Different Roads: First Summer 3/5
Sammy walked into Mercer's Garage at 4.35 on the nose and right into a bear hug and an enthusiastic "Happy birthday, Squirt!" from Leo.
Laughing, Sammy extricated himself and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Thanks, Lion-O." The name never failed to make Leo laugh, and now was no exception. "Where's Dean? Usually he's right here...."
Leo jerked a thumb. "He's in with Old Man Mercer. They've got a thing or two to work out."
Sammy frowned. "Is there some kind of problem?"
Leo leaned in and whispered, "I think it's part of your birthday present."
The office door opened and Mercer walked out, Dean right behind him. He shook Dean's hand, then pulled him into a hug.
Dean returned it, then climbed down the stairs. "Hey, Sammy! Ready to blow this popsicle stand?"
Sammy frowned. "You work till eight."
"Not on his brother's birthday, he doesn't!" Mercer laughed. He caught up with Dean, put his hand into Dean's shirt pocket, then patted it.
Dean looked into his pocket, then back at Mercer. "Oh, no. C'mon, sir..."
"Aaah, not one word." Mercer waved a finger at him. "You're young, but you're one of my best. This is my present to the lad."
Dean shook his head. "It....It's too much! After all you've already done--"
Mercer smiled. "I had Leo put something in your car, Dean. No arguments. Just say 'thank you' and be on your way."
"Th-Thank you," Dean stammered as he and Sammy walked to the parking lot in a daze. The car looked the same. Dean opened the trunk and let out a yelp the likes of which Sammy had rarely heard from his brother.
"What?" Sammy raced to his side, looked in the trunk -- and froze, his jaw lowering.
Four shotguns. Four pistols. Box after box of ammunition. Eight gallons of water marked "HW". Ten huge bags of rock salt.
And a handwritten note. Give Singer my best next time you see him. -- Mercer
Sammy glanced over to see tears running down Dean's face. ".....Dean?"
He just shook his head and closed the trunk. His hands moved. Kind. Kind.
Sammy nodded, understanding. All of his life, they'd had to scramble and struggle. And now... "The whole town is, did you notice?"
Few bad eggs.
"Yeah, that's normal. But -- this small town's trying to help us make it." He glanced at the closed trunk. "In every way."
Nice change. Nice. Dean got into the car and just stared at his hands.
Sammy climbed in. "What did he put in your pocket?"
"Money." Dean whispered. He smiled at Sammy. "Feel like Italian tonight?"
"After my presents and homework."
"Works for me," Dean grinned.
At home, Dean gave Sammy a plain box. "Hunter's present first."
Sammy opened it, to find a sickle-shaped folded knife. "Dean, this thing is huge!"
"Remember when you broke your arm last year and the x-ray showed us your growth plates? It's huge because you're gonna be huge. You're built like Dad - raw-boned and gonna be taller than me."
"Never."
Dean just laughed. "So I got you something that'll fit a larger hand."
Sammy smiled and set it aside. "And the present present?"
Dean handed him an envelope and Sammy gasped when he opened it. "You didn't!"
"I did. Know how much you like 'em."
Sammy hugged him, and Dean laughed as the subscription for two years' worth of three kinds of word and logic and variety puzzle magazines fluttered to the ground.
"And one more," Dean whispered.
Sammy pulled back. "More? Dude, this has already been the best birthday ever! And there's more?"
"M-hm." Dean beamed at him. "I got the job."