dean left right now... should I be worried? *worries for the boys* And, if things do turn out all right in the end, I'm worried how Dean is going to react to intimidating & possibly hurting his brother.
I wouldn't worry too much, but obviously, that's a lot easier for me to say, of course. I guess the whole thing with the lizards could be described as a degenerative disease of some type. It's slowly breaking Dean down until his human persona is gone and replaced with the lizard one. Does that make sense? I'm having a really hard time trying to figure out just how long I want to drag this out, as it could go on for a really long time, slowly breaking him down. But, at the same point, I know Sam's not going to wait around forever...(Sorry, odd ramblings there.)
Unfortunately, I can't help myself sometimes from pointing out beta-comments. I get the feeling we're usually online at different times, b/c you apparently have a life & I don't *g*, but if you ever wanna talk outside of LJ, I'm on MSN, Y!M, and AIM as tabbycat6380.
Oh, no, I'd rather have you point out the typos. I do the bulk of my own editing and revising, which, I'm starting to learn, isn't such a good thing. I just don't like asking people for help with my stuff is all...Occasionally, I'll have my sister give it a quick read-over if she's got the time, but usually it's just me doing most of it. And, as I've been looking at the words for the last three days, well, you know how things look right to the person that wrote them...
Yeah, I'm a difficult person to catch online. (I miss not having a life! :P) I have AIM, but usually stick with my MSN because that's where my mail comes in. Is your username there under msn.com or hotmail.com? (I don't know if I can add just the tabbycat part.) And while I love LJ, it doesn't quite compare to the power of IM programs.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 05:59 pm (UTC)Hmm you keep saying that, I wonder, are you hinting??
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 06:09 pm (UTC)Of course! But, we all know about my sad, sad attachment to death fics...
Hmm you keep saying that, I wonder, are you hinting??
Hinting? What? Me? *looks innocent*
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 06:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-31 05:18 am (UTC)LoL -- I guess so, sense you know what'll happen (or you at least control what happens) and I don't! *g*
I guess the whole thing with the lizards could be described as a degenerative disease of some type. It's slowly breaking Dean down until his human persona is gone and replaced with the lizard one. Does that make sense? I'm having a really hard time trying to figure out just how long I want to drag this out, as it could go on for a really long time, slowly breaking him down. But, at the same point, I know Sam's not going to wait around forever...(Sorry, odd ramblings there.)
I can see that -- like Dean slowly going mad. But I don't think Sam would put up with it too long.
Oh, no, I'd rather have you point out the typos. I do the bulk of my own editing and revising, which, I'm starting to learn, isn't such a good thing. I just don't like asking people for help with my stuff is all...Occasionally, I'll have my sister give it a quick read-over if she's got the time, but usually it's just me doing most of it. And, as I've been looking at the words for the last three days, well, you know how things look right to the person that wrote them...
Beta readers are always a good thing, b/c once you've read something over and over, the typos are easy to miss. And there's the occasional thing that makes perfect sense to you b/c it's coming from your head/ideas but makes little sense to the reader. But you do really really well without one, which is a lot more than I can say for some people. (i just spent three hours beta'ing mediocre Harry Potter fic)
Yeah, I'm a difficult person to catch online. (I miss not having a life! :P) I have AIM, but usually stick with my MSN because that's where my mail comes in. Is your username there under msn.com or hotmail.com? (I don't know if I can add just the tabbycat part.) And while I love LJ, it doesn't quite compare to the power of IM programs.
LoL -- yeah, sometimes it's nice not to have a life b/c it means I can spend an unhealhy amount of time online. *g* And my username is msn.com.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-31 04:19 pm (UTC)::faints::
no subject
Date: 2006-03-31 11:57 pm (UTC)Ouch! Three hours? I don't think I'd have the ability to keep my attention for that long. I can usually do about an hour tops, beta-ing stuff before the brain just goes "Pfft" and that's all on that one.
Msn.com? All right, I may be emailing you then, if you don't mind, that is. Let me know if it's a problem.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-31 11:57 pm (UTC)Hello? You still there?
How many fingers am I holding up?
no subject
Date: 2006-04-01 04:16 am (UTC)...feel kinda dizzy...
Fingers? I don't remember any fingers. The last thing I do remember is someone saying something about one of my boys dying, but I know I can't have heard that right.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-02 02:20 am (UTC)yep, msn. email or message me anytime!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-02 07:37 pm (UTC)Yep, I'll be contacting you soon. I've been working all weekend, so I haven't had anytime to work on the chapter. It's pretty much been waking up, going to work, coming home to do homework, and then off to bed. Work's a pain in the butt as I'm up uber early, so I go to bed really early, too. :P
no subject
Date: 2006-04-02 07:37 pm (UTC)