a kind of dying, a kind of birth - SN fic - PG13
Title: a kind of dying, a kind of birth
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: the three you recognize aren’t mine. Title from Anne Sexton
Warnings: AU before pilot; mentions of child abuse
Pairings: OFC/Sam
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 3185
Point of view: third
Notes: written for
abouttwoboys; prompt was Where The Heart Is
More notes: just keep reading-Dean will show up!
Still more notes: thanks to
tru_faith_lostfor reading over this
Sam believed his life began when he met Madeline. He’d been newly fifteen, gangly and awkward; she’d been a worldly twenty-two and didn’t see him as just a boy. She looked at him and saw the man he’d be, the man she could spend her life with.
When he was with her, it took him away from the Wilkerson’s fake home where they had barely enough room for their blood children. Sam hated life with his foster family, especially the father, Steven. He felt no hesitation in taking his anger out on Sam, since they had no blood connection.
Madeline didn’t treat Sam like a burden. She didn’t look on him like an accident. She wanted him for him, and he’d never felt that since before the system.
They met at the neighborhood pool, Sam watching over Abby and Adam, Steven’s twin kids. The kids were sweet, since Steven never hurt them. Abby fell in the deep end and began splashing around, laughing at first, then screaming. Sam dove in and grabbed her, holding her above the water. Madeline was an off-duty lifeguard and took Abby from him, settling her on the concrete. Sam thanked her; after making sure Abby was okay, he picked up his foster-sister and took the twins home.
Steven flipped, of course, and led Sam to the basement. It was a major beating, the worst he’d yet received, and Steven left him there that night.
It was three weeks before Sam saw Madeline again and he didn’t recognize her. But she said, “Hey, you’re the guy who saved that girl” and he looked again-she was in jeans and a tight T-shirt instead of a bikini, her blonde hair loose instead of in a braid, and she wore make-up. She was beautiful.
She spoke quickly and fluidly, inviting him to join in-and he was in love. Within three days, he was already imagining forever.
After their third date, she took him home and took his virginity. After their fourth date, she told him that she wanted to go to Hollywood, where the modeling gigs would line up for her and set their future easily.
Two months in, Madeline told him she was pregnant. She didn’t seem happy, but Sam was ecstatic. He’d always been fascinated by children, and to think-he’d now have one of his very own, a little life that needed him.
Madeline sat him down on her couch and settled beside him, looking up at him with her big blue eyes.
“Sam,” she said. “Do we really want this baby?”
He was gobsmacked. “Of course we do, Maddy!”
She canted her head, studying him. “You want to the baby?”
Sam nodded earnestly, wrapping his arms around her. “Please, let me have this baby.”
Madeline reached up, threaded her fingers in his hair. “Okay, Sammy,” she said. “For you.”
In the following months, Sam spent as much time with Madeline as he could. He read every childcare book he got his hands on, saved money so he could provide for his lover and child.
He gave Steven no reason or opportunity to beat him, but watched the twins, analyzing their every move, seeing how children acted.
A few weeks after Sam’s sixteenth birthday, Madeline went into labor. Sam accompanied her to the hospital and never went back to the Wilkerson’s.
It was an easy, quick, uncomplicated birth and Madeline let Sam name their daughter: Cora Bethany. Madeline didn’t want to hold her, which the doctor said was normal. But Sam cradled his daughter, unable to look away from her, and knew that he loved her more than anything else in the entire world.
As soon as Madeline was physically able, she packed them up and had Sam drive them out of town. It took no convincing on Sam’s part: he would follow her to the ends of the Earth, as long as she had Cora. They left Miami and headed for Atlanta; Madeline had family there. She told Sam to stay with Cora in the motel room while she visited, and he was happy to do so.
All Cora did was eat, sleep, and poop so far, but Sam could watch her for hours admire her perfect little fingers and her perfect little toes, trace the gentle curve of her perfect little ear. He didn’t comprehend how Madeline never wanted to hold her, but he knew she’d come around eventually.
