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“Dad looks fancy.” Emma smiled as Dean entered the kitchen.
Sam looked up to see Dean wearing a dark green button down and dark wash jeans. His older brother fussed with his hair using his reflection in the microwave. Sam hadn’t seen Dean this carefree in a while. The last few months had been filled with hunts and pure chaos. Dean was still struggling with the lost of their father, or more so their dad trading his life for Dean’s.
It had been rough, with long weeks spent away from Dean’s home. Sam had seen his older brother tense and pissy. This lead to snapping at everything that moved. Emma had been the butt end of some of these snaps and had spent more time outside or in her room, avoiding her dad. After a few screaming matches between Dean and Cas, Dean and Sam, and Dean and Bobby, the older Winchester was coming around and moving on from their abusive Dad’s death.
It was date night, the first one Dean and Cas had had in a long time. Sam had jumped at the task of babysitting Emma for the night. Dean had been hesitant because of Sam’s visions but after a long talk, a lot of pleading, and some rated R convincing from Cas, Dean caved.
“Geez Dean, I didn’t know you knew how to tuck in your shirt.” Sam grinned cheekily.
“Shove it, Sammy.” Dean growled without any heat behind it.
Dean pulled the chicken strips out of oven. Emma pulled herself up to sit on the counter next to the stove. She went to grab a chicken strip but Dean batted her hand away gently, scolding her that it was too hot yet.
“Dean, are you ready?” Cas came down the stairs dressed equally nice in a navy dress shirt and black dress pants.
“You clean up nice, Cas.” Sam complimented.
“Thank you, Sam.”
“Hey, watch it.” Dean placed a kiss on Cas’ cheek. “He’s mine.”
Emma pretended to vomit, Sam did the same and they giggled. Dean rolled his eyes and adjusted his shirt sleeve.
“Okay, we’ll be back before midnight. Emma’s bedtime is nine, she doesn’t have any homework, and-“
“Dean, I got it.” Sam rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, Dad. We’re good.” Emma gave her best puppy dog eyes from where she still sat on the counter.
“Okay.” Dean smiled softly. He kissed Emma’s forehead. “Be good, both of you.”
“Good is my middle name.” Emma grinned.
“It’s so not.” Dean said, amused. “Sam, call if anything goes sideways.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sam waved him off. “Get out of here, you two.”
Dean and Cas waved and with a slam of the front door, they were gone. “Finally.” Emma sighed.
“Takes forever for them to leave, doesn’t it?” Sam began plating chicken stripes and sweet potato.
“It’s gross looking.” Emma pouted at the sweet potato.
“Come on, at the table.” Sam said and set their plates down.
“I don’t want sweet potato.” Emma grumbled, but took a seat.
“You have to eat it if you want popcorn tonight.”
“Blah!” Emma scrunched her nose.
“You’re so Dean’s off spring.” Sam smiled, amused.
“What?” Emma tilted her head, a tick she seemed to have picked up from Cas.
“Eat your sweet potato.” Sam took a big bite of his own. “It’s good.”
Emma poked at her food. She ate her chicken and had only her potato left on her plate. “It’s orange, potatoes aren’t supposed to be orange.”
“Carrots are orange and you like carrots.” Sam pointed out, scraping his own plate clean.
“Carrots are supposed to be orange.” Emma rolled her eyes like it was obvious.
“You have to eat your vegetables.” Sam stood and began cleaning the kitchen.
“I’ll eat them if you answer my question.”
“Okay.” Sam prayed she wasn’t about to ask where babies came from.
“Why is Dad gone all the time?” Emma asked. “Do I drive him batshit crazy?”
“What?” Sam’s brow furrowed. “No, Dean loves being here with you.”
“Then why is he gone all the time?” Emma’s green eyes cut into Sam.
“Because... because things are crazy right now, and it’s my fault.” Sam sighed. “It’ll get better. There’s just some stuff we have to take care of.”
“Oh, okay.” Emma eyed her potato. “So I don’t drive him batshit crazy?”
“No, why would you ask that?”
“That’s what Mom used to say. She’d leave cause I was a lot of work.” Emma shrugged.
“Dean loves you a lot, and he’d rather be here with you than hunting all the time.”
