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The bunker’s quiet for once.
Dean and Castiel are out finishing up a few loose ends with their most recent case and Sam had come home early when Bobby texted saying they needed help with a vampire hunt. Apparently, from receiving the text message to Castiel dropping him off they’d figured their shit out because he barely reached the armory to grab supplies before getting a ‘never mind’ buzz on his phone.
He’s about to call Castiel to bring him back but hesitates … the hunt really was finished. Just a few check ins with the victims to make sure there weren’t any cursed items floating around that they’d missed. The two of them have it covered and the rest of the group are on a celebratory binge for a hunt well done so they’ll be at least another day.
For the first time in a while he has the bunker mostly to himself and nowhere pressing to be. His family is safe, the world isn’t ending, and he’s only a phone call away if anyone needs him.
Jack’s down the hall, but that’s more of a comfort than anything. He used to crave the privacy of being alone when he was younger but now the silence makes his skin itch. Reminds him of times he prefers not to think about.
Warming up to the idea of some personal time he heads to the kitchen, pulling out two cans of beer and steals some of Dean’s Twizzlers from the jar on the counter. With his snacks he finally settles down in the library, a book on the Jones Town Massacre he’s been meaning to read for months on his lap and the sound of the TV echoing down the hall from Jack’s room comforting white noise.
The next time he looks up from his book it’s been nearly three hours and he can’t help a slow grin as he stretches out the kinks in his back. He checks his phone – can’t be completely away from everyone – but there’s only a few messages from Dean checking in and complaining about how the hunts dragging. He’s reading over them when another message pops up on the screen.
>Make sure you call me when you guys finish.
It’s sweet even though he feels a bit guilty. Dean thinks he’s on a vampire hunt, one that’s bad enough for back up to be requested.
>Ended up staying at the bunker. Bobby said they handled it and I figured I could get to work on reorganizing all the research they went through.
>Reorganizing huh?
>Yep
>Right. Don’t eat anything in my bed.
>You’re the only one who does that. And why the hell would I be in your room?
>Because you miss big brother, Sammy.
>You’re insufferable, when do you guys think you’ll be back?
>Hopefully tomorrow, we should know by tonight if we have to stay a bit longer.
>Try not to get cursed
>Try to get your head out of that book long enough eat something.’
Sam grins, rolling his eyes fondly as he pockets his phone. He misses his brother whenever they’re forced to spend time apart but he still enjoys the peace of having some time for himself.
Almost too peaceful now that he thinks about it though. He can’t hear the TV anymore.
It’s not a huge deal, the kid probably just found something else to do but it’s been long enough Sam heads down to check on him.
“Jack?” He knocks lightly on the door, careful not to crease the poster with block letters spelling out JACK in colorful marker taped to the door.
He hears shuffling, something heavy being dragged on the floor. “Come in."
Sam opens up the door only to be greeted by his father’s ax clattering to the floor at his feet.
“Sorry.” Jack says sheepishly, crouching down to pick it back up and lean it against the bed. “It’s very heavy.”
It is, John poured Iron into the handle - something about every part of the weapon needed to serve a purpose but as far as Sam could tell it just made the thing damn near impossible to swing. Jack doesn’t seem to have a problem with carrying it though, just trying to stand it up against his bed.
“What are you doing in here?” He raises an eyebrow, taking in the sight of Jack in the middle of his giant tote of markers, several of Sam’s own flannels, and what looks like Mom’s beanie.
Jack beams at him like he was just waiting for the question to be asked. “Making my costume!”
“Your… what?”
“For Halloween – Wikipedia explained the significance of the tradition of wearing costumes.”
Halloween. God was it really? He glances down at his phone and sure enough October 31st stares right back at him.
Jack bites his lip as he looks back up at him, hesitant about wherever this is going and god, he probably wants to go trick or treating. There’s like one neighborhood in Lebanon and the small town already thinks Dean and him are freaks so he doesn’t know how well that’s going to turn out –
“I want to go to the party."
… Party?
“What party?” He asks curiously.
“The party I saw when we were grocery shopping. They were handing them out.”
