Fic: Sneak Peek
Revelations have been made over at spn_summergen so this is basically a repost. :) I debated with whether working on it some more because I'm not entirely content with it, I would have felt weird doing so "after the fact". So this is it people. *hums Stand by your fic* *g*
Title: Sneak Peek
Author: astri13
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sam, Dean, Mary, John
Word count: 5.465
Summary: Sam wants to find out more about his mother. A surprise babysitting gig for none other than his brother might help him with that.
Sneak Peek
“You boys take good care, will you?” The old woman looked at them fondly from where she lingered in the open doorway.
Sam politely smiled back. “We will, Mrs.Meaden. We will.”
She wringed her hands for a second. “Are you sure there is nothing else I can do for you? You were so kind to me, and I'd love to do something for you as well.“
“Really not necessary, we were glad to help out,” Sam deflected - for what must have been the millionth time. “And thanks again for the pie.”
From the edge of his vision he caught Dean's eye-roll but also noticed how his brother kept clutching the plate holding said pie to his chest lovingly. Just on principle Sam answered the action with one of his patented bitch-faces.
Mrs.Meaden was a nice lady who had attracted some nasty poltergeist business, and Sam felt bad for her, even if she had been a bit on the tedious side. He had also noticed how Dean, despite all the pretence of being deeply put-upon by the old woman's fuzziness, had offered up his arm to help her get up from a chair or walk down the old, rickety stairs in her house.
“Well, if you're sure…” Mrs.Meaden still didn't look completely satisfied with the way things were left but finally closed the door, leaving the brothers to themselves.
“Thank god. I was afraid she was never gonna let us leave,” Dean muttered.
Sam's elbow jabbed him in the ribs. “You know, you liked her.”
“Ow. And watch out for that pie,” Dean grumbled.
“Do you have anything else on your mind but food?”
Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“And chicks?” Sam asked, exasperated.
Dean laughed. “Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it.”
“Har har, very funny,” Sam said dryly. “I'm not a virgin, you know.”
“Really, Sammy? Maybe we can hit that little bar, we saw on our way into town, tonight so you can vouch for that statement.”
Sam folded his arms in front of his chest, frowning. “I thought we agreed that after we were done with this case, we'd do some more research on--”
“I believe you have the order mixed up, dude. First comes the case, then research,” Dean cut him off, and while the words definitely carried a humorous undertone, a distinct look of discomfort appeared on his face..
Sam wasn't taken by the clear attempt at subterfuge. He knew that Dean knew what he had been getting at. “Why are you being so stubborn about that? Aren't you curious even a little bit?”
Dean turned his head to the side, avoiding Sam's questioning gaze. “She was our mom. And she loved us. Why do you need to know more?” He asked quietly.
Fiddling with the hem of his jacket, Sam sighed. He knew how hard it was for his brother to even talk about her. But it wasn't exactly a walk in the park for Sam either. He just wanted to get to know her, for better or for worse. Still, he definitely would have to tread lightly with Dean on the subject.
“Because it's still influencing our lives,” Sam tried to reason. “And I can't just ignore what they told me.”
“You mean demons, what demons told you,” Dean spat.
“Dean, I checked it out. It wasn't all lies. So whatever she did-“
“She didn't do anything,“ Dean yelled angrily. “It was not her fault.”
Uh-oh, so much for treading lightly.
“I didn't say it was,” Sam protested.
Dean's look was accusing. “But you're also not sure, right? About her? About the kind of person she was?” He shook his head in disdain.
Sam opened his mouth to engage in some damage control, explain himself in better terms, but Dean had already turned on his heel and was currently in the process of stalking over to the car, his whole posture radiating anger.
Dejectedly, Sam followed him, wondering how he would ever manage to uncover something about the apparent mystery surrounding their mother when his brother, partner and best friend was going to fight him every step of the way.
* * *
So caught up in their own misery they were, neither brother noticed the sleek black cat slipping back into the house to report its newly acquired knowledge back to its mistress. Just like any self-respecting witch's good familiar is wont to do.
Its mistress stroked his fur gently. “Hm, hm, that will take some effort and it won't last long. Hopefully the boy will find what he is looking for - and the other will get some peace of mind for it.”
The cat meowed and the woman nodded. “Lets get to work then.”
* * *
Sam was awoken by the pressing urge to go to the bathroom. He groaned, not wanting to leave his - surprisingly for a backwater motel - nice and comfy bed but figured the alternative wasn't really acceptable. So he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. If Dean had returned from his trip to the bar already, one he had pointedly gone on alone, purposefully waking him up right now would only result in more crankiness and fighting. And Sam was way too tired for that.
When Sam's toe painfully connected with a solid object, he cursed, figuring it was probably the weapon's bag. Stupid Dean. Time and again, Sam had told him not to let the damn thing lie around on the ground. So much for being considerate.
Still caught in a half-sleeping state, Sam hopped on. His hand felt around for the bathroom light switch, squinting at the sudden brightness when the light finally came on. He trotted over to the toilet, grabbed onto his pyjama bottoms and froze.
Frantically, Sam felt around inside his pants but his search came up empty. A most important part of his anatomy was definitely missing. Sam's heretofore sleep-addled brain came instantly awake, and he dared a look downwards.
Holy crap. Not only was something missing, but Sam had managed to gain another thing as well. That being boobs, to be exact. Being attached to a body that wasn't Sam's body at all. His head shot up, searching for his reflection the mirror, only to be met with the round face of a girl who Sam guessed to be in her early teens.
Don't panic, dude. This is probably a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. Sam experimentally pinched himself but nothing happened. Maybe someone had slipped him something? Maybe the pizza he'd ordered earlier had had drugs in it? Yeah, that had to be it.
Sam rushed back into the room, loudly calling his brother's name.
“Dean. DEAN!”
However, instead of an answering gruff or even a pillow being flung at his head for daring to wake Dean in the middle of the night, the light to the bedroom suddenly came on as well, a strange woman appearing in the doorway.
Only now did Sam realize the room he was currently in was not the motel room, he had gone to sleep in. Here, pink was the domineering colour, rows of stuffed animals lined two large shelves to the left while on the right side there were posters of long-haired kid with bell bottomed pants. He gaped at the tableau.
For her part, the woman was looking at Sam disapprovingly.
“Samantha, what's all that noise about?”
Sam had the distinct impression the woman was talking to him, or at least to the host he currently inhabited - and crap, was that a weird case of possession? Soul jumping? Not to mention it would be his luck jumping into the body of a chick called “Samantha”. If Dean learned of this, Sam would never live it down.
“Young lady, I asked you a question. Why in all the heavens did you just scream like that?”
“Uh…nightmare?” Sam answered blankly.
