fic#4 - gen by moosesal
Gen now!!
Title - Everything
Pairing - none
Spoilers/Note - This is a future fic. The only spoilers are mild for season 1, episode 1. And that's all you need to know to follow this.
Author - ???
Everything
You pull yourself together and open the door only to be attacked by two small children yelling "Uncle Dean! Uncle Dean!" You drop to your knees and take them in your arms; they bury their faces against your neck and you feel warm tears on your skin.
You look up and Sam's pulling the youngest -- a baby -- out of the car. He turns and looks at you, his face blank, his eyes empty. He presses Sarah to his chest and pushes the car door closed with his hip.
"Hey," you say.
He tries to smile at you, but any words are caught in his throat.
"Come on." You stand up and pull Johnny and Jesse inside with you as Sam climbs the porch steps to your front door. You look him in the eye again and silently tell him everything will be all right, but you both know it's not that simple.
The twins remind you of when you and Sam were kids. They have their own language, their own secret looks. They're handling this better than Sam. Better than Dad did years ago. Better than you would if you ever let yourself get that close to anyone. Better than you're handling just looking at Sam right now.
Things are working themselves out and you look around the dinner table for the first time in weeks and smile because you see a family. You laugh at yourself because you feel like a parent -- telling Jesse to eat his green beans as you get up to get Sarah from her crib when you hear her cry. You know how he likes to force them on Johnny when no one's looking. Johnny's like you, he'll do anything for his brother -- even eat extra green beans.
You bring Sarah into the kitchen and fix her a bottle then carry her upstairs and knock on the door at the end of the hall. Silence. You knock again. And still silence.
"Come on, Sammy. Sarah needs you." You try the knob and the door opens. Sam's lying on the bed facing the far wall. He doesn't move, he doesn't answer. "Hey." You sit on the edge of the bed. "You need to hold her, Sam. Feed her. She needs you." He doesn't move and you sigh. It's been this way ever since they arrived. Sam walked through the front door and handed her off to you and hasn't held her since. You remember Dad reacted the same way all those years ago -- scared to hold Sam, worried that it was somehow all his fault.
You give Sarah the bottle and she shifts into you as she sucks. She's so beautiful, like her mother. But you see Sam in her eyes. "You can't do this to her. You can't do this to yourself."
Sam's crying shakes the bed and you just sit there at his side, taking care of his child, listening to him sob, choking on tears and pain, until a soft voice in the doorway pulls you back. "Uncle Dean?" You turn your head and Jesse's there. "We ... we finished our dinner. Can we watch TV?" He's so hesitant and you can see that he's looking at his father behind you.
"Yeah. Yeah, you guys do that. I'll be right down."
He swallows and nods and walks away. You think seeing his father like this is harder on him than what happened to his mother.
You get the boys enrolled in school because it's been a month; any longer and they're going to fall too far behind. Sam still hasn't come downstairs. He leaves your bedroom only to use the bathroom, eats only when you bring him food.
You set the boys up in the spare room and sleep on the couch in your office, a crib in the corner for Sarah. You've been spending so much time in there anyway, researching cases and finding other hunters to take care of them for you, subcontracting the paid investigations you can't do from home. You're busy taking care of family right now. Sam comes first. He always has. And now you've got Sarah and the twins, too.
On Parents' Night you go to the school and meet Ms. Sawyer. She's just as pretty as the boys said and you flirt with her a bit. She laughs at you and focuses on Sarah who's sleeping peacefully on your shoulder. "Your children are doing very well. You and their mother should be proud," she says.
"My--?" You stare at her for a second, surprised the boys didn't tell her. Then you make a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough in an unsuccessful attempt to cover the shock and the sorrow that creeps back to the fore. "They're my nephews. Their mom ... she passed recently."
"I'm sorry. I didn't --"
"It's okay. My brother ... well, I'm helping him out, you know?"
She looks into your eyes and you feel a calm wash over you, warmth surrounds you. You relax and she smiles as she says, "It'll all work out. Everything happens for a reason." It doesn't even occur to you to be sarcastic or bitter, you somehow know that she's right.
