The Journal of Sam Winchester

(not Sammy)


i'm emo into the distance, i'm emo and not amused
Sam Winchester psychic_wonder
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The Beach, Early Monday Morning
Sam was grateful for the unseasonably warm weather as he headed to the beach to meet up with Isabel. He hadn't expected to hear from anyone so early in the morning, but when Isabel called and said she needed to talk to him, he'd gotten right up to meet her. She'd hung up too quickly for Sam to get any real information out of her, so his mind was in overdrive trying to decipher the short conversation they'd had. Maybe Isabel was rushed because she and Peter had to get away from Sylar quickly, or maybe they'd had to split up so Peter could get Nathan and Angela to safety, and she'd been rushing to meet them as well. Every new scenario was different, but they all had the same purpose - to try to quiet the voice in the back of Sam's mind that wanted to know why it was Isabel who had called him, and not Peter.

[For the alien girl! The topic of their conversation is NFB, please.]

Isabel stood at the edge of the water, staring out at the horizon but not really seeing it. She hadn't slept, she had no idea what to tell Sam, and she really, really, really wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Sam had been hoping to find Peter waiting with Isabel, and as happy as he was to find her in one piece, the knot in his stomach got a little tighter when he saw that she was alone. "Isabel?" he said, coming up beside her.

Despite the warm air, Isabel suddenly felt cold and wrapped her arms around herself. Sam had to know. He had to realize that if Peter wasn't there with her, something had to have happened. Thinking about it, she realized he was probably hoping Peter was hiding someplace safe. She hated that she had to be the one to take away that hope.

"I'm sorry Sam. So so sorry."

That kind of statement really wasn't helping the knot unwind. "Sorry for what?" he asked. "Is Peter with you? I talked to him yesterday and he--he was really worried about last night."

This was going to be hard.

"No, he's not," Isabel said quietly. "He's...he was right. About Sylar. About the explosion. About everything."

"They didn't stop the explosion?" Sam asked. "But I thought they'd--I thought Nathan and Peter would be able to stop it. Was it Sylar?" It had to be, didn't it? Maybe Nathan had gotten hurt, and Peter was helping him, and Isabel was upset about it and that's why she was looking at him like that.

"They saved New York from the explosion. Saved me even, because I was standing right there." Sam might notice that she didn't say they'd stopped the explosion. And wow, wasn't that distant point on the horizon so interesting to watch.

"It was Sylar," Isabel said, her voice flat and emotionless, because not thinking about how much it hurt was the only way she was going to get through this. "He found Ted. He got his nuclear power."

Sam was very aware of the fact that she didn't say the explosion was stopped, because that was what he wanted to hear, and he wasn't hearing it.

"Peter didn't get near Sylar, did he?" he asked. Peter was smart and he would have known better - unless there wasn't any choice.

Isabel nodded slowly. "He did. We'd gone to the Plaza so that Peter could stop him. They fought and it was enough for him to pick the power up."

That was the stuff of Sam's nightmares, and being told that it was real, that it had really happened nearly made him shiver.

"What did he do?" Sam stared at Isabel like his fears would change what she had to say. "Peter and Nathan, what did they--how did they save--" he started, before cutting himself off. There was no point in avoiding the real question any longer. "Isabel, where's Peter?"

"Sylar taunted him," she said, ignoring Sam's question. "I'm not sure what Peter did, he slammed him with TK or something else, I don't know. But one minute Sylar was there and then he was gone. But it was too late. Peter had the power and he was already losing control."

Isabel closed her eyes, reliving the scene in her head. "Do you know why he asked me to come help? What he wanted me to do?"

"He said you could use your TK from far away. So Sylar wouldn't know you were there, and you wouldn't be in danger," Sam said weakly.

"I wish," she replied, as the tenuous control she'd been able to maintain slipped just a bit. "It had nothing to do with Sylar. I was Plan B. If he lost control, I was supposed to stop him. Permanently."

"And you agreed to that? You--what did you do?!" Sam asked. She was their friend. Surely she couldn't have followed through on what was clearly a plan formulated by Peter. Only he would think that killing him was a viable option in a situation.

"I couldn't do it. Even though he asked. Even though he'd lost control," Isabel whispered. "I had the gun in my hand but I couldn't do it."

She swallowed heard, trying to force the rest of the story out. "And then suddenly Nathan was there. He said there was another way. There was. He grabbed Peter and they flew off, high into the sky. A few seconds later, there was an explosion."

"I waited for a long time. But neither one of them came back."

In all the times that Sam had thought about the explosion, not once had he ever seen that outcome. There'd been no nightmares, no visions, nothing to prepare him for the idea that Peter would do that, that he and Nathan would take to the sky, that there would be nothing left. He was supposed to see these things, to know that they were going to happen so he could stop them, and to realize that not only had he been unprepared for the final result, but that all of this had gone down while he was in Fandom, safe and sound and useless, left him cold and stunned.

"They didn't come back at all?" he asked quietly. He knew it was a stupid question as soon as it came out. Isabel was here, after all.

Isabel shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Sam opened his mouth, and then closed it again, unsure of what to say. This all felt unreal, like a terrible dream that he couldn't wake up from. "I told him everything would be okay," he said. "On the phone. Just yesterday. He was worried and I told him it would be okay."

It was the stuff of nightmares.

"I know. I kept telling him that we'd find away to stop it. That there had to be a way." But there wasn't. Even though she'd been there, seen it happen, Isabel still had a hard time accepting that.

"I thought--" Sam started, before stopping himself again. He'd had a lot of thoughts about how he and Peter would end up, but clearly, he hadn't been right about any of them. "Maybe he's okay. He's Peter, he could be okay."

Isabel wanted to believe that more then anything. But she knew Peter, knew that he wouldn't leave them thinking the worst like this.

"He would have let us know if he was. Somehow, some way, he would have let us know by now. He wouldn't want us thinking he was...." She paused, unable to say the word.

"He wouldn't want us thinking that because he's not," Sam said, looking down as his voice cracked. He clenched his hands into fists to try to keep himself in control. He couldn't lose it in front of Isabel. If he started freaking out now, he might never be able to stop.

For Sam's sake, she'd keep it together. Just barely.

"I'm sorry Sam," Isabel said, hating that she had to be the one to do this. "I saw it. I felt the heat. I saw him glow. There's no way."

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out the letter Peter had given her. "He wanted me to give this to you."


Sam opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, reading it quietly. He didn't think the ache in his chest could get worse, but seeing some of Peter's last thoughts and realizing that he'd planned for this possibility was like a stab to the gut. He read the letter a second time, and nearly tore the envelope as he folded the letter back up and tucked it away.

"I, um. I think I need to go," he said. He couldn't keep himself together for much longer, not at this rate. "Thank you. I just--thank you. For trying to help him."

For a moment Isabel tried to imagine what she'd feel like if she was in Sam's position and someone had come to tell her Wyatt was gone. She could barely finish the thought because it hurt so badly.

"How could I not? He's my friend." And she wasn't ready to use past tense yet.

"I'm sorry," she said once more. "I wish it could have been different."

"Me too," Sam said, gripping the letter tightly in his hand. It was probably rude to just leave Isabel, but that's what Sam did, turning and taking off before he lost it. He didn't know where he was going, but somewhere away from here was good enough for now.

Isabel pulled out her phone, grateful she had Dean's number programmed in there, because right at that moment she doubted she'd be able to remember her own number. She left a brief message, sighed heavily, then headed for the causeway.

She just wanted to go home.

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