Madeline returned to the room just before dawn, smelling like alcohol. She collapsed onto the bed and slept till late afternoon. When she woke, she tackled Sam, barely giving him enough time to set Cora down.
“C’mon, Sammy,” she purred, tugging at his shirt. “You’re a guy-I know you always want it.”
“Madeline!” he said, horrified. “We can’t-not with Cora right there!”
She pouted. “Then put her outside. I wanna fuck!”
Their first argument followed and Madeline flounced out, again not coming back till dawn. She apologized and Sam forgave her, but he never left her alone with Cora again.
They left Georgia, Madeline driving. It was a tight fit, but Sam scrunched in the back next to Cora. He whispered stories to her, telling her what little he remembered of his life before the system. “We have family out there,” he said, gently rubbing his finger along her face. “They got lost somewhere, my dad and brother. But they loved me, I know that. I was small, not much older than you, but I fought when the system tore me away.”
Sam didn’t remember faces, or even names, but he knew they were out there. And he told Cora. When his scant memories failed, he moved on to history and myth, to fairy tales and nursery rhymes. He’d always loved telling stories.
In Kansas, they ran out of diapers. Madeline just wanted to drive through, ignoring the problem, but Sam demanded she stop at the next town.
She pulled up at a Wal-mart in Lawrence and they trooped in. Madeline made for the cosmetics while Sam tracked down the baby stuff. He jiggled Cora, holding her to his chest with one hand, searching for the best kind of diapers. She kept whimpering. His heart ached; she was miserable, his girl, completely miserable, and he couldn’t fix the situation quickly enough.
Finally he chose a brand and hurried to the bathroom, where he tore open the package and changed her diaper. It took a few moments but she calmed and he kissed the top of her head. “Feel better, sweetheart?” he asked. “Thank god.”
He swooped her back up and straightened the mess, then went searching for Madeline. He found her paying for blush and powder; “You check out,” she said. “I’ll bring the car around.”
Sam agreed. He went to the end of the line and when he exited the store with his purchase, Madeline wasn’t there. He waited, shushing Cora as she got hungry, and Madeline never arrived.
Wal-mart closed at ten. Sam had fifteen hundred in cash on him. He decided to spend the night in the store, so he hid in the bathroom. After all was quiet, he crept from the stall to the food and looked for baby formula. Cora was famished; he heated up her meal in the breakroom’s microwave and wandered around the store, feeding her. He cradled her to sleep, crooning lullabies, and held off on freaking out. He didn’t get tired, too nervous about being found and too pissed at Madeline.
He couldn’t believe she left him and their daughter, just drove away with all the supplies. For now the anger sustained him, kept him going. If he stopped to think, though… he was alone in a strange city with little money and a life fully dependent on him. And he was still just a kid himself-he’d never longed more for a family than in that moment, in a dark Wal-mart with a sleeping infant in his arms.
Sam hid them in the bathroom as the store opened and then ambled out. He had to think of a plan, something to do. Going back to Miami wasn’t an option. He’d never set foot there again. Hollywood, to find Madeline? He’d smack her across the face if he saw her anytime soon, and he bet that wouldn’t go over well.
He walked down the street to a McDonald’s; he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. He also needed to find a way to pay for the baby formula now digesting in Cora’s belly.
“Such a sweetheart!” a female voice cooed, the owner stepping in his path: she was short and dark, grinning bright enough to light a city. She peered at Cora, who was looking around wide-eyed. “How old is she?”
“Three weeks,” he answered in a daze.
“She’s just gorgeous.” The woman pulled back, looking up at him. “New to town?”
He nodded, glancing past her at the door, and his stomach growled.
“Ah, honey, I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “I’m keepin’ you from your meal.” She smiled at Cora again. “Take care of this angel and yourself, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and she bustled off. He watched her go, bemused, then hurried into McDonald’s.
At dusk, Sam returned to Wal-mart. He picked out two containers of formula and bought them, then left. He’d scouted out a motel during the day.
Cora hadn’t cried since Madeline left. Sam, long since fallen out of love with her, took that as a sign.
