[TMS] Henry Miller quote
[Set in whatyou_wanted. Sam Winchester is imnot_likeyou and mine to use and abuse. Dean referenced is ohgodkillme_now. It is so hard writing a prompt with two Sams. Seriously.]
“I soon found out you can't change the world. The best you can do is to learn to live with it.”
First rule of being a Time Agent: Screw them before they screw you.
That lesson had been apparent to Sam Axe from the beginning. He came out of the experience with very few loyalties, very few friends, and a partner who never really managed to grasp the concept. He had to say, for all his bluster and hardass, John Winchester never lost sight of the original Agency mission statement of first do no harm. He never looted, never took what he didn’t have to, and while Sam came out of his agency years with more loot and tech than he knew what to do with, John just wanted to go home to his boys. Admirable, to be sure, but not a way to build a plan for retirement.
In fact, the way to build a plan for retirement from the Agency was to have your own version of a vortex manipulator, and a stash house in the twenty-first century. Or to be in middle management, but that really wasn’t all that appealing. John had neither, probably because he would never leave his sons for anything in the world. Sam would have helped him, if he had known, but he managed to get there too late.
He had to say, for all it’s losses, he very much liked 2009. The technology was archaic, but the women were beautiful, and really, at his age? That was what he cared about more than if computers were the size of a text book or a wrist watch. That, plus the impressive amount of money that he had managed to stack up for himself over the years, and he was set for life-more or less. The jury was still out on being Sam Winchester’s informant, though.
“You need a drink, Sammy,” he sighed, facing the bar as he hit blend on the blender. He could hear Sam trying to talk over the grinding ice and he just smirked before shouting. “Gonna have to talk a little louder than that, son. My hearing’s going. I’m gettin’ old.”
The blender finished grinding and Sam started pouring the glasses before the younger man spoke up again. “Yeah. The day you’re going deaf, I’ll run for president. And you know how I feel about people calling me Sammy.”
“Watch that,” Sam pointed, handing him one of the piña coladas. “I’m like family. You were named after me.” A total crock but an inside joke between him and John for as long as he could remember.
“Right. Because Mom was such a big fan of you.” The tone was dry, but affectionate at the same time, which was rare in terms of Sam as of late. It only came out with a mention of Dean, John or Mary. Only for family, the thing that the agency had decided to rob him of completely.
The smile on the older man’s face softened at the mention of Mary. Mary was probably the best thing that had ever happened to John, and it was a shame that they had lost her so early on. “Your mother adored me. Always did.”
“Sure she did,” Sam nodded, before taking a long sip of her drink, making a face at the strength. “Trying to kill me, Sam?”
“Hopefully before the ‘I need a favor’ comes out of your mouth,” he replied, before settling back in the lounge chair. Sam started to open his mouth, and the older man cut him off, holding up his hand. “And before you start with ‘can’t I see an old friend,’ you never liked me that much. Also, apparently, you’re an agent. There’s always an angle.” He’d done this job for forty plus years. He knew every move in the book.
The younger man took a breath, before nodding. “Any chance you have some kind of a vortex manipulation tracker in your bag of tricks?”
Sam’s eyebrows went up and he straightened slightly in his chair. “That’s some pretty heavy tech you’re looking for, Sammy. Illegal too.” More for the agency’s own purposes than anything else, but that wasn’t the point. Illegal was illegal, and as far as the youngest Winchester was concerned, he was still legal.
“Does that mean you don’t have it?”
The look on Sam’s face indicated that he highly doubted that it wasn’t in the ex-agent’s arsenal. His jaw clenched slightly, before pushing up and gesturing for the younger man to come with him. They made their way back into the house, and down to the basement, pushing a few buttons as the walls started to rearrange to reveal a thick, steel plated door. He paused to punch in the key code, before looking back. “You gonna tell me what this is about?”
As he opened his mouth, seeming like he was going to tow the party line, Sam just pulled him inside the safe, not in the mood to hear it. He waited until the door closed behind them, before crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Alright, Sammy, enough with the Agency crap. Tell me what’s going on.”
The agent stared him down for a long moment, before the hardened Time Agent started to fade and a bit more of the boy he used to know started to appear. He paused for a moment, running a hand over his face as he sat down in one of the nearby seats. “Dean’s alive.”
Sam almost dropped his drink. “What? You’ve seen him?”
“No, I haven’t but-” He took a breath, and Sam could see the wheels in his head turning. “-but I can feel it. He’s out there, somewhere, and I just need to find him. I need to know if he’s okay.”
The older man turned away from him, rubbing his jaw lightly. “There’s some things they don’t have to lie about, Sam.”
“They said he got hit by a goddamn train. Does that really sound like Dean to you?”
“Hey, it’s happened. Rift spits you out right when the headlights are bearing down-better agents have gone out that way.”
“Not Dean. Not. Dean. If my brother really was dead, I would know.”
Sam hesitated, and he could tell by the look in the agent’s eyes that the idea of his brother being alive was the only thing holding him together. And for all his need to be a realist, he couldn’t take that away from him. “So what do you need from me?”
The younger man took a breath, rubbing his thighs lightly as he pushed himself to his feet. “Do you think you can monitor those coming and going? Whether it’s by vortex manipulator or something bigger. And if someone familiar happens to slip through-”
“I give you a call. I can do that.”