He distantly remembers a few kids handing out flyers the last time he went for a supply run but for the life of him he can’t remember who they were with or what it was for. Jack’s prepared though, carefully pulling out the gently folded piece of paper and handing it over to Sam. It’s orange with a big hand drawn Jack O Lantern as the letterhead.
“Neighborhood Halloween Party.” Sam reads aloud slowly, omitting the six exclamation marks at the end. “Games, costume contest, family fun, prizes, and of course candy.”
“I love candy.” Jack reminds him with a grin.
“Pumpkin carving and potluck so bring your creativity and something to share. All welcome.”
Jack nods pointedly at the end as if he wouldn’t have considered going unless that was clarified. It makes something in Sam’s chest tighten because Jack is kind and clever and fun and anyone would be lucky to have him at their Halloween party.
“It says there will be family fun so I would like you to come with me. As a family.”
Oh.
His chest is still tight but for a different reason and if it was with anyone else Sam would clear his throat and pretend that it wasn’t affecting him like this but he’s raising Jack in a world that’s rough enough and he wants this boy to know that it’s okay to feel things.
He pulls Jack into a one armed hug as he looks over the mess on the floor, his book in the library forgotten. “Yeah. We can go.”
…
He has Jack put his costume on hold because they have to make food first, Sam Winchester may have been raised on the road but no one can say he’s not a good party guest.
“Chocolate chip cookies?” Jack repeats, watching as Sam digs out the ancient stand mixer. “Why can’t we just buy them at the store?”
“Because that’s called giving up.” Sam explains, plugging in the mixer before heading to the pantry. “Everyone’s putting effort into organizing this so we should put a bit of effort into what we bring.”
“Dean says there’s nothing worth making that can’t be bought at a diner.”
“Dean’s never been invited to a party that wasn’t full of coeds.”
“Are coeds bad?”
“No, but that kind of party is different – I’ll explain it when you’re older.”
Jack hums curiously, no doubt already planning on looking it all up online later but that’s not a battle he particularly wants to get into.
“And these cookies are better than what we can buy?” Jack clarifies, bringing them back to the point at hand as Sam lays out their dry and wet ingredients.
“Way better, best chocolate chip cookies ever.”
“Where did you learn how to make the best ever ones?” He asks, poking at the different sugars and bringing his finger up to taste
“Uh, my girlfriend. She was a really amazing baker, always looking for an excuse to make something and these were my favorite.” His smile is a bit bittersweet but he’s healed enough that he can think back on the good memories without breaking down.
“Your… girlfriend?” Jack looks up curiously, finger still in his mouth as he sucks on it before letting it go with a pop. “Dean says that you’ve always been together.
Apparently Dean and Jack have been having some deep heart to hearts on diner food and their love life. Although to be fair Jack did take the whole sibling incest thing very well and kept it under lock and key to their other bunker guests. Walking into Sam’s room in the middle of the night when he’d had a nightmare to find a very naked Dean would have been traumatizing for anyone but the two seem to be fine.
“It’s a bit complicated. But yeah, I had a girlfriend in college. Her name was Jess.”
“Jess.” Jack repeats. “Did you love her?”
“I did.” He hands Jack a bowl and a measuring cup, letting him pour the ingredients into the bowl.
“Did you not love Dean?”
“No, but I thought Dean didn’t want me and I was trying to figure out who I was back then. Jess helped me feel like I was worth something as my own person. Dean’s my soulmate but Jess will always be very important to me.”
Jack doesn’t ask what happened to Jess which Sam is thankful for.
They mix up the dry ingredients before moving to the wet in the mixer. Jack smashes three eggs on the counter and is about to crack the fourth with a look of serious concentration. Sam’s patient though, knows that he wants to feel useful and they have a whole carton of the things. Fourth times the charm though, the shell cracking smoothly enough to not splatter anywhere but inside the bowl with only a little bit of shell Sam picks out when Jack turns to wash his hands.
“This is the most important part.” He explains, taking the bowl off the mixer and handing Jack the bag of chocolate chips. “If you use the mixer it’ll break them up so you have to do it by hand.”