Sam got a room for dirt cheap, which didn’t bode well for cleanliness. By now he was exhausted, so he fed and burped Cora, then stretched out atop the blankets, placing Cora on his chest.
He needed to shower. How could he do that and still watch Cora? He hadn’t used the bathroom since Madeline left. It wasn’t an emergency yet, but that was another thing to worry about.
Cora depended solely on him, but he had to take care of himself, too. Sam placed one hand on Cora’s back, lightly rubbing circles. She was his whole world, and he was already letting her down, failing her.
“Hey, baby girl,” he whispered. “We’ll make it, I promise. I’ll give you a good life.”
He closed his eyes, trying to think of how to make his words true, and slipped into sleep.
Cora woke up hungry twice that night and Sam heated up her formula with the blow-dryer in the bathroom. She didn’t cry, just whimpered, which made Sam feel like the worst father in the world.
When he got up in the morning, Cora was still asleep so he placed her in the middle of the bed and hurriedly went about his business. Cora still slept when he went back out, so he decided to quickly bathe.
A part of him wanted to cry as the water streamed from the showerhead, to break down beneath the load. But the rest of him, the strength that let him survive Steven Wilkerson, refused. He had a life depending on him, his baby daughter. Even if he felt like a kid himself, he could not let her down, could not fail her. She needed him strong, capable.
He heard her sniffling as he toweled off, so he pulled his jeans back on-forgoing the underwear as too dirty-and rushed to her.
“I’m here, baby,” he said, scooping her up. He walked over to the table where he’d left the Wal-mart bag of formula. He heated it up some more in the bathroom and Cora paid attention this time, staring at the noise-maker with wide, fascinated eyes. She drank the lukewarm formula happily enough and Sam was relieved. She hadn’t shown much interest last night, so he’d worried.
“You wanna go to the park today?” he asked, putting her back on the bed so he could pull on his shirt. “I think you need some sun; it might make you feel better.”
Two weeks passed. Sam spent all of his money between Wal-mart, McDonald’s, and that same motel. He didn’t begin panicking until he was caught in the rain with no shelter. He wrapped his old, threadbare jacket around Cora, sheltering her in his arms. He’d been feeling sluggish for a few days, but at dawn, after being rained on all night, he realized he was in serious trouble.
He spent the day at the park, holding Cora away every time he coughed. His throat ached and his chest felt tight, and there was pressure building in his head. If he got Cora sick, he would never ever forgive himself.
Sam sat in the sun, feeding Cora cold formula he’d stolen from Wal-mart, hoping the heat would kill infection.
When he shivered all night long, huddled on a park bench around Cora, he knew it hadn’t worked and he needed to find help before he became completely incapacitated.
Sam thought it was Friday, but he couldn’t be sure. He walked, carrying his daughter. If he just kept walking, he’d be fine.
He was cold inside, shivering and shuddering. If he walked in the sunlight, he’d warm up-he would. He had to. Cora needed him.
“Hey, man, you alright?”
He thought he was falling. Someone grabbed his arm, reaching out for Cora.
“No,” he slurred. “She’s mine. Gotta look after her.” He peered up through his bangs, at tan skin and greenish eyes, bright light hurting his head even more.
A man looked down at him, supporting most of his weight. “Okay,” he said. “But let’s get you down on the ground ‘fore you fall, huh?” He lowered them slowly; Sam went with him, too exhausted and confused to fight.
“I’m Dean.”
Sam looked up at him, squinting against the bright sun. Dean. That hit a chord inside him, but everything seemed far away.
“Do you think you can let me hold her, there, kiddo?” Dean kept his voice soft, warm, and Sam wanted to thank him for it because it grounded him. “I’m not taking her away, but your grip don’t seem too steady.”
“Don’t keep her,” he said. “She’s mine.”
“I promise, dude. You’ll get her back.” Dean slowly and gently extracted Cora from Sam’s limp arms.
“Sam,” he said, hands falling to his sides. “M’name’s Sam.”
“Sam,” Dean repeated softly. “It’s nice to meet you. Stay with me, okay? This little beauty here needs you.”