“Thank you.” He pushed himself to his feet, before starting to head towards the door. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
Sam walked him to the door, and as he watched the man climb into his car, he took a breath and nodded. “Sammy, I think I have a pretty good idea.”
1181 words
“I soon found out you can't change the world. The best you can do is to learn to live with it.”
First rule of being a Time Agent: Screw them before they screw you.
That lesson had been apparent to Sam Axe from the beginning. He came out of the experience with very few loyalties, very few friends, and a partner who never really managed to grasp the concept. He had to say, for all his bluster and hardass, John Winchester never lost sight of the original Agency mission statement of first do no harm. He never looted, never took what he didn’t have to, and while Sam came out of his agency years with more loot and tech than he knew what to do with, John just wanted to go home to his boys. Admirable, to be sure, but not a way to build a plan for retirement.
In fact, the way to build a plan for retirement from the Agency was to have your own version of a vortex manipulator, and a stash house in the twenty-first century. Or to be in middle management, but that really wasn’t all that appealing. John had neither, probably because he would never leave his sons for anything in the world. Sam would have helped him, if he had known, but he managed to get there too late.
He had to say, for all it’s losses, he very much liked 2009. The technology was archaic, but the women were beautiful, and really, at his age? That was what he cared about more than if computers were the size of a text book or a wrist watch. That, plus the impressive amount of money that he had managed to stack up for himself over the years, and he was set for life-more or less. The jury was still out on being Sam Winchester’s informant, though.
“You need a drink, Sammy,” he sighed, facing the bar as he hit blend on the blender. He could hear Sam trying to talk over the grinding ice and he just smirked before shouting. “Gonna have to talk a little louder than that, son. My hearing’s going. I’m gettin’ old.”
The blender finished grinding and Sam started pouring the glasses before the younger man spoke up again. “Yeah. The day you’re going deaf, I’ll run for president. And you know how I feel about people calling me Sammy.”
“Watch that,” Sam pointed, handing him one of the piña coladas. “I’m like family. You were named after me.” A total crock but an inside joke between him and John for as long as he could remember.
“Right. Because Mom was such a big fan of you.” The tone was dry, but affectionate at the same time, which was rare in terms of Sam as of late. It only came out with a mention of Dean, John or Mary. Only for family, the thing that the agency had decided to rob him of completely.
The smile on the older man’s face softened at the mention of Mary. Mary was probably the best thing that had ever happened to John, and it was a shame that they had lost her so early on. “Your mother adored me. Always did.”
“Sure she did,” Sam nodded, before taking a long sip of her drink, making a face at the strength. “Trying to kill me, Sam?”
“Hopefully before the ‘I need a favor’ comes out of your mouth,” he replied, before settling back in the lounge chair. Sam started to open his mouth, and the older man cut him off, holding up his hand. “And before you start with ‘can’t I see an old friend,’ you never liked me that much. Also, apparently, you’re an agent. There’s always an angle.” He’d done this job for forty plus years. He knew every move in the book.
The younger man took a breath, before nodding. “Any chance you have some kind of a vortex manipulation tracker in your bag of tricks?”
Sam’s eyebrows went up and he straightened slightly in his chair. “That’s some pretty heavy tech you’re looking for, Sammy. Illegal too.” More for the agency’s own purposes than anything else, but that wasn’t the point. Illegal was illegal, and as far as the youngest Winchester was concerned, he was still legal.
“Does that mean you don’t have it?”
The look on Sam’s face indicated that he highly doubted that it wasn’t in the ex-agent’s arsenal. His jaw clenched slightly, before pushing up and gesturing for the younger man to come with him. They made their way back into the house, and down to the basement, pushing a few buttons as the walls started to rearrange to reveal a thick, steel plated door. He paused to punch in the key code, before looking back. “You gonna tell me what this is about?”
As he opened his mouth, seeming like he was going to tow the party line, Sam just pulled him inside the safe, not in the mood to hear it. He waited until the door closed behind them, before crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Alright, Sammy, enough with the Agency crap. Tell me what’s going on.”
The agent stared him down for a long moment, before the hardened Time Agent started to fade and a bit more of the boy he used to know started to appear. He paused for a moment, running a hand over his face as he sat down in one of the nearby seats. “Dean’s alive.”
Sam almost dropped his drink. “What? You’ve seen him?”
“No, I haven’t but-” He took a breath, and Sam could see the wheels in his head turning. “-but I can feel it. He’s out there, somewhere, and I just need to find him. I need to know if he’s okay.”
The older man turned away from him, rubbing his jaw lightly. “There’s some things they don’t have to lie about, Sam.”
“They said he got hit by a goddamn train. Does that really sound like Dean to you?”
“Hey, it’s happened. Rift spits you out right when the headlights are bearing down-better agents have gone out that way.”
“Not Dean. Not. Dean. If my brother really was dead, I would know.”
Sam hesitated, and he could tell by the look in the agent’s eyes that the idea of his brother being alive was the only thing holding him together. And for all his need to be a realist, he couldn’t take that away from him. “So what do you need from me?”
The younger man took a breath, rubbing his thighs lightly as he pushed himself to his feet. “Do you think you can monitor those coming and going? Whether it’s by vortex manipulator or something bigger. And if someone familiar happens to slip through-”
“I give you a call. I can do that.”
“Thank you.” He pushed himself to his feet, before starting to head towards the door. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
Sam walked him to the door, and as he watched the man climb into his car, he took a breath and nodded. “Sammy, I think I have a pretty good idea.”
1181 words