The woman's features softened. “Ah honey.” A disapproving headshake followed, but this time Sam had the impression it wasn't directed at him. “I told your father not to let you watch these dreadful movies with him. They just give you nightmares.”
The woman sighed. “Hopefully you didn't wake up the neighbours. John and Mary probably don't get much sleep as it is, with the new baby and all.”
Sam froze. He was starting to get a weird feeling about this - if that was even possible. “J…John and Mary?”
“Well, I think you should address them as Mr. And Mrs.Winchester, sweetie.” Sam was fixed with a stern look. “I hope you do not think of taking up this new habit of calling your elders by their first names?”
Right now nothing could have been farther from Sam's mind than matters of proper etiquette but he shook his head dutifully, hoping if he played along, he might be able to gather a bit more information. All this was crazy. Surely he couldn't be…His family had seen and experienced a lot of weirdness but time travel? That had to take the cake.
The woman smiled. “You're a good girl, Sammy.”
Sam couldn't help a little flinch at the words. Oh, the irony. After years of fighting against the childish nickname, now of all times it came back with a vengeance.
“Um, maybe I should go over to the Winchesters and um…apologize?” It sounded weak to his own ears, but at the moment it was the best excuse to go over and check out the neighbours for himself, he could think of.
Bubbling laughter answered him. “But surely not right now, honey. It's the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, I…I guess not.”
Drat. Sam figured it wouldn't go over so well if he just marched out of here right now.
“Besides,” the woman droned on, “You'll see them tomorrow after breakfast.”
“I will?”
“Yeah, didn't you promise Mary to look after Dean? You didn't forget, did you? Just yesterday Mary told me what a reliable babysitter you are and how much Dean loves you.”
Sam suppressed a snort. Of course, on top of everything he'd be his brother's favorite babysitter. Then again, it would offer him easy access to the house.
“No, I didn't forget. Will I be looking after the baby, too?”
Now the woman looked concerned. “Is everything alright, honey? Did you hit your head?”
She was starting to walk towards Sam, hands outstretched as if to check Sam's bodily state. Instinctively Sam took a few steps back.
“No…Mom,” - a guess on Sam’s part but it seemed like the most logical option - “I'm fine. I was just…curious.”
The odd look on the woman's face didn't vanish. “Sweetie, if you'll be looking after Dean, you'll also be looking after a baby. He is only five and a half months, you can barely consider him anything else yet.”
Sam had to hold onto the back of a nearby chair to remain upright because his knees had suddenly turned to Jell-O. Dean was a baby? Five months old? That meants it was June 1979? Which in turn meant he hadn't even been born yet. He, Sam Winchester, did not yet exist. Could explain why he was occupying this form right now.
Sam flinched when a warm hand cupped his cheek, having been too pre-occupied with his thoughts to notice the woman coming closer.
“Did you have a nightmare about Dean, sweetie? I thought I heard you screaming his name earlier?” The woman was eyeing him quizzically.
“I…uh…” Sam didn't know how to answer that.
“No need to be embarrassed about that, Sammy. I know how fond you are of him,” the woman said, smiling gently.
Sam had a hard time holding in a hysterical giggle. Even as a tiny tyke Dean would have the girls swooning over him.
* * *
The next morning proved to be less difficult than Sam had feared. Apparently his “dad” had already left for work so Sam only had to deal with his “mom” Catherine, the woman from the night before. It was also the summer holidays so going to a strange school wasn't an issue. Getting a hang of the female body - a teenage one at that - took a little bit more effort as well as doing some serious soul-searching on unforeseen issues. Taking a shower for example proved to be quite a bit difficult if one felt like a dirty pervert for touching their own body, or even opening their eyes to look at it.
But, of course, all of that paled next to the thought of having his mother, his real life mother and not just a ghost or a vision, healthy and breathing just a couple doors away. Sam didn't know whether to drag his feet throughout breakfast or rush through the thing because at the end of it awaited a trip to his dear neighbours, the Winchesters.
Despite the fact that she'd given him life, Sam knew next to nothing about Mary Winchester. And despite all his brave insistence to Dean that they needed to know if something had been up with her, if what that yellow-eyed bastard and Ruby had told him was true, Sam wasn't sure he could handle the truth - whatever that might turn out to be. The one true meeting he had had with his mother, or rather her ghostly form, had ended in her giving her soul for him and Dean. As Dean had argued, didn't that mean more than anything else?
But Sam already knew that his inquisitive nature would not let him waste that once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity. So, he finished his milk and cornflakes and excused himself from the table, hurrying over to the Winchester's house. The one that had been his home for six months.
The back door was open - Sam felt a stab of pain at this evidence of the blissful innocence in which his family had once lived - and Sam walked in unattended. He came to a stop when he reached the open door to the living room area.
Mom.
She didn't appear to notice him - or her, as the case was - having her hands full with the baby. Mesmerized, Sam watched as Mary gently lifted little Dean out of his high chair, a little fist grabbing onto a long strand of blonde hair, tugging deftly. Sam wondered if she had done - would do - the same for him when the time came. It was abundantly clear that she was a loving mother; adoring that little bundle of energy she was tending to.
“Mom,” he whispered. Only this time, his lips formed the words along with his mind.
Mary must have heard him because she turned around, smiling when she saw him. “Oh, Sammy, I didn't hear you come in.”
“Sor…sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”
“No, it's alright. Dean is just extra-fuzzy this morning.” Turning to the baby, Mary grabbed one little feet. “Aren't you, angel?”
The baby just gurgled happily in response.
The warmth that spread through Sam in that moment was bittersweet nonetheless. As a little brother, there had been times he had envied Dean, but none so much as he did now. On the other hand, of all the possible scenarios Sam had envisioned for meeting his mother, being diaper-clad and getting his feet tickled by her hadn't been one of them.
Mary turned back to him. “Thank you for doing this for me, Sammy. I need to do some last minute shopping for John's birthday, and if I bring my little Dean-engine along, it will take me twice as long.”
Sam tried to smile. “No problem, M…Mrs.Winchester.”
He watched as his mother tenderly put Dean down into his playpen.
“He has been fed and is probably going to nap soon anyway, so he shouldn't give you too much trouble,” Mary explained. “Besides, I won't be long, anyway.”
She turned to grab her purse and jacket from the couch, and Sam who had been content just basking in her presence, looked up, stricken. “You're leaving already?”
Mary turned towards him, a surprised look on her face. “Yes, I wanted to get a head-start on John since he might pop back in early today.” She looked at Sam quizzically. “Was there something you needed first?”
Oh gosh, where to start on that question? Especially as he didn't know how long he would remain in this body. It could be an hour, a day or it could be permanent. The last thought was definitely scary.
