Maimat the Rat

Title:  Who'll Stop the Rain
Author: Maimat the Rat
Category: Episode tag, 4.17
Pairing: none
Rating: T
Word Count: 766
Date: March 29/2009
Status: Complete
Season/Spoilers: Season 4, 4.17
Summary:  Did anyone wonder why the elevator wasn’t working that morning?
Feedback: Welcome

Sam Wesson felt lost. 

Not lost like needing a map, but just lost.  Nothing really seemed to fit with anything else.  This life, his job.   This damn stupid stuck-in-a-cubical life he was living, and did he really just bash his phone in with an iron poker?  What the hell possessed him to keep it under his damned desk anyhow?  Seriously, did he think the ghost would come and tap him on the shoulder during working hours even after seeing it burn up or whatever that was?  Or maybe he just wanted to be prepared just in case there were more ghosts out there ready to attack him at his useless job?  Lame. 

What was he even doing here?  Last night was unlike anything... it was... and oh dear lord what about the security guard?

Sam took the stairs.  There just didn’t seem to be a lot of options last night.  After the severing incident the elevator started working again and Sam just pulled the rest of the security guard into the elevator and pressed the emergency lock button.  Maintenance wouldn’t get around to fixing it for at least half the day, and then... well it wasn’t like anyone was going to be able to help the guy no matter how soon he was found.

But now what?  It was like Dean said; you can’t just go hunting ghosts with no health insurance.  Who did he think he was?  Bruce Wayne?  He didn’t even have a car.  He could go track down those Ghostfacers and see if they could use some help.  At least they seemed to know what they were talking about. 

Sam sat down in the stairwell and tried to think.  He didn’t even know where to find the Ghostfacers.  Anyway, every time he thought about hunting, he thought about Dean.  It all felt connected, and without Dean... 

A wave exhaustion rushed over him, and Sam’s vision went hazy for a moment.  Sam leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for just a second.  And everything came rushing back.  There was no slow transition.  It felt like a veil over his eyes had been lifted and now he could see.  He saw it all.  He saw Dean Smith.  He saw Dean Winchester.  Sam Wesson and Dean Smith, Smith and Wesson.  Seriously?  What the hell?  Who was playing mind games with them this time?  Sam Winchester didn’t know what to do anymore. 

-0-0-0-0-

Dean ran down the stairs taking two at a time.  The first thing he did was stop at Sam’s floor, but Sam wasn’t there.  The remains of what was once a phone lay crushed on the desk, and several cubical jockeys were more than happy to reiterate the incident.

“The guy went postal.  Well, not postal, but you know, like freaking nuts.  With a tire iron.”

“You mean fire poker?”  Dean asked.

“Yeah, sure whatever.  He quit.  Seriously, he was, like, totally unhinged.”

Okay, that wasn’t all that surprising considering what they just went through the night before, and hadn’t Dean just done about the same, though minus the fire poker.  “Where’d he go after that?”

“Stairs.  Elevator’s broke again and he probably wanted to get out before security came to haul his ass out of here.   The elevators have been crap slow today.  If it weren’t for my asthma I’d have taken the stairs myself this morning, as it was it took ten minutes for the freaking elevator to get there, I swear I think I must be freaking cursed...” 

From the sound of it, Sam ‘quit’ his job before Zachariah talked to Dean.  So did that mean Sam quit on his own, like Dean had?  Did Castiel’s boss give Sam his memories back before he talked to Dean?  Did Sam even have his memories back yet?

He ran down the stairs again, hoping to catch Sam before he got too far.

Or not that far.  Dean just about tripped over Sam before seeing him sitting there.  “Shit.  Hey.”  He stopped running and sat down on the stair beside his brother.  His brother.  How could he not have known?  Sam knew.  Sam was the one who knew something was off all along while Dean just sat back in his cushy office and drank those pissy detox things. 

“So.”  Sam said. 

“So.  You remember?” 

Sam nodded.  “Yeah.  What the hell?”

“It was an Angel.”

Sam bit his lip.  “Why?”

“To show me the true meaning of Christmas?”

Sam snorted.  “Ready to get out of here?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.  If that bastard did anything to my car...”

The end