Losing Sam, Arc 3.6, Supernatural, Keeper!Verse, R
Fandom: Supernatural, Keeper!Verse
Title: Losing Sam, Arc 3.6 (All Keeper Verse Here, including Arcs 1 & 2)
Rating: R
Word Count: 37,625 (total arc)
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (long term established wincest), John, Dana (Dean's daughter) Missouri, OFC & OMC
Summary: Dean suffers the cosequences of his actions, Dana discovers what her father has done and Ally comes to John with a request.
A/Ns & Warnings: This story pics up after arc 2 as written by shotofjack. It would never have happened without her. From the original concept to her beta, this fic owes a good amount to her. Expect a chapter a day until it is finished. Also, you might want to make sure you have Kleenex nearby. There's a bittersweet schloompiness to this chapter. In fact, it was this chapter that got me all excited about writing this thing all together.
This is strange. Sam was very aware of his body, of the fascination he had developed for some shiny thing Ally had given him…and yet he was aware of being separate, distant.
Relax, Samuel. It is a part of the process.
His body felt better, strong, whole. He couldn’t speak yet, only make sounds that vaguely expressed his feelings. There was anger and happy and hungry and something he hadn’t quite figured out.
He rolled onto his back on the mattress, holding a spoon above him, putting his feet up to stick it between his toes. He laughed, his whole body wriggling to the sound. Delight rolled through him, filling up everything outside the walls that contained him.
He tossed the spoon then, landing it in Ally’s lap. She smiled. “Very good Samuel. Your control improves.”
It startled him a little to realize he had guided the spoon. The power to propel it came from the throw, but he had guided it to her with his mind. He gurgled and laughed and reached for her.
Remember now.
Sam pulled back a little as her hand descended onto his head and the walls that separated him from himself thinned. She controlled the flow of memories, images that were not as happy as the first bunch she had given back to him.
Not-Mom and Not-Daddy. No brother telling silly stories. There was a dark room. A crib that felt like a cage. Scary things in the corners. He cried and rolled away from her, his hands covering his face.
Stop.
Sam watched helplessly from inside himself as he cried for Daddy. There was an understanding that Mom was gone, that only Daddy could come for him…and that Daddy wasn’t coming.
John was restless. He fished. He hiked up to the edges of the boundaries and back to camp. He chopped wood. He read the book he brought along. Once or twice, he checked his cell phone for a signal.
He hiked down to the main road and got one, then couldn’t decide who to call. He dialed Dean’s number and it dumped him to voicemail.
He didn’t know what to say so he hung up and dialed Dana’s number instead. He got her voicemail too. “Check on your old man. He’s not answering his phone.” He hung up and headed back to camp.
John Winchester wasn’t a man who was good at waiting. Still, he sat in his chair and he waited.
Dana glanced at her phone and hit the “ignore” button. She didn’t need her Papa to call and tell her something was wrong. She was nearly to the house. She’d woken up in the middle of the night, sweaty and scared. She couldn’t place it…but she didn’t sleep, and she would have been home before now if she hadn’t been barricaded in by arriving students.
She pulled into the driveway. The whole house felt wrong…dark and nasty. For a second she was afraid that the thing had come back for Sam, and found only her father. She swallowed the panic and let herself in.
Aristotle barked at her from the top of the stairs, Remmy appearing between her legs and barking too. “Dad?”
There was an empty paper bag on the table, and a receipt from the occult store on the other side of town. That didn’t bode well. She called out again, scanning for him. The smell of sulfur drifted down the stairs…sulfur and something else, like burnt flesh.
She raced up the stairs, her heart in her throat. He was alive, she could feel him. “Dad!” His bedroom door was locked. Aristotle whined and scratched at the door. “Open the door.”
“Go away.” Dean’s voice was ragged, dark.
“Like hell. What did you do?”
Aristotle went to the open door to Sam’s bedroom, barking. Dana followed. It looked like a hurricane had hit the place. There were books everywhere, Sam’s trunk over turned. “Fuck. What did he do?”
She went back to his door and pounded on it. She could hear him groan. “I’m coming in.” She flicked the lock with a thought and pushed open the door.
He was barely standing and trying to pack a bag with clothes. All around him was the detritus of major spell working. He’d pulled up the carpet and drawn chalk symbols on the floor. The bed was pushed against the wall, the window open to let the stench out, though it seemed to be clinging to the room anyway.
“What the fuck did you do?”
Dean scowled at her. She moved closer. Both of his forearms were bandaged. Poorly. He looked like he’d been rolled over by a semi. “Shit. Dad.”
He raised a hand to silence her, then lost his balance and collapsed to the floor. “Found the fucker. Gonna end it.” He dragged himself up and she reached to help him.
