supernatural one-shots [requests closed] UNDER EDITING

sam winchester || house of wax PART ONE

|| not edited

You shiver as you observe the unsettlingly pacific town called Ambrose that lies ahead of you. "I think this might be the creepiest case I've ever worked," you breath, chills running up your spine.

Sam nods and slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to him. He glances out at the haunting, one-street town. "Yeah. But we have to."

You nod, but you frown. The sour feeling in the pit of your stomach isn't exactly reassuring. "Let's just finish this up so we can get the hell out of here." You and Sam begin to walk down the street, peeking in the windows of the shops adorning the sidewalks. No one seems to be here. You shiver again at the sheer creepiness that is this town and you lean closer into Sam. "Why can't Dean have taken this case?"

Sam shrugs. "I don't know. I thought it might be cool to have some alone time, just you and me."

You pout. "I'm down for alone time, babe. At the bunker. Maybe a vacation to the Bahamas. But not in a tiny rural town where everyone enters but no one leaves. How'd you even find this place?"

"Cas reported it," Sam said, squinting at something in the distance. "There're a bunch of cars by the church. Let's go check it out."

You walk in step with Sam to the end of the street where the church sits. As you near, you begin to hear the notes of an organ and a chorus voices speaking in hushed tones. You and Sam climb up the steps of the church and exchange a look of nervousness.

"Are you sure about this?" you ask, chewing on the inside of your lip.

Sam nods with a playful smile before he pushes the heavy church doors open and leads you inside.

Your face flushes crimson when you see a priest standing at the altar, Bible in hand, the pews filled with people dressed in all-black, an open casket, and a man with tears rolling down his face as he kisses the deceased goodbye. He straightens up and glances at the door tearily at the sound of your and Sam's entrance.

"I am so sorry," you and Sam insist at the same time before rushing out of the church, closing the doors behind you.

"I'm an asshole," Sam says guiltily, eyes wide and nose wrinkled at himself.

You only sigh, feeling amazingly guilty. You just ruined that poor person's funeral. "I told you we shouldn't go in."

You set off to leave, but you hear the church doors creak open. You glance up at the entrance and see the man from before wiping tears from his face as he walks down the steps.

"What the hell do you want?" he demands angrily.

"Um..." you stutter nervously. The guilt that's burning a hole in your stomach isn't really helping. "I'm so sorry," you apologizing, hoping that helps. It doesn't, and you stand frozen in your spot, wide-eyed and terrified.

Looking at you, no one would ever guess you're a hunter. You hope that today's just an off day.

Sam intervenes and saves you, but he makes himself look like an even bigger jerk in the process. "Look, we're just trying to find Bo, okay? He works at the gas station?"

The man frowns angrily, his face turning fifty shades of red. "You're talking to him. So if you'd let him finish paying his respects to his mother, then that'd be great." He spins on his heel and storms back into the church.

You stand there, awestruck, and watch as the realization dawns on Sam's face.

"You're an asshole," you say, amazed that such a wonderful guy managed to fuck up that monumentally. You chuckle lightly, feeling a lot better now that the man is gone.

You know that you'll feel even better once you're away from that church, and you turn to leave. Sam follows, saying again, "I'm an asshole."

You laugh and agree. "Mhm."

Sam grins. "But I'm your favorite asshole, right?"

Playful Sam is back, and he makes you smile. "Yeah. But Dean's a close second."

Sam throws his head back in a hearty laugh, again exhibiting his unfailing ability to forget and move on. "Of course he is. Let's go check out the House of Wax, since we can't talk to the lead. Might as well do something productive."

The man begins to tread the dusty path up to the House of Wax, the main tourist attraction of Ambrose. The whole reason the town caught your eye in the first place.

"I can think of about a dozen things that you and I could do that are considered productive," you call frustratedly, jogging up the path to catch up with him. When you reach him, you add, "Oh, and just clarifying, Dean's my favorite asshole now."

Sam smiles and runs ahead to the house, leaving you alone.

"No, wait!" you cry. "Sam, don't leave me alone, this town is scary!"

By the time you catch up to your boyfriend, he's already entered the House of Wax, disregarding the "CLOSED" sign that dangles from the doorknob. You frown as you investigate the door.

"Is that.... wax?" you wonder aloud. You bring up your hand and scratch your fingernail against the door. The finish peels off. The whole freaking house is made of wax. "Creepy," you mutter to yourself, and you push through the door.

You glance around the huge foyer and goosebumps prickle your skin. Wax furniture, wax floors, wax walls, wax fixtures. Wax people. You bristle uncomfortably. You do not like this case, not one bit.

You feel two firm hands squeeze your shoulders and you shriek, whirling around with your fist swinging.

Sam laughs and ducks away from your punch. "Baby, calm down, it's me!"

You pant and your heart races; you're visibly shaking from the fear. Sam's expression softens when he sees your terror. "Baby, what's wrong?" He wraps his arms around you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that when you were so creeped out."

"I don't like this case," you whisper.

Sam presses a kiss to the top of your head. "I'll make it better, okay?" Suddenly, his face lights up with realization. He untangles his arms from around you and rushes past.

You turn your head and see Sam standing next to a wax bar. He slips his lighter out of his pocket and lights the flame. He lets it hover underneath a small wax statue of a ballerina. He smiles and looks across the room to you. "Oh no!" he cries in a falsetto southern accent. "There's a fire! Help me, (Y/N)!" You smile and shake your head at his antics, crossing the room to him. 

"My legs are burning!" he continues, smiling at himself. "My skirt's catching on fire!" You raise a hand and guide Sam's hand away from the figure. He smiles down at you and offers you one more thought from the ballerina's point of view. "You're my hero."

You smile at him and put your hand on the side of his face, pulling him downwards to kiss him. When you pull away, you glance over his shoulder.

You see a face with two black holes for eyes staring back at you through the window.