But time issues or not, Sam realized, that he couldn't very well ask Mary to stay and bombard her with questions on her possible ties to demons and supernatural mysteries. At least not until he told her the truth. And Sam could just imagine how well that was going to go over.
”Hi, I'm your son from the future. No, not the short one over there, the one who hasn't even been born yet. Since you have been nailed to the ceiling and burned by a demon, our lives have pretty much sucked, so anything you want to tell me about that?”
So, instead, Sam bit his lip and tried to think of a convenient excuse to spend some time with his mother later. “Well, I…it's not urgent or anything, but can I talk to you after you get back?” He looked at her hopefully. “It's…it's a female thing,” he added. Sam wasn't sure if that had been the right tack, hopefully his mother didn't think he wanted to talk about female hygiene now. Because he really, really didn't.
Mary frowned. “Are you sure you don't want to talk about it with your mother?”
“No.” Sam coughed. “I mean, it's…um…boy-trouble and I'd rather talk with you. If that's okay?” He had no idea if he could make the puppy dog eyes work for him in this body, as well, but Sam gave it his best try.
Fortunately, it appeared to work for Mary smiled, if a bit uncertainly. “Sure, honey. We'll have a real girl-talk after I get back.” Then she bent down to kiss Dean's cheek. “Be good for Sammy, baby.”
A minute later Sam found himself alone with - literally - a baby brother. And he didn't quite know what to do. Apart from spending one horrible afternoon with Jess' young nephew, he didn't have much experience with kids. That was more Dean's area of expertise, being a big kid himself practically. Though, initially, it had been difficult for Sam to reconnect the tender, patient side his brother had shown to the traumatized little boy, whose father had been killed by a water spirit, with the brash brother he'd remembered. Then again, it made sense, seeing as Dean had had lots of experience raising Sam.
Unfortunately, there was no way to tap into that well of knowledge right now. And, personally, Sam much preferred to deal with moody teenagers. There was a plight he could relate to.
Carefully, he stepped closer to Dean. “Hey, man.”
The baby just gave him a bright, toothless grin, drool running from his mouth. The picture pretty much dashed Sam's tiny hope that, indeed, Dean had time-travelled with him and only Sam, due to the lack of a body of his own, had been re-directed in his new one.
Now Dean was even holding out his arms towards Sam, clearly entreating to be held.
Alarmed, Sam jumped back. No way he was touching the bomb…baby.
Upon realizing Sam, or rather Samantha, was not going to pick him up, Dean's little face scrunched up in dismay.
Uh-oh. Please no waterworks. Sam looked around for something to distract Dean with and spotted a stuffed bear sitting on the now deserted high chair. He took it and held it out to Dean who immediately grabbed it and started to slobber all over the poor thing.
However, Sam's reprieve was short-lived as Dean soon tired of the bear and held out his arms to Sam beseechingly again.
Sam groaned. “Come on, man, don't do this. That's too weird, even for us.”
In response Dean's lower lip started to tremble suspiciously, and soon enough the dreaded sobbing followed, making Sam feel like a heartless bastard.
Sighing deeply, he lifted Dean out of the pen and held him against his chest with extreme care. He awkwardly patted the baby's back in the hopes of putting a stop to the pitiful wailing. Miraculously, it worked as the sounds of distress emanating from the baby soon turned to the happy gurgling from earlier.
Sam swayed gently, congratulating himself on a job well done when…Whoa. Dean trying to nurse from him was definitely passing weird and going right into unacceptable.
He dislodged the baby from his chest and fixed him with an accusing glare.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
Of course, Dean only smiled, more drool running from his mouth - this time landing on Sam's hand.
The rational part of Sam's brain told him that Dean's interest in Sam's newly acquired boobs had more to do with nourishment than perversion. But seeing as this was Dean, one couldn't really be sure.
“You can't be hungry. Mom said she just fed you,” Sam reasoned.
The unpleasant smell suddenly filling the room informed Sam that, indeed, hunger wasn't Dean's problem. Or rather Sam's problem right now.
He looked at Dean in horror.
“No, no, no, no…tell me you didn’t.”
But the feeling of the diapered butt against his palm vanished all doubts as to the cause of the unpleasant odour.
Strangely, Dean seemed pretty okay with his current situation. But Sam looked longingly at the door, only wanting to call for his mommy back to save him from the sure-to-follow-trauma of changing his big - little - brother. Dean's current form helped but in his mind Sam couldn't stop picturing the thirty year old man he knew now.
Taking a deep breath, Sam decided to tackle the issue head-on - or butt-on in that case. All the necessary utensils seemed to be in the vicinity, luckily. So Sam spread a blanket on the floor and gingerly put Dean down on it, kneeling in front of him to unbutton Dean's jumpsuit. Belatedly, it struck Sam that the process would have been easier on the table but figured he might as well finish now.
At first, everything seemed to go well. Dean was disrobed in no time, and Sam quickly disposed of the soiled diaper, grabbing a new one from the package near-by. Steeling himself, he wiped the baby clean as fast as he could and without looking really spread a generous amount of powder on him. That should do, right?
Inwardly, Sam was proud of himself. For a newbie, he was doing a pretty good job. He was just about to refasten the new diaper when tragedy struck - in the form of warm liquid hitting Sam's chin.
“Ew, Dean.”
“That wasn't very gentleman-like, Dean-o.”
Sam jumped in surprise upon hearing the gravely voice. Turning around, he saw his father standing in the doorway, quite obviously trying to suppress his laughter - and failing miserably.
“Sorry, Sam, did I startle you?”
“No, no, it's okay…D… Sir.”
John came closer. “I'm gonna finish up with the little fountain here and you can go clean up in the bathroom. Or if you'd rather hop on home and change?”
“The…the bathroom is fine,” Sam stuttered, rising to his feet.
Overwhelmed by the prospect of meeting his mother, he initially hadn't thought much about seeing his father, as well. Now, seeing the man with baby Dean was uncanny. With Mary, it had been somewhat expected, but this tender, playful version of his father seemed strangely incongruent to Sam. He still hadn't come to terms with the man, not really, and he wondered if he ever would.
Fleeing the living room momentarily, Sam found himself lucky to find the bathroom pretty easily. He cleaned himself up as best as he could, and when he re-emerged into the living area, the little family scene had been joined by Mary. Dean was once more wearing his jumpsuit and had been deposited on the couch, sandwiched between his parents. They were the very picture of family bliss.
Upon seeing Sam, Mary looked apologetic. “I'm so sorry.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Unfortunately, little boys have a tendency to do that.”
Sam nodded. Wondering if he ever had christened Dean the same way as a baby, and that was all some cosmic payback.
Now with John and Mary here to take care of Dean, Sam was aware he didn't really have a reason to linger. It hurt, being excluded from the family like that, even though, rationally, he knew they had no idea.