“You’re not going anywhere but to bed.”
He yanked his arm away. “Fuck you. I’m your father. I do what I want.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped back, letting him fall back on his ass. “Fine.”
She stepped out the room and leaned over the railing, calling his car keys to her hand. She pocketed them and leaned in the doorway. “You going to tell me what you did?”
He was covering his eyes and moaning. “Blowback’s a bitch, it must have been pretty bad.” Her eyes spotted the corner of the book peeking out from under the dresser. She crossed to it, squatting next to it as Remmy finally found his way around the circle drawn on the floor and wriggled his butt into Dean’s lap.
Her eyes scanned the marked page, then flicked to her father. “Did you do this spell? Dad.” He groaned. She was losing patience. “Answer me. Did you do this spell?”
He nodded slowly and she exhaled her held breath. “You found something it left behind?” Again, the slow nod. She skimmed through the spell. He must feel like shit. This level of spell work would kick the ass of a skilled practitioner, and he was less than an amateur. “Fuck, Dad. You should have called me.”
He lifted his head, but all she could see was the pain etched on his face. She wanted to be angry, to lecture him, but she couldn’t, not when it was obvious he was really hurting…and from more than just the blowback. She sighed and went to him. “Let’s get you into bed.”
“No. I’m going.”
“We’re going. After the blowback passes. You’re no good to me on a hunt if you can’t even stand up.”
The fight seemed to leave him and he let her help him up and onto the bed. Remmy followed, curling into a ball beside him. “Did you find out what it was?” Dana asked as she pulled a blanket up over him.
Dean’s face scrunched up. “Must have screwed something up…” He pointed toward the end of the bed. The compendium lay there and she picked it up, paging through it.
She stopped when she found the scorch mark, frowning into the book. “Why would something like this come after Sam?”
Her father’s eyes were closed though and he was nearly asleep. She shook her head and went into the bathroom to get something to deepen his sleep enough to shake off the blowback. Although judging just from a casual reading of the spell, it was going to be at least forty-eight hours before her father would be on his feet.
He hadn’t quite mastered the stairs, but found he could go down them on his butt, bump-bump-bumping until his long legs hit the wood floor at the bottom. He giggled when Inda looked up at him, his face surprised.
“Ally, our prodigy has found his way down the stairs.”
“Ally!” Sam reached arms up and she came out of the kitchen to hug him and help him stand.
“Are you hungry, Samuel?”
He bit his lip and nodded. “Hungry.”
Ally held his hand and led him into the kitchen, holding the chair while he sat. Inda joined them as Ally served lunch. She gave Sam a sippy cup with milk in it. He drank half of it and put the cup down. “Where’s my Daddy, Ally?”
She turned and looked at him, then at Inda. “He’s waiting for you to get better Samuel.”
“Was I bad?” He frowned at the plate she put in front of him.
Ally sat beside him and took his hand. “You have done well.”
He made a face at her. “They took me away.” He frowned, concentrating on the memory. “Was I bad?”
“No Samuel, you were not taken away because you were bad.” Inda said. “You should eat your lunch. Our afternoon work will be difficult.”
Sam scrunched his nose and picked up his sandwich. “Don’t like work.”
“It will make you better.” Ally replied, biting into her own sandwich.
“Then I can see my Daddy?” Sam asked.
“Yes, Samuel, then you can see your Daddy.”
Dana took a deep breath and let herself into her father’s room. She’d managed to get things cleaned up and sort of back to normal, but the stink permeated the whole house. She’d taken the dogs for a walk, made dinner, and did a little research.
Now, she just had to get her father to a place where he could actually hunt. Even if she still wasn’t sure what they were hunting. Her father was awake, she could tell, even though his eyes were closed.
“I brought you some sunglasses. They should help.” She set the tray with its chicken broth and crackers on the bed and put the sunglasses in his hand. He slipped them on. “I can give you some aspirin, but trust me, it won’t help.” She helped him sit up and handed him the cup of broth. “Let’s try this first. See if you can keep it down.” From her own recent bout with blowback, she remembered that, even the thought of food, had been nauseating.
Dana sat on the end of the bed with the compendium trying to reconcile what had happened to Sam with the thing in the book.
Supernatural, but not evil. Kind of the opposite of evil, actually. What some called an angel. A creature of purity, of salvation. Something that acted the opposite of demons, helped people. Influenced them toward goodness.
She’d researched the spell, the bits and components and its expected outcome. If her father had gotten an actual location, then he’d done it right.
Which meant that an angel had tried to kill Sam.
Which didn’t make any sense.
“So, where is it?” Dana asked suddenly, turning to her father.