Jack nods seriously, very carefully sprinkling the chips into the batter and taking the spoon Sam hands him to mix them in. “Will they not let us into the party if they taste bad?” He frowns, leaning in close to examine the chocolate chip ratio.
“No, but we want to impress these people with our baking skills.” Sam nudges him gently. That and he’s pretty sure most of Lebanon thinks him and Dean live out of a tent so might as well show they’re civilized enough to make a decent cookie.
He double checks the temperature of the oven, turning around to see Jack pulling out the cookie cutters they’d somehow ended up with. He thinks they might have been Kevins mom’s that he brought after she died.
“I saw these on TV, we can cut the cookies into shapes!” He puts a dinosaur, a candy cane, and a rabbit out on the counter.
“Well those are more for sugar cookies,” Sam explains. “with those you roll out the dough and cut it with the shapes. Ours we have to scoop out.”
“They’re cookie cutters, they should not be limited to only one type of cookie.”
Sam can’t argue with that.
Which is how they end up pressing cookie dough inside the cutters to try and shape them. The dough was too sticky to roll out or cut into but Jack was very firm in the Winchester motto of ‘there’s no quitters’. Honestly, when the hell are Jack and Dean getting this much time alone?
Four sheets later – might as well make extra – they slide them all into the oven and Sam sets a timer on his phone. “So what exactly is your costume?”
“A lumberjack.” Jacks hums, licking the cookie dough off the spoon.
Ah. He should have put that together. “Right well you might scare off the locals if you try and haul that ax to the party.”
“But how are people going to know what I am? On television, they always have an ax.”
“We’ll figure it out, I’m sure there’s something around here you can use.” He picks up the measuring cups and bowl and sets them in the sink, filling it with water. “Why a lumberjack?”
“Well I wanted to be a pumpkin but I didn’t have anything orange so I started looking through the laundry. Still didn’t find anything orange but I did find a lot of flannel.”
Sam laughs, “It’s a good idea, the best costumes are ones where you can just get everything around your house.”
“We have an ax around the house.” He grins hopefully.
“You’re not taking a real ax to the party.”
…
A piece of cardboard wrapped in tinfoil and glued to a wooden rod turns out to work just fine.
“See? People will be a lot more friendly with that.” Sam says, looking over Dean’s flannels since they were more likely to fit Jack and the ones he’d pulled himself from the laundry room had needed a wash.
“I still think it would have been cooler with a real one.” Jack groans but isn’t passing up on the opportunity to curiously peek through Dean’s room. There’s nothing incriminating out in the open in here besides Dean’s massive pile of dirty laundry so Sam lets him.
“Here, I think this one is the reddest he has.” He pulls out a dark red flannel and tosses it to Jack who catches it without turning, too busy looking over the photos on Dean’s nightstand.
They’re creepy reflexes, evidence of the true power inside him but Sam trusts Jack and the responsibility he bears as he grows into them.
He walks over, glancing over the familiar photos that sit up on the shelf next to Dean’s bed. There’s a lot of Sam – most of them embarrassing - like his fourth grade picture Dean still keeps for some stupid reason and a few disposable camera pictures of the two of them as teenagers.
They’d been careful, so careful. John Winchester’s wrath wasn’t something to be messed with so no evidence could exist. Except for once time they were daring, one picture of Dean kissing Sam’s cheek when he was twenty and Sam was sixteen that’s carefully tucked into the binding of a Latin dictionary now that their mom is back. The only evidence of just how long this thing between them has been going.
He misses it’s place out in the open but knows that until the bunker is back down to the four of them that can’t happen.
There’s more recent pictures, of course, this worlds Bobby, Jody and the girls and them all together at Thanksgiving. The one at the end though seems to have caught Jack’s attention. It’s recent, only a few months ago; Sam, Dean, Jack, and Cas all talking at the dinner table. Mom must have taken it because there’s another table setting with no one there.
“I didn’t know I was here too.”
Sam smiles softly and squeezes Jack’s shoulder. “Of course you are Jack. You’re our family too.”