He wanted to stay, he did, but he could trust the guy holding his daughter. Everything in his body told him so.
Sam’s eyes slid closed.
The air smelled clinically clean, not like the park. The blanket was rough on his skin.
“Back with us, baby?” a soft voice asked and he blinked, letting his eyes adjust.
The dark woman holding his daughter was familiar.
“I’m Missouri Moseley,” she said. “My son’s the boy that helped you at the park.”
The park. Where he’d fainted and let a stranger take his daughter.
“That was three days ago, honey,” she continued. “No one’s been by to check on you or this angel, even though your story’s run on the news.”
“Can I hold her?” he croaked, flinching at the sound.
Ms. Moseley smiled. “’course you can. She’s yours. Been cryin’ up a storm if we take her too far away.” She stood and leaned over him, arranging his arms around Cora. He felt weak and helpless. “You’re doin’ good,” Ms. Moseley told him. “Beatin’ back that flu you been workin’ on. A few more days to build up your strength and you’ll be able to go home.”
Sam stared down at Cora, his little angel blinking up at him. Home. Back to the streets.
“I’ll go tell Dr. Frederick you woke up,” Ms. Moseley said. “And someone from child services needs to talk to you as well, honey.”
His whole body tightened. “I won’t let those people take Cora,” he vowed. “Not ever.”
Ms. Moseley studied him, eyes sympathetic. “Do you have anywhere to go, Sam?”
He didn’t want to lie. “No’m.”
She nodded. “I figured as much. I have an extra room, warm food. You can stay with me, long as you need.”
He stared at her. “What?”
She smiled. “Don’t think I make a habit of collectin’ strays, boy. But I did it once before, and it’s the best decision I ever made.”
Sam’s mind whirled. “You’ll let me stay with you? But what if I’m a thief or killer?”
Ms. Moseley chuckled. “I know a thing or two about people, honey. You’re a thief only when you got no other option. With me, you won’t need to steal. And you’re no more a killer than I’m an Amazon princess.” She stood up and patted his arm. “Think about it, Sam. I’m goin’ get the doctor.”
Dr. Frederick assured Sam that Cora was completely healthy and that he could leave the hospital in a couple of days. The child services lady, though, asked Sam where his parents and Cora’s mother were.
Sam was alone with Mrs. Kaiser. Ms. Moseley had Cora out in the hall. “My parents are gone,” Sam told her, looking at his hands. “Madeline-Cora’s mom-left us. She never wanted Cora; I do.”
“You’re a bit young to be taking care of a baby, Sam,” Mrs. Kaiser said gently. “You don’t have money or a home. Don’t you think your daughter would be better off with a family?”
Sam’s hands tightened into fists. “I was in the system, ma’am.” His voice was soft and he strained to keep his temper. “It was Hell. I had one good home in ten years, and then I was taken from there because they had too many kids.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “My daughter will never go in the system.”
Mrs. Kaiser sighed. “You need a steady supply of money, Sam. A roof over your head. Raising a child is hard work. You’re still just a kid yourself, Sam.”
He nodded. “I know. But Ms. Moseley’s invited me to live with her. I’ll go back to school and get a job after I graduate. Would you be happy with that?”
After a moment, Mrs. Kaiser said, “I’ll talk to her.”
Ms. Moseley and Mrs. Kaiser worked out the details while Sam slept. He woke up to Dean in the chair next to his bed, softly singing to Cora.
“So I hear you’re comin’ live with us, Sammy,” Dean said, glancing up.
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Are you okay with that?”
Dean traced his finger lightly along Cora’s jaw. “Before Mom took me in, I had a brother. I don’t remember what happened to him, or the rest of my family.” He looked back at Sam, hazel eyes warm. “His name was Sam, too. That, I do remember.” He stared at Sam for a moment before smiling. “I’ve missed havin’ a brother.”
Sam smiled, too, and then asked, “Think I could hold my daughter?”
Dean chuckled. “I dunno, dude. She likes me. She might not want you back.”
Sam just looked at him, with one eyebrow raised, letting a faint pout suffuse his features. Dean laughed before handing her over.