“Okay.”
“Now eat your potato.” Sam cleared his throat. “And don’t say shit.”
Emma finished her food without any more fuss. Sam turned what she said in his brain as he washed dishes. He didn’t know much about her mom, just that she was an abusive deadbeat.
“Can we watch Lilo and Stitch?” Emma asked as she finally finished her plate of food.
“Seriously? You don’t want to watch anything else? There’s like a thousand movies in the entertainment center.”
“I like it.” Emma protested. “It makes Dad laugh.”
Sam’s heart melted at his niece’s words. He remembered when he was younger, he would sometimes pick movies he knew Dean liked. Sam’ll complain forever about watching “Die Hard” again, but it would be a cold day in hell when he refused to watch it when his brother asked. When Dean enjoyed a movie it often made it ten times better.
So they watched “Lilo and Stitch”. Emma curled up against the arm of the couch with a fluffy blanket. Sam sat on the other end, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table. A bowl of buttered popcorn sat between them. They both tried their hand at throwing popcorn into the air and catching it in their mouths. Both ended up failing miserably and having to pick up their mess.
When the movie was over, there was still time before Emma’s bed time. Sam had her shower and get ready for bed and there was still an hour and a half until he could even try to put the eight year old to bed.
“Can we play a game?” Emm asked.
“Yeah, what one?”
“Garbage!” Sam was surprised she didn’t request poker, he didn’t know what garbage was but he was hopeful it wasn’t gambling.
“Okay, you’ll have to teach me though.”
“Okay!” Emma agreed and they made a nest of blankets on the floor.
Emma explained the basic card game to Sam. It was a simple game that didn’t require a lot of strategy. Emma told Sam she learned it in school and Dean and her would play a lot on weekends. She won the first round and Sam won the second. What? He didn’t believe in letting the kid win, she could do so just fine on her own.
“Are you excited school is almost out?” Sam asked as he shuffled the cards for the next round.
“Yeah, kinda.” Emma shrugged. “I like school.”
“That’s good.” Sam smiled. “I like school too.”
“Did Dad like school when he was little?”
“Uh...” Sam cleared his throat and messed with the cards. “Not really, no. Dean never really tried at school. He was too busy helping our Dad...or helping me.”
“Oh.” Emma seemed to be pondering this. “He’s smart though. He helps me with my math, and reading, and he knows all about cars, and hunting, and a lot of other cool stuff.”
“Yeah, your Dad is smart, isn’t he?” Sam smiled. He had hated when Dean worshiped their father and made him a hero, but when Emma did it it didn’t bather Sam. Maybe it was because he thought Dean was a good dad, or he still had a hero worship thing about his big brother. “School isn’t for everyone. Different people like and are good at different things. Just because someone doesn’t get good grades doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”
“Okay.” Emma nodded.
Honestly, Sam wished there had been someone to tell him that when he was her age. He regretted all the mean thoughts and words he had said or had about kids in his class who didn’t understand the homework or were failing. As a teenager who thought he knew everything, Sam hadn’t been understanding to why Dean never did his homework or got bad grades on tests. Sam knew better now, he just wished he would have learned that lesson before he hurt his brother’s and other kid’s feelings.
“Hey, last round, okay?” Sam said, glancing at the clock in the living room. “Your dad will never leave me in charge of you again if you’re crabby tomorrow from being up too late.”
“I won’t be crabby.” Emma whined.
“Okay.” Sam drawled out to show his disbelief.
“I won’t!” Emma pouted.
“Doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re going to bed on time.” Sam said. “So deal the cards.”
They played their round, Emma won, and they clean up their nest and put the cards away. Then Sam escorted Emma up to her room with a glass of water. She curled herself under her four blankets, even with the summer heat Emma insisted she have all her blankets. Sam helped her arrange her stuffed animals so they were facing the door and any monster that would come through -not that Sam, Dean, or Cas would ever let that happen.
“Can you read me a chapter?” Emma asked under her mountain of blankets and stuffed animals. “Please, uncle Sammy.”
Sam was powerless against his niece’s puppy dog eyes. “Fine, one chapter.”
“Yeah!” Emma cheered and Sam got situated next to her with her current Harry Potter book in his lap.