“I…um…I…” he started, lamely.
“Oh,” Mary slapped her palm to her forehead lightly. “I promised you a girl talk, didn't I?” .
John chuckled. “Girl talk, huh? I guess us men are not allowed then?”
Mary poked him in the ribs. “Exactly.”
Sam looked between the two, not really wanting his father to leave but longing to have his mother to himself for a little while. So he couldn't help the feeling of relief when John took the baby and moved to carry him out of the room. “Come on, Dean-o, we're being exiled by the ladies.”
When the door had closed behind them, Mary looked up at Sam expectantly. “So, boy trouble, you said?”
“Um…yeah. There is a...boy.”
Great going, Sam. She probably thinks you're a retard now.
But Mary only smiled encouragingly, patting the empty seat next to her. Gingerly, Sam walked over to her and sat down.
“You don't mind me folding up the laundry in the meantime, do you?” Mary asked, obviously attempting to put Sam more at ease.
“No, sure, go ahead.”
In response Mary grabbed onto the laundry basket and started taking out tiny clothes, carefully folding them up.
“You like having a baby?” Sam couldn't even say why he blurted out the question at that moment.
Mary's busy hands came to a rest, and she looked at Sam alarmed. “You're not thinking of having one of your own already, Sammy? Because you're a bit too young for that. For, um, everything that has to do with it.”
Wow, getting the Talk from his father had been bad enough - and slightly unnecessary seeing as Sam had already gotten the live action version from walking in on Dean - but his mother talking to him about making, or having, babies was worse. And ten times weirder.
“No, none of that,” Sam tried to reassure her. “I just wondered if you'd like to have more.”
Smooth, Winchester, very smooth.
If Mary was startled by the turn of the conversation, she hid it well. A secret smile tugged at her mouth. “As a matter of fact, yes.” She chuckled. “Probably, I'm gonna wait till Dean is out of diapers, but yes, I'd love to have more.” A shadow crossed her face. “I just don't know if I'll have enough…” She trailed off.
“Enough what?” Sam leaned forward, intrigued.
She shook her head. “Ah, nevermind. So back to your boy, a secret crush maybe?”
Sam was annoyed at the sudden change of subject. He was sure Mary had been about to say something important. He tried to think of a way to bring it back up when he noticed the baby blanket Mary was in the process of folding. It was pale blue with white patterns on it, which, in itself, would be nothing special. What made the blood in his veins freeze, however, was that he recognized the patterns, and neither were they some random doodling nor simple geometrical shapes, though Sam would bet they looked like it to the random observer. Only a hunter would see in them the protective sigils in a Devil's Trap.
“That's a nice blanket,” he said numbly.
“Thank you.” Mary smiled proudly. “I made it myself when I learned I was going to have Dean.”
Trailing a finger over the intricate designs on the blanket, Sam tried to keep his voice calm, despite the storm raging inside his mind suddenly. “Those are interesting shapes.”
A wary look crossed Mary's face, but it was gone as quick as it became, leaving Sam to question if it hadn't been just his imagination. “Nothing special,” she deflected. “I think I copied them out of some children's book.”
Sam knew she was lying. He could tell by the tone of her voice. Oh, she had copied them out of a book all right, but it hadn't been a children's book. And Sam was pretty sure she had known what they meant. His mind reeled at the thought.
“What are you protecting Dean from?”
Mary's head shot up at the question. For a second she appeared stricken. Then she laughed. “From everything, of course. I'm a new mother, it's what we do.”
For some reason the edge of Sam's vision started to swim. He grabbed a hold of her wrist, Sam looked at her urgently.
“What are you protecting Dean from?” He repeated, forcing out the words with great effort.
A tiny part of his brain couldn't help but wonder. And did you not do it for me?
He shook his head, trying to clear the his vision, but it only started to get worse. Sam could feel darkness overtaking him, his mother's voice seemingly coming from very far. Then his world grew black.
* * *
When Sam awoke again, Dean's concerned face was peering down at him.
“Dude, you alright?”
Sam looked around, confused. Had everything just been a dream? “What…what happened?”
“What happened is I come home from the bar and find you lying on the floor, unconscious. You had one of your visions?”
Rubbing his eyes, Sam shook his head. “No. At least I don't think so. It was so vivid, I…”
“You what?”
“I was suddenly back in 1979,” Sam answered.
Dean's eyebrows rose nearly all the way to his hairline. “Dude, you doing drugs or anything?”
Sam scoffed. “I'm not doing drugs. I woke up and it was 1979.”
“But you were here the whole time. You probably just hit your head and had some crazy-ass dream.”
“Back in Lawrence, was there a family named Milligan living next door?”
Dean frowned. “You dug that up? Why? I may not remember a lot from back then but the Milligans didn't really strike me as evil demon worshippers or something.”
Ignoring Dean's sarcasm, Sam pressed on. “And did they also have a daughter who used to baby-sit you?”
Now Dean looked a bit freaked out. “I…it's a bit fuzzy but yeah, I think so. But how did you-“
“I was her,” Sam cut him off.
“You what?”
“I didn't wake up in the past as me but as her,” Sam explained. “And mom was there, dad and you, too. Everything was so real.”
Dean frowned. “You saw us, in your dream?”
Sam snorted. “Saw? Man, you peed on me.”
For a moment, Dean looked taken aback by this information. Then he grinned. “You dream some freaky shit, dude. But I so would have owed you that.”
Sam's eyes widened. “I didn't?”
Dean nodded. “Once.” Suddenly Dean sobered, gazing at the open laptop on the bed. “You did some more research on…on mom, didn't you? Or you called the Milligans even? Probably why your sub conscience cooked up this dream.”
Sam opened his mouth to protest but Dean held up a hand to silence him. “This digging around in the past, I don't like it.” He stroked his chin. “And did you find something in your dream?”
The memory of he last thing he'd seen before he'd been pulled back, rushed back to the surface of Sam's mind. His mother, the baby's blanket with the sigils. He already knew what Dean's answer would be to all that, that it hadn't been genuine, that Sam's imagination had just cooked up some conspiracy he wanted to find.
But somehow, Sam knew. In his heart he knew that he had been there, that he had seen the truth. It was only a breadcrumb but one, Sam would have to follow. However, he also realized that there was more than one truth.
“Sam?”
“Yeah, I learned something.”
Dean cocked his head. ”Which was?”
A gentle smile spread on Sam's face. “You were right, mom was a great woman. And she loved you.”
“She loved you too,” Dean pointed out.
Sam nodded. “I know.”
“And is that knowledge good enough for you?”
“I won't stop looking.” Sam held up a hand to stop Dean from protesting, “But it won't change the important things, I already know about her.”