Jack takes one last lingering glance at the picture before looking down at the flannel. “You promise everyone will know who I am?”
“I swear, no ax needed. I have an idea though.”
They have face paint in the spare closet, a leftover from an old undercover case but it’s just what Sam needs. He sets Jack up on a stool in the kitchen while the cookies cool and dips a cheap brush into the brown paint.
“I’m not a great artist but this shouldn’t be too hard.” He bit his lip, dragging the brush in small upward strokes to slowly give Jack a beard.
It looks ridiculous but in that Halloween way where it’s acceptable and if you squint at him from a distance it sort of looks like he has a real five o’clock shadow.
Jack loves it.
He buttons up his red flannel with his blue jeans and keeps glancing in every reflective surface there is to grin at himself. “You know, I think I look more like you than a lumberjack.”
Sam scoffs before pausing, taking in the brown beard and flannel.
“I bet if you let me carry the ax no one will notice.”
“No, Jack… I’m going to change.”
…
Flannel was definitely out of the picture even with Jack’s offer of matching costumes and it truly takes eliminating something from your wardrobe options to realize how little of anything else you have.
He eventually comes back out in a black Henley and hopes his jacket will help hide whatever associations there are. “C’mon, Dean has the Impala so we’re walking.”
“I could take us.” Jack looks up from where he’s carefully organizing their two tin foil covered cookie plates. Very rough shapes of candy canes, bunnies and dinosaurs decorate the plate but as long as Jack's happy Sam doesn't really care what they look like, they should be in people's mouths before long.
“We don’t know where it is and I’d rather not risk us overshooting the landing in front of everyone. Besides, it’s nice out.”
He grabs one of the trays, leaving the other for Jack as he looks up the address on the flyer on his phone.
It isn’t that bad of a walk and Jack seems to get more and more excited the closer they get, Main Street lit up with ghosts hanging off the street lights and the glow of bonfires from a few peoples yards.
They turn down a closed off street to the main neighborhood of Lebanon and are immediately hit with music. Monster Mash is playing out of someone’s car and kids are running around in groups, their faces covered in all sorts of treats. A lion, a princess, and an astronaut all rush past them and the smell of toasted marshmallows and hot dogs fills the air.
Almost everyone’s in costume, adults and kids alike so Sam’s worry that Jack might stick out is quickly put to rest. He spots some teenagers gathering around the huge bonfire across from the adults and looks down at Jack. “You want to head over there?”
Jack chews his lip, looking between Sam and the kids hesitantly. “I don’t want to be weird.”
That tight protectiveness is back and god, how the hell did Dean ever let him go anywhere as a kid?
“You’ll be just fine, everyone loves you, Jack. Just go be yourself minus the powers.” He winks, watching Jack’s shoulders relax. Sometimes the kid just needed a vote of confidence and Sam would always be ready and willing to give it. “Don’t forget your ax.”
He carefully hands Sam his tray of cookies in exchange for his fake ax and starts across the street to go make friends.
Sam watches for a moment, making sure Jack’s okay and sure enough, within moments the group is pulling him in and the bag of marshmallows passed over. A sign of acceptance if he’s ever seen one.
Of course, Sam can’t exactly just stand in the middle of the road all evening. And while he knows Jack can make friends just fine, his own situation is a little more tense. Still, he promised they’d come to this thing and he’s not about to half ass on his end. Plus he worked hard on these cookies.
He makes his way over, feeling the gazes of the adults as he approaches. There’s only two hundred people in Lebanon so despite their best efforts the Winchesters have not managed to slide under the radar.
He approaches a woman who seems to be managing the food table, holding up the two trays. “Anywhere you’d like me to put these?” He smiles.
She glances over Sam’s shoulder at the group before back to him. “Of course, I’ll take them off you. There’s beer in the cooler and help yourself to anything on the table.”
How long has it been since he’s done this? He grabs a beer, knowing the age old dance of making sure you had something for your hands to do and lingering on the edges. He barely cracks open his drink before they descend.
