House of Burden
By: Maygin
The Blah-blah Section: And here's the epilogue… cuz they're fun.
EPILOGUE
…A few days later.
It was a bad day.
Dr. Reidisser had told her to always say what kind of day it was and then what made it that way. She wasn't quite sure what made it bad, but it was. She just felt generally unhappy.
She sat alone in her room on the floor in the corner. Charles had tried to come in a few times, tried to steal her juice, but she screamed and cried and Nurse Emily made him leave. She still felt like crying though. Her room was so big and white and empty; and no one outside the room interested her. She was lonely.
"Natalie?" Nurse Brenda stuck her head through the doorway, looking for her. "Hey sweetie," she said softly with a smile as she neared. Natalie stared at the floor as the woman crouched down next to her, pushing some hair back from her puffy, teary eyes. "What's wrong?"
Natalie tucked her face into her arms. She was extremely lonely, but she didn't want Nurse Brenda, or Nurse Emily or anyone else here for that matter.
Nurse Brenda's hand ran over her head. "You got something in the mail today."
That grabbed Natalie's attention. She never got mail, not ever.
She lifted her head, sitting up straight, searching for the envelope with her special letter. Nurse Brenda smiled and pulled a box from behind her back, holding it out for her.
Natalie's eyes went huge with wonderment. "For me?" It was more than a letter, it was an entire box with something sent just to her. Her name was on the front.
Nurse Brenda smiled openly at her. "Just for your. Open it," she encouraged.
Natalie slowly took the box into her hands like it was a newborn baby. She carefully popped the lid, pulling tissue paper out of the way.
She gasped, eyes widening even further. Suddenly her hands dove into the box, yanking out a stuffed lion which she immediately squeezed against her chest with all her might and love.
"Look at that!" Nurse Brenda said with a chuckle.
"Who sent it? Who sent it?" Natalie bounced on her rear on the hard, marble floor excitedly.
"Let's see," Nurse Brenda lifted the box, searching the front. "Well, there's no return address; it just says 'Thank you. Love, Sam' on the inside lid."
Natalie gasped with childish joy again. "I did good! He told me to do it and I did!"
"Did what?" Nurse Brenda asked curiously.
"He's my bestest friend." She hugged the lion tightly to her chest, rubbing her cheek over its soft mane.
Nurse Brenda smiled warmly. "Okay, well does it have a name?"
"Sammy!" Natalie announced loudly, petting the lion's mane with her hand. She didn't notice an hour later when she still sat by herself in the corner. She was no longer alone. She had her Sammy and she loved him very much.
Dean leaned over the huge dent in the metal, fingering the blasphemous damage with disdain. He reached behind him and picked up a padded mallet. He'd had to completely remove the hood to get to the guts inside. Fortunately, only a few pieces needed replacing. Now he had only cosmetics to worry about. Personally, he was counting his lucky stars the thing hadn't used its claws on his baby or he'd be ordering a new hood instead of beating the crap out of the old one.
Dean ignored the familiar jingling of the bell above the side entrance door.
A minute later, Kevin walked by with his usual, indifferent gait; stopping at the bench along the wall. Dean watched him turn a bored eye toward his baby and then to Dean.
"What happened to your car," he asked dully.
"Gargoyle," Dean responded with equal lack-luster.
"Huh." With that, Kevin turned back to the tools.
Dean watched him disappear behind the office door before he smiled and snorted at his odd co-worker. Maybe one day he'd spill the whole story… or maybe not.
Mary pressed her back into the shelves behind her. The pantry was really just a walk-in closet. She'd made John put in shelving units for her when they'd bought the place. The phone pressed painfully against her ear as she listened intently, waiting for the tell-tale sign of someone picking up.
There was a click and then a muffled voice.
"It's me," Mary announced, keeping her voice low. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. The guardian's dead. …Yes, I'm sure," Mary gritted her teeth. "You said that about the last one you sent. And the one before that."
Mary switched the phone to her other ear, listening. "Because it almost killed my son! Something was wrong; it was killing people left and right," she whispered fiercly. "I don't know who killed it. …No, I don't think it was him," Mary sighed wearily. Her eyes lifted a bit at the voice over the line. "What do you mean he twisted it?"
Mary heard a voice enter the kitchen and pressed into the corner of the small room, turning to shield the phone from view should the door open. "Why would he do that?" She swiped a finger across the top of a can of green beans, grimacing at the amount of dust. Squeezing her eyes shut, frustrated, she listened carefully to the explanation.
"Are you telling me he somehow made the thing go crazy so these so called hunters or whatever you called them would do the dirty work for him? Why-" Mary froze at her own question; the situation suddenly becoming crystal clear. Her stomach knotted and burned. She felt nauseous as bile worked its way up her throat. The very thing she'd been trying to prevent was happening and it scared her to death. She swallowed hard and drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep the fearful tears as bay.
"He's coming isn't he? Azazel's coming."
Sam unwound the gauze wrapping from his left wrist, inspecting the wounds beneath with a curious eye. His mother's nurse friend, Kara, had said the stitches could come out in a week or so with a promise to check back on him. The skin surrounding the wounds had been red and puffy when she'd first looked at them; all the wear and tear he'd inflicted on them the previous night. Now they just looked like… well, he knew what they looked like. It was why, despite being confined to his room still, by order of his parents, he wore long-sleeved shirts.
Standing in front of his mirror, he let his eyes slowly rake over his reflection. He was a sore sight. He knew of each and every black and blue bruise hidden beneath his shirt; each little scratch along his skin. He didn't have to see those to know they were there, to know they were hidden beneath his brother's clothes too.
He stared for a few moments at his own face. Something was different. The usual dark circles were there along with the drawn face and scraggly hair crowding around his face, the pale features; that was all the same. He lifted a hand and pushed a curtain of dark bangs back, threading his fingers through it so it entwined and stayed back. He stood and studied his reflection, face no longer hidden. Tilting his head slightly, he realized with a small grin what the difference was.
The pinched look was gone… he wasn't alone anymore.
His grin grew, liking his own reflection for the first time ever. "Welcome home," he whispered.
"Sam, dinner's ready," a deep voice called up the stairs.
Sam chuckled, unable to hold it back. He felt lighter than he'd felt in forever. He was happy.
"Saaa-aaaam," Dean's voice whined loudly this time.
Sam laughed. He gave a final nod to his reflection and then turned away, heading downstairs. In the kitchen sat his father and Dean at the table; John reading the newspaper and Dean poking at the paper with his fork. Mary came out of the pantry with a can of green beans in her hand and the phone. She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek in greeting.
He picked up the bowl of salad on the counter and helped his mother place the food on the table while Dean spoke of his latest antics at work and John joked with him. Sam sat at the table watching his family interact, smiling and laughing. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the moment for himself before joining in the conversation.
The family picture was worthy of a hallmark card; the mother and father serving the food and looking lovingly on their children as they joked back and forth with each other, speaking of mundane things simply to be speaking and enjoying the sound of one another.
The overabundance of light and love swelling from the house permeated his pores, sickening him. He watched with disgust and yet anticipation. It was moments like these that gave him the greatest opportunity to deal the greatest damage. These were the moments he lived for.
But he would wait.
He had plans to fulfill and pure lust of devastation would need to wait. So for now he watched in shadow, beneath the tree in their back yard, lip curled back into a twisted grin.
Yes… he would wait. Wait and watch his marked treasure grow and learn. The time was coming. The thought of what he and his chosen one would accomplish brought him great pleasure, eyes lighting, glowing yellow in the shadow of the waning sun.
The time was coming.
THE END
YAY!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!