Per Autre Vie
By Tidia, June 2006
Author's Notes: This is based on the idea that the ending of Devil's
Trap was a vision. I must thank Ridley and Mog for encouraging me to
post this. This fic came from studying Real Property, and so the
definitions reflect that.
Per Autre Vie: A life
estate measured in the life of another
Sam’s first instinct was to let go of the wheel and place his hands on
his head, which was screeching a soliloquy. His second instinct, which
won out, was to slam on the brakes. He heard his father yell, and
John’s hand slap the dashboard. “Sammy!”
Sam was squeezing his eyes shut, watching as the semi came, and struck
the Impala pushing it down the embankment. Next he saw the black eyes
of the driver and the wounded form of his father and brother.
He gasped when he opened his eyes. His father had placed a hand on his
arm, which he shrugged off when he turned the car one hundred and
eighty degrees and sped up.
“Sam, the hospital is in the other direction.” John said calmly.
“No, Dad, that is so the
wrong direction. That vision was a warning –the demon is out to get
us.” Sam explained hurriedly, trying to put as much distance between
themselves and his vision.
“So we’re heading to the town that is over 30 miles away?” Sam knew his
father wanted more information, but the younger Winchester didn’t want
to relive his vision.
“We’ll be there in an hour.” Sam glanced at the rearview mirror,
noticing his brother remained in a bleary eyed stupor. “Just stay
awake, Dean, okay?”
“Yeah, I promise, not until you go to sleep.” Dean mumbled,
acknowledging the order. But, a half an hour later, Dean’s eyes closed
“Dad!” Sam had been driving and watching Dean in the rearview mirror in
the hopes that by keeping some kind of eye contact, his brother would
stay alert. “Check on Dean.” He ordered his father.
John did not like the tone that Sam had taken with him, but his eldest
son did need attention. He twisted in his seat, being careful to limit
the jostling of his wounded leg. “Hey, Dean, come on.” John tapped his
son’s face. There was no response.
Concern mingled with anger toward his son. Dean had placed himself in
this situation-taunting the demon, then begging for his life and
finally convincing Sam not to kill the demon. The feelings seemed
overwhelming and John lashed out at his son, placing a hand on his
chest where the demon had sliced into him.
That elicited a moan and a wet cough. Dean’s eyes opened glaring at his
“Stay with us.” John said as he again adjusted himself in the passenger
seat, not giving a second glance to his son. John turned his hand, palm
up and saw the blood drying.
a cause of action that can be brought in court to address a change in
condition of real property brought about by a current tenant that
damages or destroys the value of that property.
The emergency room whisked John and Dean away. Sam filled out the
insurance forms. A nurse practionner saw his face, and since it was a
slow night took the time to tape up his nose and exam his cheek for
bone fractures. She gave him an ice pack, and told him to rest in the
exam room for news about his father and brother.
Sam thought back to the cabin. They had all been so exposed. He pushed
the memories away, for now at least. The comment Dean had made in the
Impala tickled in his subconscious.
“Yeah, I promise, not until you go to sleep”
It sounded familiar to Sam, and then he remembered when they were
Sam would listen as twelve-year-old Dean got comfortable, and readied
himself to fall asleep.
“Night, Sammy.” He would mumble into the pillow.
“Dean?” Eight year old Sam said, wide awake and unable to fall asleep.
The concept of relaxing was foreign to him.
“Yeah?” Dean said, humoring his brother. This had become a night time
Sam sighed. “Promise me you won’t fall asleep until I go to sleep.”
Dean turned so that he was facing Sam. “Okay, Sam, I promise.” And Dean
kept his eyes open, because Sam would check. “Close your eyes, Sam.”
Sam would follow his older brother’s order, and let his eyelids fall
shut. The pattern began when Sam was six, and by the time Sam was
twelve the bed time ritual seemed to have run its course. Sam had grown
past needing the reassurance of his big brother. As he got older, he
had forgotten that particular memory.
He wished he hadn’t forgotten memories like that, and wondered if he
would have remembered it under normal circumstances. Eventually, his
mind became lost in thought and he fell asleep. He didn’t know how long
the medical staff had left him in the room, resting, but the curtains
were drawn and a nurse was lightly shaking his arm.