“Nebraska.” He said, not looking up from the broth.
“That’s all you got?”
He sighed. He rubbed the bandage on his right hand on the bed. She stood and grabbed the hand.
“Dana…” His voice was dark with warning, but she pulled on the tape and slid the bandage down.
She gasped at the sight of the red, angry flesh. Cedar St., Lexington, Nebraska. Three lines, carved into the flesh of his arm. “Fuck.”
She dropped the arm and rubbed her forehead. She had to find out how to kill an angel…or if they could…or should.
“Get some rest Dad. We’ll leave in the morning.”
When he was like this, still, settled, he was aware of the two parts of himself. Inda guided him through an exercise, mentally following the path of a bird above him. He followed it until it reached a barrier. He couldn’t see past that barrier.
It is to protect you. Ally’s voice said inside him.
He slid along it, feeling it, following it down to the ground. There was someone there. Someone just outside it. He followed as that person paced around.
Enough for now, Samuel. We shall continue this exercise later.
Inda pulled out and it was just him and Ally. She guided him to the silvery blob, held the space around it as he poked it, feeling the warmth flood him, feeling it replacing what he’d expended on the exercise.
He was only a little out of breath as he came up and opened his eyes. “I saw a man.”
Inda nodded. “Yes, he was near the barrier.”
Sam tilted his head. “He’s a good man.”
Ally smiled. “Yes, I do believe he is.”
He stretched and yawned.
“Are you ready to remember?” Ally asked.
Sam stiffened a little. “Why do I have to? I don’t like it. I was scared.”
Her hand was warm and gentle on his. “You must grow, Samuel, and know the person that you are. This is why you are here.”
“Maybe I don’t want to know. I just want to be Samuel.”
“Perhaps, but perhaps Samuel is not all that you are.”
He pouted, but he knew it wouldn’t stop her. He tried to pull away, but she wrapped around him. She would release the memories ands would leave him sleeping to adjust to them.
“Too fucking old for this shit.” John muttered, dragging himself out of his sleeping bag and running a hand through his hair. It had been nearly a week and camping had never been his favorite thing. The tent was cold, the heater had obviously conked out somewhere through the night. He shoved his feet into his boots and stood.
He smelled coffee and wood burning. He opened the tent cautiously only to find Ally sitting quietly beside the fire. “Good morning Mr. Winchester.”
“Call me John.” He stepped through the opening and crossed to the fire, holding his hands over it to warm himself.
“As you wish, John.”
“You made me coffee?”
“It seemed a nicety.” She inclined her head to him.
She had a way of putting him off balance. Not many people could do that.
“Well, thank you.” He poured himself a cup and suppressed a shiver. “How’s Sam?”
She frowned slightly. “Precocious. He insists on progressing faster than I would like, and yet he resists some of the instruction that would make the progress easier on him.”
John nodded with a chuckle. “Sounds like Sam.” He sipped at the coffee, surprised to find it strong and good.
“He asks for you.”
She said it so casually and yet it broke him. He turned his back to her to hide the tear that escaped before he could rein it in.
“We would like to see how interaction with you can help us to slow him. Would you be willing to father him?”
John turned around quickly, nodding and spilling coffee. “Of course. I-I want to see him.”
“He approaches the emotional maturity of an eight year old. Will you be able to handle that?”
Sam at eight. “What will he remember?”
“He has been given those memories, from the year he was seven and then eight. They are not pleasant memories.”
“Will he know me?”
She looked at him, her eyes sharp, gauging his reactions. “He seems to have a strong recall of you.”
Sam at eight was punished with a dark closet and demons that chewed on him. “When?”
“After his morning session. Come to the second barrier. We will bring him to you.” She stood. “You will have several hours, and then you will bring him back. We wish to try to keep him at this stage for a day or two, to slow him down and help him truly accept his gifts. He must acclimate or risk it all falling apart again later in life.”
John nodded. “What of his gifts?”
“He is pre-pubescent, and the advent of puberty generally brings them to fruition, however his gifts are powerful. He has full access to the healing power. He has some use of the gift to read energy around him and rudimentary mind reading. He is not entirely aware he does it yet.”
John nodded again. “I’ll be there.”
They didn’t tell him where they were going. Sam watched all around them as they walked, Ally on one side, Inda on the other. It was a beautiful day and he was excited about the birds singing in the trees. In all the time he’d been there, which he didn’t really know how long that had been, he hadn’t been away from the little house.
They passed through an archway and Sam shivered. He stopped and looked at the stone. “What is it Samuel?” Ally asked, watching him.
He looked at the stone. “It feels funny.”
“It is enchanted.” Inda said. “It projects an image outward to those who do not know it is there.”