Another few months pass and you see Ms. Sawyer in the grocery store and Target and at the drug store and the two of you talk a bit each time. You call her Laura now and find yourself opening up to her a little bit more each time you meet. She has this way of looking at you that just calms you and makes you feel comfortable, safe, confident even. You leave her thinking that you can do this, you can be a father to these kids, you can get Sam on his feet again. You can be a family.
Sam's been having nightmares since that first night. But unlike the dreams he had of Jess all those years ago, these seem to get worse. And then one day the boys come home with a package from Laura -- a small baggie filled with some mix of herbs. A note says to dissolve half a teaspoon into a cup of warm milk, that it'll help Sam sleep. You figure he's not really living at this point, so why not give it a try.
It works and he sleeps through the night. You make it a nightly ritual and Sam looks both relieved and sad that the dreams are gone. Without being asked, Laura sends more the next week.
It's been almost four months when things start to change for the better. You're in the kitchen making pancakes while the boys watch Saturday morning cartoons and you look up to see Sam leaning against the doorframe staring at you.
"Hey."
"Hey." It's the first thing he's said since they arrived. It feels like an eternity has passed. He looks over at Sarah in her high-chair pushing Cheerios around on the tray. You see a tear slide down his cheek and he turns to leave.
"Sit down, Sam." He freezes and his shoulders fall as he turns into the wall and shakes. There was a time when you might have laughed at him for crying, teased him, but that time is long gone. His tears don't come easily. They're torn from his body as he fights to suppress it all. Seeing him like this makes you ache more than you remember ever hurting before.
You flip the pancake on the griddle then walk over to him. "Hey," you whisper, leaning into his back. "I know it's hard, but you have to start living. For your kids, man." You turn him and guide him to a kitchen chair.
You slip back over to the stove and scoop up the pancake before it burns. You pour out more batter and then head for Sarah, pulling her from her chair and handing her to Sam on your way back to the stove. Sam stares at you, his hold of his daughter hesitant, shaky. "Dean..."
You ignore him, flipping pancakes and humming "Master of Puppets" under your breath, just like any other Saturday morning in the Winchester home. The last pancake is done and you yell for the boys. They come running into the kitchen, Johnny first. He freezes and Jesse slams into the back of him. He starts to say something that'll get him two days without TV when he realizes his dad is at the table. Both boys take their seats at the table, exchanging little looks with each other, that silent communication they've developed. Dean's not sure he's ever seen them so quiet or well behaved, not even those first few days. They're seven-year-old boys, not exactly known for their manners.
"Hey guys," Sam says to them. Sarah's settled in his arms now.
"Dad," they mumble in unison. Their eyes track back and forth between you at one end of the table and Sam at the other. You dig into a stack of pancakes and relax. Things are going to be okay.
"Da! Da!" You turn around expecting to see Sam, but Sarah's looking at you. It's been six months now since they came to live with you and while Sam's come out of the bedroom and started interacting a bit, you're still the one taking care of the kids. Seeing the boys off to school, shopping and cleaning, teaching Sarah to walk. When Sarah's first word is directed at you, it breaks your heart.
You pick her up and smile at her. "Dean," you say. "Dean."
"Da!"
"Dean."
"Sa."
"Sa?"
"I think she means me." You turn around and see Sam behind you.
"Sam--"
"Sa!"
She'll figure it out in time you think, but a part of you hopes she doesn't. It feels better than you'd ever dreamed to be called Dad.
Now that Sam's functioning enough to actually stay home with the kids, you ask Laura out to dinner. She asks about your brother and you tell her he's doing better. You tell her about how Sarah's toddling around on her little feet now and starting to talk.
She says the boys are interacting more and more with the other kids. She was worried at first that they were too caught up in each other, but now she's sure that they'll be fine. "You're good for them," she says and you laugh because you always planned to avoid marriage, children, family. It was too dangerous -- for them and for you. Now you can't imagine anything else.
"How do you ... how do you know?" he asked.
"I just do." She winks at you and you see a glint in her eye. You don't know what she is and your first instinct is to ask or to go home and research. An angel? A witch? A spirit of some kind? But you look in her eyes again and the instinct goes away and you don't fight it. She's helped you, she's helped your family, and true to her word, everything is going to be okay.
-END-
now the poll!
