The Rebirth of Darkness {SPN Fic}

(credit: giphy)

After everything that happened with Ruby, and the dark path that she influenced him to go on, Sam was glad he was able to achieve some sort of redemption. Years had passed and he was finally beginning to feel semi-normal again. He knew, and came to accept, society’s version of normal would never be something that would pertain to him, but he finally reached a point where he was nearing his normal.

The path to redemption was not easy for the hunter, especially when it came to his brother, Dean. After everything with Ruby and the demon blood, his relationship with his brother was strained. It took a lot of time and trust building to get to a good place. There were times when Dean would piss Sam off like never before and make him inch on the border of hating his brother, but in the end they always came through for each other. He was thankful that despite the corrupt path he had taken, the person who mattered most was by his side again and they were doing what they did best.

Dean pulled the impala up to a large mansion in a suburb of Detroit. They caught wind of a case as they were driving through. It seemed like people were being possessed and not remembering the crimes they were committing. Those that were affected reported black smoke and that being the last thing they recall before ‘waking up’ to whatever it was they had done. The brothers decided to check out the mansion, which is where the last reported case was. Once they parked and geared up, they entered the house to see if they could find anything that wasn’t in the police reports.

“Alright, Sammy. Let’s split up. We got ‘lota ground to cover.”

Sam nodded before making his way up the half spiral staircase, while Dean headed into the main living room. Things were quiet, almost too quiet, as the younger Winchester walked down the hall and into a massive bedroom. Sam came to a brief pause when we caught a whiff of a scent he knew all too well.

“Sulfer…” Sam muttered quietly to himself.

Suddenly he felt himself being thrown up against the wall, a strong arm pinning against his chest and black eyes staring him down.

“We were wondering when you wonder twins were gonna poke your heads in here.” the demon declared with a smug grin.

Due to the impact, Sam dropped his gun and was winded for a moment, but he forced a smug grin of his own. “Well, here we are.” He suddenly waved his flask of holy water, causing it to sizzle and smoke against the demon’s skin.

There were three more of them that came from the next room, rushing at Sam. He was able to put the holy water to use and got some good hits in, but they over powered him and Dean was the one with Ruby’s knife. Things would have gone such a different way if Sam still had his abilities like he did when he was consuming demon blood.

They beat Sam down to the ground and didn’t hold back. This was not the way he wanted things to end for him, but at this point, it was looking like it. In the midst of all this, he was hoping that his brother was okay and wasn’t going to experience the same fate.

Suddenly the demons stopped and Sam could hear one of them shout out, “What the hell are you doing here?!”

He didn’t bother to focus on what they were referring to just yet. Sam took the opportunity to scramble over toward his gun that remained on the floor. When his gun was in hand, he sat and leaned up against the wall. With his weapon pointed, and his other hand protecting his potentially broken ribs, he felt his heart sink into his gut.

All the demons were down, all except one…

You.” The sudden look of shock was quickly replaced with disgust.

(Maybe I’ll make this into a thing, I don’t know yet. This was a starter for a roleplay I was doing a few months back.)

(Leave a comment if you want more!)


The Self-Conscious Writer

It doesn’t matter if I’m reading a book, reading fan fiction, blog posts, or observing writing partners develop their storylines through online role-play, I always seem to find myself inspired and jealous at the same time. It’s so immature of me to feel jealous of others and their talents, but when I read the amazing work some people do I only end up becoming harder on myself. I begin to think, ‘You’ve been writing for years and you’re nowhere near as talented as they are. Quit slacking and work.’ I know I shouldn’t compare myself to others, we’re all in different stages of our writing, but I can’t help feeling frustrated with not being where I feel I should be by now.

What I can say is I’m glad I’ve improved in comparison to the writing I did five years ago. I was sifting through old documents on my laptop when I came across a file I couldn’t quite recall having. When I clicked it open and saw the first opening lines, I gasped and laughed of self embarrassment.

“I slowly opened my eyes. My vision might’ve been blurry, but when I looked around at my surroundings I knew exactly where I was. The IV drip, blaring sirens, monitors beeping, annoying the shit out of me. Yeah, I definitely recognized where I was. ”


Fucking. Cringe.

Of course I read all twenty pages and cringed through the entire thing, but I was also proud of that little horror show. It brought me back to when I first started putting the story together. To me, the ideas were solid, they just weren’t properly executed at the time. With the practice that I have had since then, I could take the story into a more exciting direction and polish it up real nice.

I may not be where I want to be right now, but after seeing how much I’ve improved from that old story, I just need to keep in mind that not only do things take time, but it takes a lot of practice and a lot of reading.

Also, I honestly couldn’t have improved from where I was if it wasn’t for my writing partners. They are some of the best writers I know and with some of that jealousy comes that inspiration I mentioned earlier. My partners help push me to be better. Not only by encouraging me to continue writing over the years, but their continued support of me in making my ideas become a reality. Sometimes I feel they have more faith in me and my writing than I do. I appreciate it more than they could ever know.