who. sam winchester what. sam goes to the crossroads in hopes to save buffy's soul from the pit. when. 2 am where. crossroads status. complete
Liquor is his cure.
He tasted every alcoholic brand above eight percent that the bartender could offer. Every drop seemed to lessen the pain, but didn't hinder the problem. Lifeless eyes played in his mind. Her eyes. Buffy Summers would be a rotting corpse in less then two years, and he would be left with the burden of guilt. If he knew how to alternate the past he would of operated a time machine and change it in seconds. But he couldn't buy back time.
He couldn't even fathom how she had sold her soul to the devil to gain the life of a vampire. He already loathed this Angel fellow already. A life without Buffy seemed brutal. Maybe he had grown to attach, more then he had entailed to. He knew he wasn't capable of having a relationship, especially if he never stayed in one place for too long. Dean and Sam were both heartbreakers in the relationship department. He imagined it was part of the Winchester legacy; aside from his father, who seemed to have been in love with the same woman since he was a young adult. Maybe was Buffy was his Mary. They both were hunters, even if he lacked super strength, he did make up for it with his abilities that even he didn't understand quite yet. He imagined Azazel would clear that piece of the puzzle soon. He wasn't looking forward to the person he was becoming. Would his brother still love him if he turned out to be something different...darker? How was he suppose to cope with that conception? He hated being the last to know what he was becoming. Sometimes he even thought his brother knew and just didn't have the heart to tell him. Surely, premonitions and telekensis wasn't a normal attribute for humans. And just as if thing couldn't get any worse now he had to worry about where Buffy's soul would be in the next year.
Except he hadn't realized she wasn't the damsel in distress. She had dodged death on more then one occasion before from what she had told him. Maybe she could pull another houdini on death and call it her last get-out-of-hell free card. He could probably stomach the idea of Buffy dying, but not when he knew that she would be condeming her years in Hell, instead of where she truly belonged. There had to be a way to pivot around this dilemma. Miracles could happen, right? He could manifest some plan to save hers. There was still plenty of time left. A year and a half may have been low margins from what demons usually offered, but it was still enough to devise a way around it.
So, he dranked and dranked. Nothing came to mind. An empty shell. He spent his life making decisions, and he couldn't even figure out a simple solution. He had tried dealing with the crossroad demons, but they refused to let Buffy out of her deal. Still he figured third time was the charm. He dug up a little hole in the dirt, and placed some items in. When the time was right a demon had approached him in the midst of the darkness. "Sam Winchester. Now why am I not surprised to see you here?" He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding, trying to retain himself from putting this demon bitch in her place. He was tired of the games, and the laughs of how pathetic he is for attempting to save a soul that's already lost. He knew this would be futile, but he still had to try. "You know why I'm here," he responded coldly. "To save your girlfriend from spending all eternity in a place where the sun don't shine." She approached him, her lips lingerly dangerous close up to his. All he needed was an approval and their deal could be sealed a kiss. It seemed so simple, but these demons were determined to keep their deals final. "You know obstinance isn't exactly an attractive quality in a man."
Every fucking time they played games.
"Her soul means nothing to you. I know every demon down in Hell would be itching to get their hands on mine. Just make the deal. My soul for hers."
"I can't do that, Sammie. Even if I wanted to. I just make the deals. Those who make the contracts are a whole other story. And they really want the slayer's head on a stick." He noticed her malicious grin, and loathed her for it. "Face it, pretty boy. We finally have someone who's soul is more important then yours. But don't worry..that doesn't mean you aren't my favorite anymore." He was through with the cat and mouse routine. Hands reached in his pocket, dishing out a gun that looked similar to the Colt. It didn't seem to phase the demon broad before him. "That's not the Colt," she commented calmly. "How can you be so sure?," he spoke darkly. She gave him a wicked smirk, limbs crossed over her chest. "You'd think I don't recognize the Colt when I see one?" He wouldn't give any of the facts away. Bluffing was the only source he had right now.
"You have three seconds to give me what I want." Still she hadn't moved an inch, but he was starting to notice the hesitance in her eyes. "Three," he started. She unfolded her arms, eyebrows furrowing, eyes intently watching his fingers that rested on the trigger, daring to pull back at any second. "Two...One." Before he could shoot, black smoke poured out of the woman's mouth and eventually the remainder of the body collapsed to the floor. Damn. At least he made some progress. Maybe word would get around that Sam has the Colt, and he could pawn off the fake as the real thing.
He heard a light moaning a the woman who had been possessed started to rise from her unconscious state. "Where..Where am I?" He kneeled by the woman's side, helping her off her feet. "Are you okay?" The girl nodded, but still was unsure of the question. "Here...I'll take you home." He obviously wasn't getting anywhere tonight.