Poll guess the author!
Title - Everything
Pairing - none
Spoilers/Note - This is a future fic. The only spoilers are mild for season 1, episode 1. And that's all you need to know to follow this.
Author - ???
Everything
You pull yourself together and open the door only to be attacked by two small children yelling "Uncle Dean! Uncle Dean!" You drop to your knees and take them in your arms; they bury their faces against your neck and you feel warm tears on your skin.
You look up and Sam's pulling the youngest -- a baby -- out of the car. He turns and looks at you, his face blank, his eyes empty. He presses Sarah to his chest and pushes the car door closed with his hip.
"Hey," you say.
He tries to smile at you, but any words are caught in his throat.
"Come on." You stand up and pull Johnny and Jesse inside with you as Sam climbs the porch steps to your front door. You look him in the eye again and silently tell him everything will be all right, but you both know it's not that simple.
The twins remind you of when you and Sam were kids. They have their own language, their own secret looks. They're handling this better than Sam. Better than Dad did years ago. Better than you would if you ever let yourself get that close to anyone. Better than you're handling just looking at Sam right now.
Things are working themselves out and you look around the dinner table for the first time in weeks and smile because you see a family. You laugh at yourself because you feel like a parent -- telling Jesse to eat his green beans as you get up to get Sarah from her crib when you hear her cry. You know how he likes to force them on Johnny when no one's looking. Johnny's like you, he'll do anything for his brother -- even eat extra green beans.
You bring Sarah into the kitchen and fix her a bottle then carry her upstairs and knock on the door at the end of the hall. Silence. You knock again. And still silence.
"Come on, Sammy. Sarah needs you." You try the knob and the door opens. Sam's lying on the bed facing the far wall. He doesn't move, he doesn't answer. "Hey." You sit on the edge of the bed. "You need to hold her, Sam. Feed her. She needs you." He doesn't move and you sigh. It's been this way ever since they arrived. Sam walked through the front door and handed her off to you and hasn't held her since. You remember Dad reacted the same way all those years ago -- scared to hold Sam, worried that it was somehow all his fault.
You give Sarah the bottle and she shifts into you as she sucks. She's so beautiful, like her mother. But you see Sam in her eyes. "You can't do this to her. You can't do this to yourself."
Sam's crying shakes the bed and you just sit there at his side, taking care of his child, listening to him sob, choking on tears and pain, until a soft voice in the doorway pulls you back. "Uncle Dean?" You turn your head and Jesse's there. "We ... we finished our dinner. Can we watch TV?" He's so hesitant and you can see that he's looking at his father behind you.
"Yeah. Yeah, you guys do that. I'll be right down."
He swallows and nods and walks away. You think seeing his father like this is harder on him than what happened to his mother.
You get the boys enrolled in school because it's been a month; any longer and they're going to fall too far behind. Sam still hasn't come downstairs. He leaves your bedroom only to use the bathroom, eats only when you bring him food.
You set the boys up in the spare room and sleep on the couch in your office, a crib in the corner for Sarah. You've been spending so much time in there anyway, researching cases and finding other hunters to take care of them for you, subcontracting the paid investigations you can't do from home. You're busy taking care of family right now. Sam comes first. He always has. And now you've got Sarah and the twins, too.
On Parents' Night you go to the school and meet Ms. Sawyer. She's just as pretty as the boys said and you flirt with her a bit. She laughs at you and focuses on Sarah who's sleeping peacefully on your shoulder. "Your children are doing very well. You and their mother should be proud," she says.
"My--?" You stare at her for a second, surprised the boys didn't tell her. Then you make a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough in an unsuccessful attempt to cover the shock and the sorrow that creeps back to the fore. "They're my nephews. Their mom ... she passed recently."
"I'm sorry. I didn't --"
"It's okay. My brother ... well, I'm helping him out, you know?"
She looks into your eyes and you feel a calm wash over you, warmth surrounds you. You relax and she smiles as she says, "It'll all work out. Everything happens for a reason." It doesn't even occur to you to be sarcastic or bitter, you somehow know that she's right.