Dean bit his lip, apparently struggling with something. “Alright,” he finally spoke, nodding in the direction of the laptop. “Show me what you got so far.”
- The End -
Title: Sneak Peek
Author: astri13
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sam, Dean, Mary, John
Word count: 5.465
Summary: Sam wants to find out more about his mother. A surprise babysitting gig for none other than his brother might help him with that.
Sneak Peek
“You boys take good care, will you?” The old woman looked at them fondly from where she lingered in the open doorway.
Sam politely smiled back. “We will, Mrs.Meaden. We will.”
She wringed her hands for a second. “Are you sure there is nothing else I can do for you? You were so kind to me, and I'd love to do something for you as well.“
“Really not necessary, we were glad to help out,” Sam deflected - for what must have been the millionth time. “And thanks again for the pie.”
From the edge of his vision he caught Dean's eye-roll but also noticed how his brother kept clutching the plate holding said pie to his chest lovingly. Just on principle Sam answered the action with one of his patented bitch-faces.
Mrs.Meaden was a nice lady who had attracted some nasty poltergeist business, and Sam felt bad for her, even if she had been a bit on the tedious side. He had also noticed how Dean, despite all the pretence of being deeply put-upon by the old woman's fuzziness, had offered up his arm to help her get up from a chair or walk down the old, rickety stairs in her house.
“Well, if you're sure…” Mrs.Meaden still didn't look completely satisfied with the way things were left but finally closed the door, leaving the brothers to themselves.
“Thank god. I was afraid she was never gonna let us leave,” Dean muttered.
Sam's elbow jabbed him in the ribs. “You know, you liked her.”
“Ow. And watch out for that pie,” Dean grumbled.
“Do you have anything else on your mind but food?”
Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“And chicks?” Sam asked, exasperated.
Dean laughed. “Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it.”
“Har har, very funny,” Sam said dryly. “I'm not a virgin, you know.”
“Really, Sammy? Maybe we can hit that little bar, we saw on our way into town, tonight so you can vouch for that statement.”
Sam folded his arms in front of his chest, frowning. “I thought we agreed that after we were done with this case, we'd do some more research on--”
“I believe you have the order mixed up, dude. First comes the case, then research,” Dean cut him off, and while the words definitely carried a humorous undertone, a distinct look of discomfort appeared on his face..
Sam wasn't taken by the clear attempt at subterfuge. He knew that Dean knew what he had been getting at. “Why are you being so stubborn about that? Aren't you curious even a little bit?”
Dean turned his head to the side, avoiding Sam's questioning gaze. “She was our mom. And she loved us. Why do you need to know more?” He asked quietly.
Fiddling with the hem of his jacket, Sam sighed. He knew how hard it was for his brother to even talk about her. But it wasn't exactly a walk in the park for Sam either. He just wanted to get to know her, for better or for worse. Still, he definitely would have to tread lightly with Dean on the subject.
“Because it's still influencing our lives,” Sam tried to reason. “And I can't just ignore what they told me.”
“You mean demons, what demons told you,” Dean spat.
“Dean, I checked it out. It wasn't all lies. So whatever she did-“
“She didn't do anything,“ Dean yelled angrily. “It was not her fault.”
Uh-oh, so much for treading lightly.
“I didn't say it was,” Sam protested.
Dean's look was accusing. “But you're also not sure, right? About her? About the kind of person she was?” He shook his head in disdain.
Sam opened his mouth to engage in some damage control, explain himself in better terms, but Dean had already turned on his heel and was currently in the process of stalking over to the car, his whole posture radiating anger.
Dejectedly, Sam followed him, wondering how he would ever manage to uncover something about the apparent mystery surrounding their mother when his brother, partner and best friend was going to fight him every step of the way.
* * *
So caught up in their own misery they were, neither brother noticed the sleek black cat slipping back into the house to report its newly acquired knowledge back to its mistress. Just like any self-respecting witch's good familiar is wont to do.
Its mistress stroked his fur gently. “Hm, hm, that will take some effort and it won't last long. Hopefully the boy will find what he is looking for - and the other will get some peace of mind for it.”
The cat meowed and the woman nodded. “Lets get to work then.”
* * *
Sam was awoken by the pressing urge to go to the bathroom. He groaned, not wanting to leave his - surprisingly for a backwater motel - nice and comfy bed but figured the alternative wasn't really acceptable. So he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. If Dean had returned from his trip to the bar already, one he had pointedly gone on alone, purposefully waking him up right now would only result in more crankiness and fighting. And Sam was way too tired for that.
When Sam's toe painfully connected with a solid object, he cursed, figuring it was probably the weapon's bag. Stupid Dean. Time and again, Sam had told him not to let the damn thing lie around on the ground. So much for being considerate.
Still caught in a half-sleeping state, Sam hopped on. His hand felt around for the bathroom light switch, squinting at the sudden brightness when the light finally came on. He trotted over to the toilet, grabbed onto his pyjama bottoms and froze.
Frantically, Sam felt around inside his pants but his search came up empty. A most important part of his anatomy was definitely missing. Sam's heretofore sleep-addled brain came instantly awake, and he dared a look downwards.
Holy crap. Not only was something missing, but Sam had managed to gain another thing as well. That being boobs, to be exact. Being attached to a body that wasn't Sam's body at all. His head shot up, searching for his reflection the mirror, only to be met with the round face of a girl who Sam guessed to be in her early teens.
Don't panic, dude. This is probably a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. Sam experimentally pinched himself but nothing happened. Maybe someone had slipped him something? Maybe the pizza he'd ordered earlier had had drugs in it? Yeah, that had to be it.
Sam rushed back into the room, loudly calling his brother's name.
“Dean. DEAN!”
However, instead of an answering gruff or even a pillow being flung at his head for daring to wake Dean in the middle of the night, the light to the bedroom suddenly came on as well, a strange woman appearing in the doorway.
Only now did Sam realize the room he was currently in was not the motel room, he had gone to sleep in. Here, pink was the domineering colour, rows of stuffed animals lined two large shelves to the left while on the right side there were posters of long-haired kid with bell bottomed pants. He gaped at the tableau.
For her part, the woman was looking at Sam disapprovingly.
“Samantha, what's all that noise about?”
Sam had the distinct impression the woman was talking to him, or at least to the host he currently inhabited - and crap, was that a weird case of possession? Soul jumping? Not to mention it would be his luck jumping into the body of a chick called “Samantha”. If Dean learned of this, Sam would never live it down.
“Young lady, I asked you a question. Why in all the heavens did you just scream like that?”
“Uh…nightmare?” Sam answered blankly.
The woman's features softened. “Ah honey.” A disapproving headshake followed, but this time Sam had the impression it wasn't directed at him. “I told your father not to let you watch these dreadful movies with him. They just give you nightmares.”