Sam nodded and touched the stone. “It is very strong.”
“Come, Samuel, we are not at our destination yet.”
“Where are we going?” He asked, even though they hadn’t answered him the last three times he asked.
“You will see when we get there.”
Ally slipped her hand into his and Sam smiled. “When will we get there?”
“Sooner if you pick up your feet.” Inda said, taking his other hand.
John paced outside the barrier. It seemed thinner than the last time he’d been here. He chewed on his fingernails, then on his lip. He was nervous. Which was ridiculous. This was Sam. His son.
He worked at calming his racing heart.
There were shadows approaching. He held his breath as the barrier thinned further. Ally stepped through first, inclining her head in greeting. A man came next, similarly dressed, similarly bald. He also inclined his head. Together, they encouraged another through.
Sam.
He held their hands, his eyes wide, looking around him, then coming to rest on John. He blushed and looked quickly to Ally, clinging tightly to the man, almost hiding behind him.
“I am Inda,” the man offered.
“John.”
“Samuel, do you know who this man is?” Ally asked.
Sam dropped his eyes to the ground, suddenly shy and uncertain. His toe dragged in the dirt. He nodded, glancing up at John, then quickly away.
“He’s my Daddy.” Sam said, his voice small and child-like.
John dragged in a breath and blinked at the tears that sprang unbidden to his eyes. “Yes, Sam. I am your Daddy.”
Sam looked at him, blinking himself.
“Would you like to spend some time with your Daddy?” Ally asked.
He looked up at Inda as if expecting him to say no. “Can I?”
Inda smiled at him. “Of course Samuel. That is why we came here.”
Sam nodded slowly. Inda raised their joined hands toward John. Sam licked his lips and looked at John.
Inda put Sam’s hand in his and John smiled through his tears as Sam stepped closer. “We will be here at sundown to take him back.”
“Yeah, okay.” John said, though his eyes never left Sam.
Inda and Ally both stepped back, slipping back behind the barrier.
Sam hesitated, looking at the place where they had disappeared, then at John. “Would you like to go for a walk? I saw a stream a ways that way.”
“Okay.” Sam held to his hand as they walked. John concentrated on breathing, on not scaring him with the intensity of the emotion welling in his chest.
As they neared the stream, Sam pointed. “Frog!” He let go of John’s hand and chased after the frog, leaping through mud and water with absolute abandon. Finally he caught the frog and tore back. “Look, Daddy! It’s a frog.”
John laughed. “It sure is Sam.”
“Ew! He peed on me!”
“You probably scared him to death. Why don’t you let him go?”
Almost too gentle to be real, Sam put the frog on the ground and patted its head. “I’m sorry little frog. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He grinned up at John, big wide smile that sparkled with joy. John grinned back. He’d never seen Sam so happy, such unqualified happiness. “I wish Dean could see you.”
Sam stood up, and John shook his head. It was easy to forget he was a man when he was squatting on the ground. “Dean is my brother.” Sam said, like he was feeling out the words, testing them for reality. “The one from before I went away.”
John nodded, his throat constricting. “Yes.”
Sam cocked his head. “Ally told me I wasn’t bad.”
“No, Son, you’re not bad.”
He shook his head. “Not what I meant. Before. I was taken away, to a bad place. I thought it was because I was bad.”
John closed his eyes. It was hard to breathe. He shook his head. “No, Sam…you weren’t taken because you were bad.”
“Are you crying Daddy?”
John wiped his cheeks. “Maybe a little Sammy.”
“Did I hurt you? Did I hurt your heart?”
His face was so open and sincere. John felt himself crack open…felt every moment when he’d distrusted Sam flush him with guilt. “No, Sammy. I’m crying because I’m very happy that I get to spend this time with you.”
“I remember when I was really little, like six, I asked about you all the time. He wanted me to call him Dad and I told him no, that he wasn’t my Daddy and I knew it.” His face clouded up and he turned away. “When I’d say it, he’d punish me.”
He wanted to wrap his arms around Sam and never let go. “I’d give anything to keep you from remembering him at all.”
“Ally says it’s part of who I am so I have to remember.” He threw a stone into the water.
“Ally is pretty smart.”
Sam nodded and picked up another stone. “I know I’m big, and I know I’m here because something bad happened. Sometimes when we’re working I feel like me…sometimes I feel like him.”
“Him?”
He nodded, skipping the stone downstream. “The man. He’s me, but not.” He stopped and looked at John. “Like this is me, but not me. Because me when I was this old for real, I didn’t have you…and it was not nice like here. I think I like here better. I like you better.”
“I love you Sam.” He couldn’t have stopped himself from saying it, even knowing how uncomfortable it usually made Sam to hear it.