Another few months pass and you see Ms. Sawyer in the grocery store and Target and at the drug store and the two of you talk a bit each time. You call her Laura now and find yourself opening up to her a little bit more each time you meet. She has this way of looking at you that just calms you and makes you feel comfortable, safe, confident even. You leave her thinking that you can do this, you can be a father to these kids, you can get Sam on his feet again. You can be a family.
Sam's been having nightmares since that first night. But unlike the dreams he had of Jess all those years ago, these seem to get worse. And then one day the boys come home with a package from Laura -- a small baggie filled with some mix of herbs. A note says to dissolve half a teaspoon into a cup of warm milk, that it'll help Sam sleep. You figure he's not really living at this point, so why not give it a try.
It works and he sleeps through the night. You make it a nightly ritual and Sam looks both relieved and sad that the dreams are gone. Without being asked, Laura sends more the next week.
It's been almost four months when things start to change for the better. You're in the kitchen making pancakes while the boys watch Saturday morning cartoons and you look up to see Sam leaning against the doorframe staring at you.
"Hey."
"Hey." It's the first thing he's said since they arrived. It feels like an eternity has passed. He looks over at Sarah in her high-chair pushing Cheerios around on the tray. You see a tear slide down his cheek and he turns to leave.
"Sit down, Sam." He freezes and his shoulders fall as he turns into the wall and shakes. There was a time when you might have laughed at him for crying, teased him, but that time is long gone. His tears don't come easily. They're torn from his body as he fights to suppress it all. Seeing him like this makes you ache more than you remember ever hurting before.
You flip the pancake on the griddle then walk over to him. "Hey," you whisper, leaning into his back. "I know it's hard, but you have to start living. For your kids, man." You turn him and guide him to a kitchen chair.
You slip back over to the stove and scoop up the pancake before it burns. You pour out more batter and then head for Sarah, pulling her from her chair and handing her to Sam on your way back to the stove. Sam stares at you, his hold of his daughter hesitant, shaky. "Dean..."
You ignore him, flipping pancakes and humming "Master of Puppets" under your breath, just like any other Saturday morning in the Winchester home. The last pancake is done and you yell for the boys. They come running into the kitchen, Johnny first. He freezes and Jesse slams into the back of him. He starts to say something that'll get him two days without TV when he realizes his dad is at the table. Both boys take their seats at the table, exchanging little looks with each other, that silent communication they've developed. Dean's not sure he's ever seen them so quiet or well behaved, not even those first few days. They're seven-year-old boys, not exactly known for their manners.
"Hey guys," Sam says to them. Sarah's settled in his arms now.
"Dad," they mumble in unison. Their eyes track back and forth between you at one end of the table and Sam at the other. You dig into a stack of pancakes and relax. Things are going to be okay.
"Da! Da!" You turn around expecting to see Sam, but Sarah's looking at you. It's been six months now since they came to live with you and while Sam's come out of the bedroom and started interacting a bit, you're still the one taking care of the kids. Seeing the boys off to school, shopping and cleaning, teaching Sarah to walk. When Sarah's first word is directed at you, it breaks your heart.
You pick her up and smile at her. "Dean," you say. "Dean."
"Da!"
"Dean."
"Sa."
"Sa?"
"I think she means me." You turn around and see Sam behind you.
"Sam--"
"Sa!"
She'll figure it out in time you think, but a part of you hopes she doesn't. It feels better than you'd ever dreamed to be called Dad.
Now that Sam's functioning enough to actually stay home with the kids, you ask Laura out to dinner. She asks about your brother and you tell her he's doing better. You tell her about how Sarah's toddling around on her little feet now and starting to talk.
She says the boys are interacting more and more with the other kids. She was worried at first that they were too caught up in each other, but now she's sure that they'll be fine. "You're good for them," she says and you laugh because you always planned to avoid marriage, children, family. It was too dangerous -- for them and for you. Now you can't imagine anything else.
"How do you ... how do you know?" he asked.
"I just do." She winks at you and you see a glint in her eye. You don't know what she is and your first instinct is to ask or to go home and research. An angel? A witch? A spirit of some kind? But you look in her eyes again and the instinct goes away and you don't fight it. She's helped you, she's helped your family, and true to her word, everything is going to be okay.
-END-
now the poll!
Poll guess the author!