“Yeah,” Sam was startled. “Is it my brother? My father?”
“Your father is in a room now, and your brother is in recovery.” She
said, patiently, waiting for him to wake up fully. “You can go sit with
your father, and we will let you know about your brother.”
“So they are doing fine.” Sam asked the nurse, knowing that she wasn’t
allowed to reveal too much information.
“Seems so,” She smiled. “But the doctor will talk you later. Your
father is in room 303.” Sam brought his feet to the ground and followed
the wrongful putting out of a rightful owner or tenant of real
property, forcing the party pushed out of the premises to bring a
lawsuit to regain possession.
John was awake when Sam entered the room. His drug induced sleep had
been easier to overcome than the demon. He was left with the feeling of
something slipping through his fingers. He never understood the meaning
of those words until now.
“Hey Dad,” Sam pulled up a chair near his father’s bed. “Doctor said
you’re going to be fine.”
John glanced at his leg, propped up on pillows. A drain had been placed
in the wound and the bandages around it were slightly tinged. “Did they
report the gun shot?”
“Not a problem.” His younger son kneaded the back of his neck. “You
were defending your son from some wild animal-just too bad you’re a
lousy shot.” Sam smirked at the last statement.
“I shot myself.” John narrowed his eyes, at his son’s poor lie,
Sam shrugged his shoulders. Too much had happened for them to be light
hearted at the moment. “You need to work on your aim.”
“You do to.” John replied, meaning that he hadn’t forgotten that Sam
had shot him in the leg instead of the heart.
Sam ignored the implied meaning. “Well, Dean’s better at coming up with
At the mention of his other son, John was reminded of his parental
role. He knew his son would be fine, because he couldn’t accept
anything less. “How’s Dean?”
“Just waiting for him to come out of recovery.” Sam hesitated, and then
continued. “The doctor said he’ll need some rest for a few days.”
John nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. They sat in silence, and
John pretended to fall asleep. Finally, a nurse came to get Sam and
take him to his brother.
Alone, John blamed Dean. He blamed Sam. He didn’t blame himself,
because he was willing to make a sacrifice. And, that was the problem,
but it was human nature.
The blame lay solely with him. What father would ask is son to kill
him? A weak one. He wasn’t a father. He had treated his sons like his
peers, his comrades, and not his sons. He wasn’t mad at Sam. He wasn’t
mad at Dean. He was mad at himself. He had hurt Dean, and Sam. But,
then it was easy to hurt loved ones since they always returned.
Covenants Running with Land:
is an interest in land formed by an agreement between adjoining
landowners to do or not do something with relation to the land that
they respectively occupy
Dean hated the drugs. They took the pain away, but left his mind to
wander and then to a feeling of depression. He wouldn’t say the word
out loud, but he recognized the feeling for what it was.
Sam had wanted to marry Jessica. Would Sam have called and asked him to
be his best man? Dean thoughts were focused internally about his
feelings. He understood. He was the selfish one. He had thrown that
term at his brother and father, but didn’t realize that it applied
solely to him.
He had to be stronger…better…that was the only solution. Wanting his
family to be together was wrong. He needed to let that idea go. He
needed to be selfless. Sam and John were on one path and Dean had to
make sure that the road was free from debris, and pitfalls.
“You promised me you would stay awake.” Sam walked in, making his way
towards Dean’s bed.
Dean blinked a few times. Everything was still foggy and disconnected.
“Well, I was down a few pints. . .”
“No,” Sam smiled. He pushed over the reclining chair in the room so
that it was beside Dean’s bed. “But, I guess this time you can go to
sleep before I do.”
Dean had no idea what his brother was babbling about. Yes, he was
tired, and probably would fall asleep shortly, but he didn’t need a
babysitter. Then Dean remembered. He acknowledged the childhood memory
with a nod because there wasn’t much to say. He couldn’t entertain the
past any longer. He had to change.
He saw clearly what needed to be done. His need for revenge would have
to surpass their need for revenge because his feelings for his family
were not needed. He had to commit to this course, for his family.
This storie is continued in Attempt
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