Sam grinned and threw his arms around John. “I love you too Daddy!”
Title: Losing Sam, Arc 3.6 (All Keeper Verse Here, including Arcs 1 & 2)
Rating: R
Word Count: 37,625 (total arc)
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (long term established wincest), John, Dana (Dean's daughter) Missouri, OFC & OMC
Summary: Dean suffers the cosequences of his actions, Dana discovers what her father has done and Ally comes to John with a request.
A/Ns & Warnings: This story pics up after arc 2 as written by shotofjack. It would never have happened without her. From the original concept to her beta, this fic owes a good amount to her. Expect a chapter a day until it is finished. Also, you might want to make sure you have Kleenex nearby. There's a bittersweet schloompiness to this chapter. In fact, it was this chapter that got me all excited about writing this thing all together.
This is strange. Sam was very aware of his body, of the fascination he had developed for some shiny thing Ally had given him…and yet he was aware of being separate, distant.
Relax, Samuel. It is a part of the process.
His body felt better, strong, whole. He couldn’t speak yet, only make sounds that vaguely expressed his feelings. There was anger and happy and hungry and something he hadn’t quite figured out.
He rolled onto his back on the mattress, holding a spoon above him, putting his feet up to stick it between his toes. He laughed, his whole body wriggling to the sound. Delight rolled through him, filling up everything outside the walls that contained him.
He tossed the spoon then, landing it in Ally’s lap. She smiled. “Very good Samuel. Your control improves.”
It startled him a little to realize he had guided the spoon. The power to propel it came from the throw, but he had guided it to her with his mind. He gurgled and laughed and reached for her.
Remember now.
Sam pulled back a little as her hand descended onto his head and the walls that separated him from himself thinned. She controlled the flow of memories, images that were not as happy as the first bunch she had given back to him.
Not-Mom and Not-Daddy. No brother telling silly stories. There was a dark room. A crib that felt like a cage. Scary things in the corners. He cried and rolled away from her, his hands covering his face.
Stop.
Sam watched helplessly from inside himself as he cried for Daddy. There was an understanding that Mom was gone, that only Daddy could come for him…and that Daddy wasn’t coming.
John was restless. He fished. He hiked up to the edges of the boundaries and back to camp. He chopped wood. He read the book he brought along. Once or twice, he checked his cell phone for a signal.
He hiked down to the main road and got one, then couldn’t decide who to call. He dialed Dean’s number and it dumped him to voicemail.
He didn’t know what to say so he hung up and dialed Dana’s number instead. He got her voicemail too. “Check on your old man. He’s not answering his phone.” He hung up and headed back to camp.
John Winchester wasn’t a man who was good at waiting. Still, he sat in his chair and he waited.
Dana glanced at her phone and hit the “ignore” button. She didn’t need her Papa to call and tell her something was wrong. She was nearly to the house. She’d woken up in the middle of the night, sweaty and scared. She couldn’t place it…but she didn’t sleep, and she would have been home before now if she hadn’t been barricaded in by arriving students.
She pulled into the driveway. The whole house felt wrong…dark and nasty. For a second she was afraid that the thing had come back for Sam, and found only her father. She swallowed the panic and let herself in.
Aristotle barked at her from the top of the stairs, Remmy appearing between her legs and barking too. “Dad?”
There was an empty paper bag on the table, and a receipt from the occult store on the other side of town. That didn’t bode well. She called out again, scanning for him. The smell of sulfur drifted down the stairs…sulfur and something else, like burnt flesh.
She raced up the stairs, her heart in her throat. He was alive, she could feel him. “Dad!” His bedroom door was locked. Aristotle whined and scratched at the door. “Open the door.”
“Go away.” Dean’s voice was ragged, dark.
“Like hell. What did you do?”
Aristotle went to the open door to Sam’s bedroom, barking. Dana followed. It looked like a hurricane had hit the place. There were books everywhere, Sam’s trunk over turned. “Fuck. What did he do?”
She went back to his door and pounded on it. She could hear him groan. “I’m coming in.” She flicked the lock with a thought and pushed open the door.
He was barely standing and trying to pack a bag with clothes. All around him was the detritus of major spell working. He’d pulled up the carpet and drawn chalk symbols on the floor. The bed was pushed against the wall, the window open to let the stench out, though it seemed to be clinging to the room anyway.
“What the fuck did you do?”
Dean scowled at her. She moved closer. Both of his forearms were bandaged. Poorly. He looked like he’d been rolled over by a semi. “Shit. Dad.”
He raised a hand to silence her, then lost his balance and collapsed to the floor. “Found the fucker. Gonna end it.” He dragged himself up and she reached to help him.
“You’re not going anywhere but to bed.”