The woman sighed. “Hopefully you didn't wake up the neighbours. John and Mary probably don't get much sleep as it is, with the new baby and all.”
Sam froze. He was starting to get a weird feeling about this - if that was even possible. “J…John and Mary?”
“Well, I think you should address them as Mr. And Mrs.Winchester, sweetie.” Sam was fixed with a stern look. “I hope you do not think of taking up this new habit of calling your elders by their first names?”
Right now nothing could have been farther from Sam's mind than matters of proper etiquette but he shook his head dutifully, hoping if he played along, he might be able to gather a bit more information. All this was crazy. Surely he couldn't be…His family had seen and experienced a lot of weirdness but time travel? That had to take the cake.
The woman smiled. “You're a good girl, Sammy.”
Sam couldn't help a little flinch at the words. Oh, the irony. After years of fighting against the childish nickname, now of all times it came back with a vengeance.
“Um, maybe I should go over to the Winchesters and um…apologize?” It sounded weak to his own ears, but at the moment it was the best excuse to go over and check out the neighbours for himself, he could think of.
Bubbling laughter answered him. “But surely not right now, honey. It's the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, I…I guess not.”
Drat. Sam figured it wouldn't go over so well if he just marched out of here right now.
“Besides,” the woman droned on, “You'll see them tomorrow after breakfast.”
“I will?”
“Yeah, didn't you promise Mary to look after Dean? You didn't forget, did you? Just yesterday Mary told me what a reliable babysitter you are and how much Dean loves you.”
Sam suppressed a snort. Of course, on top of everything he'd be his brother's favorite babysitter. Then again, it would offer him easy access to the house.
“No, I didn't forget. Will I be looking after the baby, too?”
Now the woman looked concerned. “Is everything alright, honey? Did you hit your head?”
She was starting to walk towards Sam, hands outstretched as if to check Sam's bodily state. Instinctively Sam took a few steps back.
“No…Mom,” - a guess on Sam’s part but it seemed like the most logical option - “I'm fine. I was just…curious.”
The odd look on the woman's face didn't vanish. “Sweetie, if you'll be looking after Dean, you'll also be looking after a baby. He is only five and a half months, you can barely consider him anything else yet.”
Sam had to hold onto the back of a nearby chair to remain upright because his knees had suddenly turned to Jell-O. Dean was a baby? Five months old? That meants it was June 1979? Which in turn meant he hadn't even been born yet. He, Sam Winchester, did not yet exist. Could explain why he was occupying this form right now.
Sam flinched when a warm hand cupped his cheek, having been too pre-occupied with his thoughts to notice the woman coming closer.
“Did you have a nightmare about Dean, sweetie? I thought I heard you screaming his name earlier?” The woman was eyeing him quizzically.
“I…uh…” Sam didn't know how to answer that.
“No need to be embarrassed about that, Sammy. I know how fond you are of him,” the woman said, smiling gently.
Sam had a hard time holding in a hysterical giggle. Even as a tiny tyke Dean would have the girls swooning over him.
* * *
The next morning proved to be less difficult than Sam had feared. Apparently his “dad” had already left for work so Sam only had to deal with his “mom” Catherine, the woman from the night before. It was also the summer holidays so going to a strange school wasn't an issue. Getting a hang of the female body - a teenage one at that - took a little bit more effort as well as doing some serious soul-searching on unforeseen issues. Taking a shower for example proved to be quite a bit difficult if one felt like a dirty pervert for touching their own body, or even opening their eyes to look at it.
But, of course, all of that paled next to the thought of having his mother, his real life mother and not just a ghost or a vision, healthy and breathing just a couple doors away. Sam didn't know whether to drag his feet throughout breakfast or rush through the thing because at the end of it awaited a trip to his dear neighbours, the Winchesters.
Despite the fact that she'd given him life, Sam knew next to nothing about Mary Winchester. And despite all his brave insistence to Dean that they needed to know if something had been up with her, if what that yellow-eyed bastard and Ruby had told him was true, Sam wasn't sure he could handle the truth - whatever that might turn out to be. The one true meeting he had had with his mother, or rather her ghostly form, had ended in her giving her soul for him and Dean. As Dean had argued, didn't that mean more than anything else?
But Sam already knew that his inquisitive nature would not let him waste that once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity. So, he finished his milk and cornflakes and excused himself from the table, hurrying over to the Winchester's house. The one that had been his home for six months.
The back door was open - Sam felt a stab of pain at this evidence of the blissful innocence in which his family had once lived - and Sam walked in unattended. He came to a stop when he reached the open door to the living room area.
Mom.
She didn't appear to notice him - or her, as the case was - having her hands full with the baby. Mesmerized, Sam watched as Mary gently lifted little Dean out of his high chair, a little fist grabbing onto a long strand of blonde hair, tugging deftly. Sam wondered if she had done - would do - the same for him when the time came. It was abundantly clear that she was a loving mother; adoring that little bundle of energy she was tending to.
“Mom,” he whispered. Only this time, his lips formed the words along with his mind.
Mary must have heard him because she turned around, smiling when she saw him. “Oh, Sammy, I didn't hear you come in.”
“Sor…sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”
“No, it's alright. Dean is just extra-fuzzy this morning.” Turning to the baby, Mary grabbed one little feet. “Aren't you, angel?”
The baby just gurgled happily in response.
The warmth that spread through Sam in that moment was bittersweet nonetheless. As a little brother, there had been times he had envied Dean, but none so much as he did now. On the other hand, of all the possible scenarios Sam had envisioned for meeting his mother, being diaper-clad and getting his feet tickled by her hadn't been one of them.
Mary turned back to him. “Thank you for doing this for me, Sammy. I need to do some last minute shopping for John's birthday, and if I bring my little Dean-engine along, it will take me twice as long.”
Sam tried to smile. “No problem, M…Mrs.Winchester.”
He watched as his mother tenderly put Dean down into his playpen.
“He has been fed and is probably going to nap soon anyway, so he shouldn't give you too much trouble,” Mary explained. “Besides, I won't be long, anyway.”
She turned to grab her purse and jacket from the couch, and Sam who had been content just basking in her presence, looked up, stricken. “You're leaving already?”
Mary turned towards him, a surprised look on her face. “Yes, I wanted to get a head-start on John since he might pop back in early today.” She looked at Sam quizzically. “Was there something you needed first?”
Oh gosh, where to start on that question? Especially as he didn't know how long he would remain in this body. It could be an hour, a day or it could be permanent. The last thought was definitely scary.
But time issues or not, Sam realized, that he couldn't very well ask Mary to stay and bombard her with questions on her possible ties to demons and supernatural mysteries. At least not until he told her the truth. And Sam could just imagine how well that was going to go over.
