Characters: Sam, Dean (gen)
Warnings: evil Sam, minor OC death
Word count: 815
A/N: Written for the Evil!Sam Roulette challenge at evilsam_spn, for the song prompt Despicable Me, by Pharrell. I had a tough time coming up with something that wasn't completely cracky for this song; I'm still not sure how well I succeeded on that score.
Also available on AO3.
Summary: Mid-season 5 AU. Sam's had enough.
Being an excerpt from the third chapter of the Chronicles of Sam Winchester, Master of All Things Above and Below.
At precisely 2:13am on February 23, 2010, Marwin Hawk accidentally precipitated the end of the human race's sovereignty on Earth.
By trying to mug the Winchesters.
"Gimme your wallets," Hawk ordered tersely. He dug the muzzle of his gun harder against Dean's neck for emphasis and Sam gritted his teeth. "Or I shoot him."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Could we skip the melodrama?" he asked, irritation plain in his voice. Knowing him, he was less upset about getting mugged than he was about the fact that an ordinary human had got the drop on him. "You are so not the scariest son of a bitch we've had to deal with t-ngh!"
"I'm not asking again," Hawk said, ignoring the way Dean glared as he wiped blood from his lips. He locked eyes with Sam over Dean's shoulder. "Wallets. Now."
And Sam, quite abruptly, had had enough.
"You know what?" he said. "No."
Hawk's eyebrows furrowed. "This isn't a joke, pal."
"Do I look like I'm laughing?" Sam demanded. The anger and frustration that seemed to simmer constantly under his skin rose up hard and fast, ready to show this idiot what happened to people who messed with his brother. "You and your bullshit picked the wrong pair of guys to target tonight. Because my whole fucking life has been one big joke and I? Am God damn sick of it."
"Well, that's too bad," Hawk shot back. "Cause now you've got about ten seconds to apologize to your friend for getting him killed."
His grip tightened on the gun.
"No," Sam said, and it was so much more than just a word. Power coiled inside him, viscous and dark and so easy that Sam couldn't help but shake his head that it had taken him so long to come to this. All that time, wasted.
Hawk froze in the act of pulling the trigger, as surely as if Sam had turned him to stone.
"Sam," Dean said warningly. "What are you doing?"
"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, and smirked at the shock on Dean's face when his voice abruptly vanished.
Hawk's eyes were wide, sweat running down his face as he tried to compel his frozen limbs to obey him.
"I've been having a really shitty year so far," Sam told him, almost conversationally. "We let the devil out of Hell, you see, and now we've got all of Heaven and Hell on our asses, trying to make us help them cause the apocalypse."
Hawk was starting to look properly frightened - and like he thought Sam was crazy - but Sam hardly noticed.
"That's only the tip of the iceberg. You know what we were doing before you showed up? Hunting vampires. Total pain in the ass to get rid of. And Dean nearly got himself killed again - don't make that face, jackass, yes, you damn well did. Do you know what it's like, going through life fully expecting to watch your brother die before the end of every day? Bullshit, is what it is.
And then, to make things even worse, you come along and decide to mug us, which doesn't even make any sense. I mean, look at us!" Sam flung his arms wide. "Do we look like easy marks? The hell were you thinking?"
Hawk let out a small whimper of distress.
"I've had enough," Sam said, with what he thought was admirable calm. "Enough of supernatural creatures trying to control our lives, enough of hunting things and enough of saving selfish people like you from a fate you all deserve."
'Sam,' Dean mouthed, dismay written all over his face.
Not that Sam cared. "No, Dean. Fuck him and fuck the whole human race. The angels and demons want a change in the world order? Well, I'll give it to them." Sam smiled and it made Hawk pale. "And you can be damn sure that they're not going to like it."
A negligent twist of Sam's hand snapped Hawk's neck; he collapsed in a twitching pile, gun clattering uselessly to the ground.
"You okay?" Sam asked Dean, giving him back his voice with a wave.
Dean stared at him, looking somewhere between dazed and terrified.
"Dean?" Sam pressed.
"Who the hell pissed in your cheerios?" Dean blurted. "Jesus Christ, Sam."
Sam chuckled. "Come on, Dean," he said, threading a touch of compulsion through the words. Because Dean was almost certainly going to want to fight about this and Sam just didn't have the energy to deal with that right now. "Let's get back to the motel. We'll both get a good night's sleep and then, in the morning, we're taking this war into our own hands."
"Okay, Sammy," Dean said, and let Sam lead him back to the Impala.