Chereads / Reborn as Sam Winchester in Supernatural TV / Chapter 3 - The Boy Who Knows Too Much

Chapter 3 - The Boy Who Knows Too Much

Lawrence, Kansas -- 1988

Sometimes, in the quiet moments before dawn, I remember who I used to be. A normal person, watching Supernatural from the safety of my couch, treating this world and its horrors as fiction...

How naive I was.

Now, at five years old, I lie awake in another nameless motel room, listening to Dean's soft breathing from the bed next to mine. Dad's out hunting – a ghost, I think. The neon sign outside flickers, casting intermittent red shadows across the water-stained ceiling.

Red like Azazel's blood in my veins. Red like the flames that consumed Mom.

I press my small hands against my chest, feeling my heart beat. This body – my body – isn't just Sam Winchester's anymore.

It's mine. And it's so much more than just flesh and blood. It's a vessel. The vessel. Crafted through generations of careful bloodline manipulation to house the brightest of God's angels.

The thought makes me nauseous.

Dean stirs in his sleep, mumbling something about pie. My big brother – now actually my big brother – who has no idea what's coming. Who doesn't know that heaven and hell are playing chess with our lives, that we're just pieces on their cosmic board.

A dog barks outside, and for a moment, I freeze. Every sound at night could be them – demons coming to "prepare" me, angels watching their future Michael Sword. The weight of destiny feels impossibly heavy on my shoulders.

I slide out of bed, my feet silent on the threadbare carpet, and make my way to the bathroom. Standing on tiptoes, I can barely see my reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Sam Winchester's hazel eyes stare back at me, but behind them, I see something else. Something that makes my blood run cold.

A faint echo of grace, dormant but present, waiting for its true owner. Waiting for Lucifer.

'No,' I whisper in my mind, gripping the edge of the sink. 'I won't let you in. Ever.'

But even as I say it, I know the truth. This body was made for him. Every cell, every atom was crafted to contain an archangel's grace. I can feel it sometimes, like an empty space inside me, waiting to be filled.

The canon Sam was said to have felt it too, but I feel it stronger than ever described. Possibly because I actually know who I was made for...

The mirror cracks.

I stumble backward, heart pounding. I didn't do that. I couldn't have... Right? But the crack is there, spider-webbing across the glass in the shape of wings.

"Sammy?" Dean's sleepy voice calls from the other room. "You okay?"

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady my voice. "Yeah, Dean. Just needed to pee."

"Well, hurry up. It's cold without you here."

A smile tugs at my lips despite everything. Dean's always been my protector, even now. If only he knew what he was really protecting me from.

Back in bed, curled against Dean's warmth, I try to plan. I have knowledge – decades worth of show plotlines swimming in my head. But knowledge isn't enough. Not when you're up against heaven and hell, both determined to start an apocalypse.

In the darkness, I count the years we have left. Seventeen until i have to play the part and be at Stanford with whoever they attempt to make me fall in love with and Dad disappears hunting Yellow-Eyes. Twenty-one until it all starts falling apart.

My small hands clench into fists under the thin motel blanket. Knowledge is power, but it's also a burden. Every time I look at Dean, I see the future Righteous Man who breaks in hell. When Dad comes back from hunts, I see the man who'll sell his soul.

I need a plan. Multiple plans.

Plan A: Stop the apocalypse before it starts. 

- Find the Colt early

- Kill Azazel before he can set everything in motion

- Prevent the breaking of the first seal

But even as I think it, I know it's not that simple. The angels want their apocalypse. If we stop it one way, they'll find another. They've been planning this for millennia.

Plan B then: Build power.

- Learn everything about hunting from Dad

- Study Latin, Enochian, every form of protection

- Find ways to strengthen my mind against possession

- Master the demon blood powers (God, I hate that I have to do this)

- Locate the bunker early

Dean shifts beside me, and I feel a stab of guilt. In my old life, these were just plot points in a TV show. Now they're my reality. Dean's reality.

"...no, don't want vegetables," Dean mumbles in his sleep, making me smile despite everything.

Plan C forms in my mind: Build allies.

- Bobby (we'll meet him soon, I remember)

- Pastor Jim

- Missouri Moseley (she already knows something's different about me)

- Find other psychic children before Azazel can corrupt them

- Maybe even... Crowley? (The thought makes me shudder, he's enjoyable on screen, but a very crafty and cunning demon, that I'll hate to deal with in reality)

A car passes outside, its headlights sweeping across the room. For a moment, they catch the salt lines by the door and windows, making them glitter. Such a simple defense against such terrible things.

Plan D is the hardest: Change the story without breaking it.

- Save people without drawing attention

- Build strength without alerting heaven or hell

- Find a way to protect whatever girl they set me up with

- Prevent Dean's deal somehow

- Figure out how to kill Lilith without breaking the final seal

My head spins with possibilities and consequences. One wrong move could make everything worse. But doing nothing isn't an option.

The scariest part? I can feel it growing stronger. The psychic abilities, the demon blood in my veins. Sometimes when I'm angry or scared, things move. The mirror wasn't the first time.

And beneath it all, that hollow space inside me, that perfect vessel-shaped void that calls to Lucifer's grace. It terrifies me how right it feels, like a glove waiting for its hand, a lock waiting for its key.

'No,' I whisper in my mind towards the darkness. 'I won't be your puppet. Any of you.'

But there's another plan, one I barely let myself think about. The nuclear option.

Plan Z: If everything goes wrong, if Lucifer rises, if he after everything possesses me...

Find a way to overcome him, and kill us both, hurling the two of us into the empty...

I'd rather die than be his eternal slave.

Dean snuffles in his sleep and pulls me closer, as if sensing my dark thoughts. I let his warmth chase away the chill I feel thinking about it.

No. It won't come to that. I won't let it.

I have twenty years to prepare. Twenty years to change the story. Twenty years to save my new family who I have come to like my original one.

With my foreknowledge, with this second life, I'll do whatever it takes to protect what is mine. Even if it means playing with powers that terrify me. Even if it means walking the line between light and dark.

Because I'm not just Sam Winchester. I'm not just the Boy King or Lucifer's vessel.

I'm someone who knows the story. And I'm going to rewrite it.

Outside, a crow lands on the windowsill, its eyes reflecting the moonlight. For a moment, they almost look yellow.

I don't sleep for the rest of the night, my mind racing with plans and contingencies, while Dean's steady breathing reminds me of exactly what I'm fighting for.

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(Author's Note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!

Tell me how did you all find this chapter showing Sam's perspective?

Did you all like it?

What do you think of the plans? Do you have any suggestions to add?

Please do tell.

Well I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)