He yanked his arm away. “Fuck you. I’m your father. I do what I want.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped back, letting him fall back on his ass. “Fine.”
She stepped out the room and leaned over the railing, calling his car keys to her hand. She pocketed them and leaned in the doorway. “You going to tell me what you did?”
He was covering his eyes and moaning. “Blowback’s a bitch, it must have been pretty bad.” Her eyes spotted the corner of the book peeking out from under the dresser. She crossed to it, squatting next to it as Remmy finally found his way around the circle drawn on the floor and wriggled his butt into Dean’s lap.
Her eyes scanned the marked page, then flicked to her father. “Did you do this spell? Dad.” He groaned. She was losing patience. “Answer me. Did you do this spell?”
He nodded slowly and she exhaled her held breath. “You found something it left behind?” Again, the slow nod. She skimmed through the spell. He must feel like shit. This level of spell work would kick the ass of a skilled practitioner, and he was less than an amateur. “Fuck, Dad. You should have called me.”
He lifted his head, but all she could see was the pain etched on his face. She wanted to be angry, to lecture him, but she couldn’t, not when it was obvious he was really hurting…and from more than just the blowback. She sighed and went to him. “Let’s get you into bed.”
“No. I’m going.”
“We’re going. After the blowback passes. You’re no good to me on a hunt if you can’t even stand up.”
The fight seemed to leave him and he let her help him up and onto the bed. Remmy followed, curling into a ball beside him. “Did you find out what it was?” Dana asked as she pulled a blanket up over him.
Dean’s face scrunched up. “Must have screwed something up…” He pointed toward the end of the bed. The compendium lay there and she picked it up, paging through it.
She stopped when she found the scorch mark, frowning into the book. “Why would something like this come after Sam?”
Her father’s eyes were closed though and he was nearly asleep. She shook her head and went into the bathroom to get something to deepen his sleep enough to shake off the blowback. Although judging just from a casual reading of the spell, it was going to be at least forty-eight hours before her father would be on his feet.
He hadn’t quite mastered the stairs, but found he could go down them on his butt, bump-bump-bumping until his long legs hit the wood floor at the bottom. He giggled when Inda looked up at him, his face surprised.
“Ally, our prodigy has found his way down the stairs.”
“Ally!” Sam reached arms up and she came out of the kitchen to hug him and help him stand.
“Are you hungry, Samuel?”
He bit his lip and nodded. “Hungry.”
Ally held his hand and led him into the kitchen, holding the chair while he sat. Inda joined them as Ally served lunch. She gave Sam a sippy cup with milk in it. He drank half of it and put the cup down. “Where’s my Daddy, Ally?”
She turned and looked at him, then at Inda. “He’s waiting for you to get better Samuel.”
“Was I bad?” He frowned at the plate she put in front of him.
Ally sat beside him and took his hand. “You have done well.”
He made a face at her. “They took me away.” He frowned, concentrating on the memory. “Was I bad?”
“No Samuel, you were not taken away because you were bad.” Inda said. “You should eat your lunch. Our afternoon work will be difficult.”
Sam scrunched his nose and picked up his sandwich. “Don’t like work.”
“It will make you better.” Ally replied, biting into her own sandwich.
“Then I can see my Daddy?” Sam asked.
“Yes, Samuel, then you can see your Daddy.”
Dana took a deep breath and let herself into her father’s room. She’d managed to get things cleaned up and sort of back to normal, but the stink permeated the whole house. She’d taken the dogs for a walk, made dinner, and did a little research.
Now, she just had to get her father to a place where he could actually hunt. Even if she still wasn’t sure what they were hunting. Her father was awake, she could tell, even though his eyes were closed.
“I brought you some sunglasses. They should help.” She set the tray with its chicken broth and crackers on the bed and put the sunglasses in his hand. He slipped them on. “I can give you some aspirin, but trust me, it won’t help.” She helped him sit up and handed him the cup of broth. “Let’s try this first. See if you can keep it down.” From her own recent bout with blowback, she remembered that, even the thought of food, had been nauseating.
Dana sat on the end of the bed with the compendium trying to reconcile what had happened to Sam with the thing in the book.
Supernatural, but not evil. Kind of the opposite of evil, actually. What some called an angel. A creature of purity, of salvation. Something that acted the opposite of demons, helped people. Influenced them toward goodness.
She’d researched the spell, the bits and components and its expected outcome. If her father had gotten an actual location, then he’d done it right.
Which meant that an angel had tried to kill Sam.
Which didn’t make any sense.
“So, where is it?” Dana asked suddenly, turning to her father.
“Nebraska.” He said, not looking up from the broth.
“That’s all you got?”