”Hi, I'm your son from the future. No, not the short one over there, the one who hasn't even been born yet. Since you have been nailed to the ceiling and burned by a demon, our lives have pretty much sucked, so anything you want to tell me about that?”
So, instead, Sam bit his lip and tried to think of a convenient excuse to spend some time with his mother later. “Well, I…it's not urgent or anything, but can I talk to you after you get back?” He looked at her hopefully. “It's…it's a female thing,” he added. Sam wasn't sure if that had been the right tack, hopefully his mother didn't think he wanted to talk about female hygiene now. Because he really, really didn't.
Mary frowned. “Are you sure you don't want to talk about it with your mother?”
“No.” Sam coughed. “I mean, it's…um…boy-trouble and I'd rather talk with you. If that's okay?” He had no idea if he could make the puppy dog eyes work for him in this body, as well, but Sam gave it his best try.
Fortunately, it appeared to work for Mary smiled, if a bit uncertainly. “Sure, honey. We'll have a real girl-talk after I get back.” Then she bent down to kiss Dean's cheek. “Be good for Sammy, baby.”
A minute later Sam found himself alone with - literally - a baby brother. And he didn't quite know what to do. Apart from spending one horrible afternoon with Jess' young nephew, he didn't have much experience with kids. That was more Dean's area of expertise, being a big kid himself practically. Though, initially, it had been difficult for Sam to reconnect the tender, patient side his brother had shown to the traumatized little boy, whose father had been killed by a water spirit, with the brash brother he'd remembered. Then again, it made sense, seeing as Dean had had lots of experience raising Sam.
Unfortunately, there was no way to tap into that well of knowledge right now. And, personally, Sam much preferred to deal with moody teenagers. There was a plight he could relate to.
Carefully, he stepped closer to Dean. “Hey, man.”
The baby just gave him a bright, toothless grin, drool running from his mouth. The picture pretty much dashed Sam's tiny hope that, indeed, Dean had time-travelled with him and only Sam, due to the lack of a body of his own, had been re-directed in his new one.
Now Dean was even holding out his arms towards Sam, clearly entreating to be held.
Alarmed, Sam jumped back. No way he was touching the bomb…baby.
Upon realizing Sam, or rather Samantha, was not going to pick him up, Dean's little face scrunched up in dismay.
Uh-oh. Please no waterworks. Sam looked around for something to distract Dean with and spotted a stuffed bear sitting on the now deserted high chair. He took it and held it out to Dean who immediately grabbed it and started to slobber all over the poor thing.
However, Sam's reprieve was short-lived as Dean soon tired of the bear and held out his arms to Sam beseechingly again.
Sam groaned. “Come on, man, don't do this. That's too weird, even for us.”
In response Dean's lower lip started to tremble suspiciously, and soon enough the dreaded sobbing followed, making Sam feel like a heartless bastard.
Sighing deeply, he lifted Dean out of the pen and held him against his chest with extreme care. He awkwardly patted the baby's back in the hopes of putting a stop to the pitiful wailing. Miraculously, it worked as the sounds of distress emanating from the baby soon turned to the happy gurgling from earlier.
Sam swayed gently, congratulating himself on a job well done when…Whoa. Dean trying to nurse from him was definitely passing weird and going right into unacceptable.
He dislodged the baby from his chest and fixed him with an accusing glare.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
Of course, Dean only smiled, more drool running from his mouth - this time landing on Sam's hand.
The rational part of Sam's brain told him that Dean's interest in Sam's newly acquired boobs had more to do with nourishment than perversion. But seeing as this was Dean, one couldn't really be sure.
“You can't be hungry. Mom said she just fed you,” Sam reasoned.
The unpleasant smell suddenly filling the room informed Sam that, indeed, hunger wasn't Dean's problem. Or rather Sam's problem right now.
He looked at Dean in horror.
“No, no, no, no…tell me you didn’t.”
But the feeling of the diapered butt against his palm vanished all doubts as to the cause of the unpleasant odour.
Strangely, Dean seemed pretty okay with his current situation. But Sam looked longingly at the door, only wanting to call for his mommy back to save him from the sure-to-follow-trauma of changing his big - little - brother. Dean's current form helped but in his mind Sam couldn't stop picturing the thirty year old man he knew now.
Taking a deep breath, Sam decided to tackle the issue head-on - or butt-on in that case. All the necessary utensils seemed to be in the vicinity, luckily. So Sam spread a blanket on the floor and gingerly put Dean down on it, kneeling in front of him to unbutton Dean's jumpsuit. Belatedly, it struck Sam that the process would have been easier on the table but figured he might as well finish now.
At first, everything seemed to go well. Dean was disrobed in no time, and Sam quickly disposed of the soiled diaper, grabbing a new one from the package near-by. Steeling himself, he wiped the baby clean as fast as he could and without looking really spread a generous amount of powder on him. That should do, right?
Inwardly, Sam was proud of himself. For a newbie, he was doing a pretty good job. He was just about to refasten the new diaper when tragedy struck - in the form of warm liquid hitting Sam's chin.
“Ew, Dean.”
“That wasn't very gentleman-like, Dean-o.”
Sam jumped in surprise upon hearing the gravely voice. Turning around, he saw his father standing in the doorway, quite obviously trying to suppress his laughter - and failing miserably.
“Sorry, Sam, did I startle you?”
“No, no, it's okay…D… Sir.”
John came closer. “I'm gonna finish up with the little fountain here and you can go clean up in the bathroom. Or if you'd rather hop on home and change?”
“The…the bathroom is fine,” Sam stuttered, rising to his feet.
Overwhelmed by the prospect of meeting his mother, he initially hadn't thought much about seeing his father, as well. Now, seeing the man with baby Dean was uncanny. With Mary, it had been somewhat expected, but this tender, playful version of his father seemed strangely incongruent to Sam. He still hadn't come to terms with the man, not really, and he wondered if he ever would.
Fleeing the living room momentarily, Sam found himself lucky to find the bathroom pretty easily. He cleaned himself up as best as he could, and when he re-emerged into the living area, the little family scene had been joined by Mary. Dean was once more wearing his jumpsuit and had been deposited on the couch, sandwiched between his parents. They were the very picture of family bliss.
Upon seeing Sam, Mary looked apologetic. “I'm so sorry.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Unfortunately, little boys have a tendency to do that.”
Sam nodded. Wondering if he ever had christened Dean the same way as a baby, and that was all some cosmic payback.
Now with John and Mary here to take care of Dean, Sam was aware he didn't really have a reason to linger. It hurt, being excluded from the family like that, even though, rationally, he knew they had no idea.
“I…um…I…” he started, lamely.
“Oh,” Mary slapped her palm to her forehead lightly. “I promised you a girl talk, didn't I?” .