“I’m Ross, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Sam.” He shakes his hand, recognizing the man from the gas station, always working behind the counter and he assumes owns the place.
Then men start to gather round, their own little pose to suss out the new guy who –
“Is that a Stanford shirt?” He asks, it looks like an alumni crest, something he hasn’t seen in years.
“Uh yeah.” The man - Stephen? – looks surprised. “I did my undergrad there.”
“What year?”
“2003.”
“I’m 2005.”
Then they’re talking about school, Stephen having managed a full ride scholarship out of his small town only to be brought right back after finishing up med school to run the only practice in town. He’s dressed as a Stanford sports fan, the ultimate lazy adult costume and actually doesn’t really keep up with it, having gone on Berkeley for the rest of his degree.
So if he heard about the poor story of senior Sam Winchester who was kidnapped by his brother before graduation and went on to commit a series of serial murders he didn’t pay it much thought.
Sam hasn’t thought about college in a long time but here he is talking about that shitty English 101 teacher everyone hated and how the chicken sandwiches in the café always tasted like feet.
Everyone seems much more relaxed now, Sam not so much a mountain man who just crawled down from his cave but a confirmed graduate from a top university – they don’t need to know he never actually walked in the ceremony or received his degree for that matter. The food is good and it’s nice to talk to everyday people about everyday things without the threat of a monster or pretense guiding the conversation.
The weathers nice for October, there’s a charcoal sale at the Walmart two towns over, gas is supposed to raise a bit before the new year. Sam’s fears of being unable to engage are washed away in the normality of just living in the same area as these people and sharing a few similar strands of experience.
“And who’s that?” Jenna, the older woman who heads the organization of this every year asks when Jack waves over at Sam.
“My brother, Jack.” He smiles easily.
“And that other man I see with you sometimes? He’s not here tonight?”
“That would be my older brother, Dean. And no ma’am. He’s away on business.
“Always nice to see a close family, feels like those principals have just been tossed out the window these days.”
Sam hides a wiry grin into his cup.
His cookies are of course a hit, several people asking for the recipe but Sam is tight lipped about it, remembering Jess swearing that it was family only who got to have it. He respects her wishes, thinking she’d be happy with him maybe teaching the whole thing to Jack later.
They stay late, Jack unable to say no to any of the activities and by the time they finally leave Jack’s carrying their carved pumpkins and Sam has a tray full of food Jenna insisted on him bringing home for ‘the boys’.
…
He hears the door crack open before he’s completely awake, the slow sound of it squeaking making his body react before his mind can fully come to.
“Shhh, go back to sleep.”
He immediately relaxes, Dean’s voice soothing the panic before it can start as the bed dips and cool arms are wrapping around him from behind.
“You’re home.” He murmurs sleepily, eyes feeling too heavy to open but he leans back when he feels Dean’s face press into his neck.
“We finished late but I didn’t want to spend another night in that dump. Had Cas fly us back. Baby’s could use the break anyway, I need to check under the hood in the morning.”
Sam hums, already half back asleep.
“So you wanna tell me why we have two Jack o Lanterns in the map room?”
“The dog's mine, the bat's Jack’s.” He yawns.
“Yeah, and is the pile of food in the kitchen yours too?”
“Mmmhhmm.”
“Saw you made those cookies, looks like you two had fun.”
“We went to a party, met the town.”
Dean raises an eyebrow, leaning up on his arm to look down at Sam in the dark. “What?”
Sam cracks open an eye to look up at him. “Jack wanted to go to, he picked out a costume and everything, it’s his first real Halloween.”
“How come when I’m home you never go to any parties?”
“Because you tire me out.” He murmurs, rolling back onto his side.
“Damn right I do.” Dean huffs, slotting his hips suggestively against Sam’s but it’s nothing more than a tease, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
Sam hums something unintelligible, Dean chuckling into his hair as he got comfortable. “Alright, well next time I want to be here when you do something with the kid. We’ll go all out for Thanksgiving, show him how the Winchesters cook a turkey.”
“I think that’s just called burnt.”
“Shut up, Sammy.”