He sighed. He rubbed the bandage on his right hand on the bed. She stood and grabbed the hand.
“Dana…” His voice was dark with warning, but she pulled on the tape and slid the bandage down.
She gasped at the sight of the red, angry flesh. Cedar St., Lexington, Nebraska. Three lines, carved into the flesh of his arm. “Fuck.”
She dropped the arm and rubbed her forehead. She had to find out how to kill an angel…or if they could…or should.
“Get some rest Dad. We’ll leave in the morning.”
When he was like this, still, settled, he was aware of the two parts of himself. Inda guided him through an exercise, mentally following the path of a bird above him. He followed it until it reached a barrier. He couldn’t see past that barrier.
It is to protect you. Ally’s voice said inside him.
He slid along it, feeling it, following it down to the ground. There was someone there. Someone just outside it. He followed as that person paced around.
Enough for now, Samuel. We shall continue this exercise later.
Inda pulled out and it was just him and Ally. She guided him to the silvery blob, held the space around it as he poked it, feeling the warmth flood him, feeling it replacing what he’d expended on the exercise.
He was only a little out of breath as he came up and opened his eyes. “I saw a man.”
Inda nodded. “Yes, he was near the barrier.”
Sam tilted his head. “He’s a good man.”
Ally smiled. “Yes, I do believe he is.”
He stretched and yawned.
“Are you ready to remember?” Ally asked.
Sam stiffened a little. “Why do I have to? I don’t like it. I was scared.”
Her hand was warm and gentle on his. “You must grow, Samuel, and know the person that you are. This is why you are here.”
“Maybe I don’t want to know. I just want to be Samuel.”
“Perhaps, but perhaps Samuel is not all that you are.”
He pouted, but he knew it wouldn’t stop her. He tried to pull away, but she wrapped around him. She would release the memories ands would leave him sleeping to adjust to them.
“Too fucking old for this shit.” John muttered, dragging himself out of his sleeping bag and running a hand through his hair. It had been nearly a week and camping had never been his favorite thing. The tent was cold, the heater had obviously conked out somewhere through the night. He shoved his feet into his boots and stood.
He smelled coffee and wood burning. He opened the tent cautiously only to find Ally sitting quietly beside the fire. “Good morning Mr. Winchester.”
“Call me John.” He stepped through the opening and crossed to the fire, holding his hands over it to warm himself.
“As you wish, John.”
“You made me coffee?”
“It seemed a nicety.” She inclined her head to him.
She had a way of putting him off balance. Not many people could do that.
“Well, thank you.” He poured himself a cup and suppressed a shiver. “How’s Sam?”
She frowned slightly. “Precocious. He insists on progressing faster than I would like, and yet he resists some of the instruction that would make the progress easier on him.”
John nodded with a chuckle. “Sounds like Sam.” He sipped at the coffee, surprised to find it strong and good.
“He asks for you.”
She said it so casually and yet it broke him. He turned his back to her to hide the tear that escaped before he could rein it in.
“We would like to see how interaction with you can help us to slow him. Would you be willing to father him?”
John turned around quickly, nodding and spilling coffee. “Of course. I-I want to see him.”
“He approaches the emotional maturity of an eight year old. Will you be able to handle that?”
Sam at eight. “What will he remember?”
“He has been given those memories, from the year he was seven and then eight. They are not pleasant memories.”
“Will he know me?”
She looked at him, her eyes sharp, gauging his reactions. “He seems to have a strong recall of you.”
Sam at eight was punished with a dark closet and demons that chewed on him. “When?”
“After his morning session. Come to the second barrier. We will bring him to you.” She stood. “You will have several hours, and then you will bring him back. We wish to try to keep him at this stage for a day or two, to slow him down and help him truly accept his gifts. He must acclimate or risk it all falling apart again later in life.”
John nodded. “What of his gifts?”
“He is pre-pubescent, and the advent of puberty generally brings them to fruition, however his gifts are powerful. He has full access to the healing power. He has some use of the gift to read energy around him and rudimentary mind reading. He is not entirely aware he does it yet.”
John nodded again. “I’ll be there.”
They didn’t tell him where they were going. Sam watched all around them as they walked, Ally on one side, Inda on the other. It was a beautiful day and he was excited about the birds singing in the trees. In all the time he’d been there, which he didn’t really know how long that had been, he hadn’t been away from the little house.
They passed through an archway and Sam shivered. He stopped and looked at the stone. “What is it Samuel?” Ally asked, watching him.
He looked at the stone. “It feels funny.”
“It is enchanted.” Inda said. “It projects an image outward to those who do not know it is there.”
Sam nodded and touched the stone. “It is very strong.”
“Come, Samuel, we are not at our destination yet.”