John chuckled. “Girl talk, huh? I guess us men are not allowed then?”
Mary poked him in the ribs. “Exactly.”
Sam looked between the two, not really wanting his father to leave but longing to have his mother to himself for a little while. So he couldn't help the feeling of relief when John took the baby and moved to carry him out of the room. “Come on, Dean-o, we're being exiled by the ladies.”
When the door had closed behind them, Mary looked up at Sam expectantly. “So, boy trouble, you said?”
“Um…yeah. There is a...boy.”
Great going, Sam. She probably thinks you're a retard now.
But Mary only smiled encouragingly, patting the empty seat next to her. Gingerly, Sam walked over to her and sat down.
“You don't mind me folding up the laundry in the meantime, do you?” Mary asked, obviously attempting to put Sam more at ease.
“No, sure, go ahead.”
In response Mary grabbed onto the laundry basket and started taking out tiny clothes, carefully folding them up.
“You like having a baby?” Sam couldn't even say why he blurted out the question at that moment.
Mary's busy hands came to a rest, and she looked at Sam alarmed. “You're not thinking of having one of your own already, Sammy? Because you're a bit too young for that. For, um, everything that has to do with it.”
Wow, getting the Talk from his father had been bad enough - and slightly unnecessary seeing as Sam had already gotten the live action version from walking in on Dean - but his mother talking to him about making, or having, babies was worse. And ten times weirder.
“No, none of that,” Sam tried to reassure her. “I just wondered if you'd like to have more.”
Smooth, Winchester, very smooth.
If Mary was startled by the turn of the conversation, she hid it well. A secret smile tugged at her mouth. “As a matter of fact, yes.” She chuckled. “Probably, I'm gonna wait till Dean is out of diapers, but yes, I'd love to have more.” A shadow crossed her face. “I just don't know if I'll have enough…” She trailed off.
“Enough what?” Sam leaned forward, intrigued.
She shook her head. “Ah, nevermind. So back to your boy, a secret crush maybe?”
Sam was annoyed at the sudden change of subject. He was sure Mary had been about to say something important. He tried to think of a way to bring it back up when he noticed the baby blanket Mary was in the process of folding. It was pale blue with white patterns on it, which, in itself, would be nothing special. What made the blood in his veins freeze, however, was that he recognized the patterns, and neither were they some random doodling nor simple geometrical shapes, though Sam would bet they looked like it to the random observer. Only a hunter would see in them the protective sigils in a Devil's Trap.
“That's a nice blanket,” he said numbly.
“Thank you.” Mary smiled proudly. “I made it myself when I learned I was going to have Dean.”
Trailing a finger over the intricate designs on the blanket, Sam tried to keep his voice calm, despite the storm raging inside his mind suddenly. “Those are interesting shapes.”
A wary look crossed Mary's face, but it was gone as quick as it became, leaving Sam to question if it hadn't been just his imagination. “Nothing special,” she deflected. “I think I copied them out of some children's book.”
Sam knew she was lying. He could tell by the tone of her voice. Oh, she had copied them out of a book all right, but it hadn't been a children's book. And Sam was pretty sure she had known what they meant. His mind reeled at the thought.
“What are you protecting Dean from?”
Mary's head shot up at the question. For a second she appeared stricken. Then she laughed. “From everything, of course. I'm a new mother, it's what we do.”
For some reason the edge of Sam's vision started to swim. He grabbed a hold of her wrist, Sam looked at her urgently.
“What are you protecting Dean from?” He repeated, forcing out the words with great effort.
A tiny part of his brain couldn't help but wonder. And did you not do it for me?
He shook his head, trying to clear the his vision, but it only started to get worse. Sam could feel darkness overtaking him, his mother's voice seemingly coming from very far. Then his world grew black.
* * *
When Sam awoke again, Dean's concerned face was peering down at him.
“Dude, you alright?”
Sam looked around, confused. Had everything just been a dream? “What…what happened?”
“What happened is I come home from the bar and find you lying on the floor, unconscious. You had one of your visions?”
Rubbing his eyes, Sam shook his head. “No. At least I don't think so. It was so vivid, I…”
“You what?”
“I was suddenly back in 1979,” Sam answered.
Dean's eyebrows rose nearly all the way to his hairline. “Dude, you doing drugs or anything?”
Sam scoffed. “I'm not doing drugs. I woke up and it was 1979.”
“But you were here the whole time. You probably just hit your head and had some crazy-ass dream.”
“Back in Lawrence, was there a family named Milligan living next door?”
Dean frowned. “You dug that up? Why? I may not remember a lot from back then but the Milligans didn't really strike me as evil demon worshippers or something.”
Ignoring Dean's sarcasm, Sam pressed on. “And did they also have a daughter who used to baby-sit you?”
Now Dean looked a bit freaked out. “I…it's a bit fuzzy but yeah, I think so. But how did you-“
“I was her,” Sam cut him off.
“You what?”
“I didn't wake up in the past as me but as her,” Sam explained. “And mom was there, dad and you, too. Everything was so real.”
Dean frowned. “You saw us, in your dream?”
Sam snorted. “Saw? Man, you peed on me.”
For a moment, Dean looked taken aback by this information. Then he grinned. “You dream some freaky shit, dude. But I so would have owed you that.”
Sam's eyes widened. “I didn't?”
Dean nodded. “Once.” Suddenly Dean sobered, gazing at the open laptop on the bed. “You did some more research on…on mom, didn't you? Or you called the Milligans even? Probably why your sub conscience cooked up this dream.”
Sam opened his mouth to protest but Dean held up a hand to silence him. “This digging around in the past, I don't like it.” He stroked his chin. “And did you find something in your dream?”
The memory of he last thing he'd seen before he'd been pulled back, rushed back to the surface of Sam's mind. His mother, the baby's blanket with the sigils. He already knew what Dean's answer would be to all that, that it hadn't been genuine, that Sam's imagination had just cooked up some conspiracy he wanted to find.
But somehow, Sam knew. In his heart he knew that he had been there, that he had seen the truth. It was only a breadcrumb but one, Sam would have to follow. However, he also realized that there was more than one truth.
“Sam?”
“Yeah, I learned something.”
Dean cocked his head. ”Which was?”
A gentle smile spread on Sam's face. “You were right, mom was a great woman. And she loved you.”
“She loved you too,” Dean pointed out.
Sam nodded. “I know.”
“And is that knowledge good enough for you?”
“I won't stop looking.” Sam held up a hand to stop Dean from protesting, “But it won't change the important things, I already know about her.”
Dean bit his lip, apparently struggling with something. “Alright,” he finally spoke, nodding in the direction of the laptop. “Show me what you got so far.”
- The End -