“Where are we going?” He asked, even though they hadn’t answered him the last three times he asked.
“You will see when we get there.”
Ally slipped her hand into his and Sam smiled. “When will we get there?”
“Sooner if you pick up your feet.” Inda said, taking his other hand.
John paced outside the barrier. It seemed thinner than the last time he’d been here. He chewed on his fingernails, then on his lip. He was nervous. Which was ridiculous. This was Sam. His son.
He worked at calming his racing heart.
There were shadows approaching. He held his breath as the barrier thinned further. Ally stepped through first, inclining her head in greeting. A man came next, similarly dressed, similarly bald. He also inclined his head. Together, they encouraged another through.
Sam.
He held their hands, his eyes wide, looking around him, then coming to rest on John. He blushed and looked quickly to Ally, clinging tightly to the man, almost hiding behind him.
“I am Inda,” the man offered.
“John.”
“Samuel, do you know who this man is?” Ally asked.
Sam dropped his eyes to the ground, suddenly shy and uncertain. His toe dragged in the dirt. He nodded, glancing up at John, then quickly away.
“He’s my Daddy.” Sam said, his voice small and child-like.
John dragged in a breath and blinked at the tears that sprang unbidden to his eyes. “Yes, Sam. I am your Daddy.”
Sam looked at him, blinking himself.
“Would you like to spend some time with your Daddy?” Ally asked.
He looked up at Inda as if expecting him to say no. “Can I?”
Inda smiled at him. “Of course Samuel. That is why we came here.”
Sam nodded slowly. Inda raised their joined hands toward John. Sam licked his lips and looked at John.
Inda put Sam’s hand in his and John smiled through his tears as Sam stepped closer. “We will be here at sundown to take him back.”
“Yeah, okay.” John said, though his eyes never left Sam.
Inda and Ally both stepped back, slipping back behind the barrier.
Sam hesitated, looking at the place where they had disappeared, then at John. “Would you like to go for a walk? I saw a stream a ways that way.”
“Okay.” Sam held to his hand as they walked. John concentrated on breathing, on not scaring him with the intensity of the emotion welling in his chest.
As they neared the stream, Sam pointed. “Frog!” He let go of John’s hand and chased after the frog, leaping through mud and water with absolute abandon. Finally he caught the frog and tore back. “Look, Daddy! It’s a frog.”
John laughed. “It sure is Sam.”
“Ew! He peed on me!”
“You probably scared him to death. Why don’t you let him go?”
Almost too gentle to be real, Sam put the frog on the ground and patted its head. “I’m sorry little frog. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He grinned up at John, big wide smile that sparkled with joy. John grinned back. He’d never seen Sam so happy, such unqualified happiness. “I wish Dean could see you.”
Sam stood up, and John shook his head. It was easy to forget he was a man when he was squatting on the ground. “Dean is my brother.” Sam said, like he was feeling out the words, testing them for reality. “The one from before I went away.”
John nodded, his throat constricting. “Yes.”
Sam cocked his head. “Ally told me I wasn’t bad.”
“No, Son, you’re not bad.”
He shook his head. “Not what I meant. Before. I was taken away, to a bad place. I thought it was because I was bad.”
John closed his eyes. It was hard to breathe. He shook his head. “No, Sam…you weren’t taken because you were bad.”
“Are you crying Daddy?”
John wiped his cheeks. “Maybe a little Sammy.”
“Did I hurt you? Did I hurt your heart?”
His face was so open and sincere. John felt himself crack open…felt every moment when he’d distrusted Sam flush him with guilt. “No, Sammy. I’m crying because I’m very happy that I get to spend this time with you.”
“I remember when I was really little, like six, I asked about you all the time. He wanted me to call him Dad and I told him no, that he wasn’t my Daddy and I knew it.” His face clouded up and he turned away. “When I’d say it, he’d punish me.”
He wanted to wrap his arms around Sam and never let go. “I’d give anything to keep you from remembering him at all.”
“Ally says it’s part of who I am so I have to remember.” He threw a stone into the water.
“Ally is pretty smart.”
Sam nodded and picked up another stone. “I know I’m big, and I know I’m here because something bad happened. Sometimes when we’re working I feel like me…sometimes I feel like him.”
“Him?”
He nodded, skipping the stone downstream. “The man. He’s me, but not.” He stopped and looked at John. “Like this is me, but not me. Because me when I was this old for real, I didn’t have you…and it was not nice like here. I think I like here better. I like you better.”
“I love you Sam.” He couldn’t have stopped himself from saying it, even knowing how uncomfortable it usually made Sam to hear it.
Sam grinned and threw his arms around John. “I love you too Daddy!”