Sam finished reading, Emma’s eyes were drooping shut. Quietly, Sam placed the book on the nightstand and untangled himself so he could stand. He went to shut off the lamp when Emma’s eyes peaked open.
“Sam, when the bad things are all done are you going to leave?”
“I-I...” Sam faltered. “I don’t know, but I’m here for a long time yet.”
“Okay, love you, uncle Sammy.” Emma seemed satisfied with his answer, more satisfied then Sam was.
Sam shut off the lamp and turned on the nightlight that cast stars on the ceiling. He crept back downstairs. The dark and quiet house seemed to be mocking Sam. A year later and Sam still felt out of place. The homey house didn’t feel homey to him.
He reached for the cabinet above the refrigerator and grabbed the lone bottle of whiskey Dean kept in the house. Sam remembered to grab a glass before getting settled at the counter. The first shot of whiskey burned perfectly down his throat. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had whiskey.
What was he going to do after all this crap was over? Would it ever be over, his visions and Yellow Eyes? Sam couldn’t see the end, the light at the end of the tunnel. The bad just seemed to keep piling up. They had more questions than answers at this point.
Sam took another shot. For arguments sake, let’s say the shit did stop. They killed Yellow Eyes and stopped his visions. Did Sam want to go back to college, back to Stanford? Did he want to go back to a Stanford without Jess?
Another shot scorched his throat. Then another followed it immediately. Sam was finally feeling the effects of the alcohol in his system. It felt good. If he was being honest with himself…he wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. Sam had always known what he wanted, he wanted to go to college. Then he wanted to go to college and become a lawyer. Then he wanted to go to Stanford, and so on. Sam always had a dream, a goal, now he was lost.
Another shot.
Before Sam could answer any of the questions swirling in his head, Dean and Cas snuck into the house quietly. They wore stupid smiles on their faces and their hair and clothes were more rumpled then when they left. The couple looked genuinely happy. Dean’s smile was soft and his eyes were bright.
Whatever Sam did, he wasn’t going to cut Dean out of his life again. He didn’t know what he wanted, he just knew he wanted to be there to witness and contribute to his brother’s happiness.
“Hey, how was your night?” Sam asked.
“Better than yours.” Dean smirked, but he looked worryingly at the whiskey Sam had sitting in front of him. “I see you didn’t fall victim to the beauty parlor game again.”
“Nope, I got to watch Lilo and Stitch for the hundredth time and play a card game.” Sam sipped at his refilled glass.
Cas and Dean shared a look Sam chose to ignore. “I’ll be up stairs in a bit, honey.” Dean kissed Cas’ cheek and the dark haired man went upstairs while Dean leaned across the counter opposite of Sam.
“You found my secret stash.” Dean said, grabbing the whiskey bottle and a glass for himself.
“It was above the fridge, Dean.” Sam snorted. “It wasn’t in Fort Knox.”
“Hey, above the fridge to an eight year old is practically Fort Knox.”
“Right, cause that worked when we were that age.” Sam rolled his eyes and smiled.
“That’s right, Dad hid the candy from you in the top shelves of motel rooms.” Dean laughed. It was quiet for a while. “What’s eatin’ you?”
Sam sighed. “Just thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.” Dean poked Sam’s ribs.
“It’s nothing.” Sam downed another shot.
“Naw, come on, dude.” Dean poked Sam again.
Sam thought for a moment. He then refilled his whiskey glass and thought again. “What are you going to do after this?”
“After what?”
“The Yellow Eyed Demon, my visions.” Sam downed his…somethingth shot. “Are you going to keep hunting?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” Dean scratched at the back of his neck. Then he got up and grabbed his own glass to pour himself some whiskey. “I…probably. I can’t imagine quitting, but I won’t do as much as we do now for sure.”
“Yeah.” Sam stared into his empty glass.
“You’re going back to Stanford, yeah?” Dean sipped at his glass.
“Uh, I-I really don’t know.”
“Come on, man.” Dean stared at him. “You gotta go back.”
“What, why?”
“Because-because It’s what you want.”
“How do you know what I want? I don’t even know what I want!”
“It wasn’t that long ago that you would do anything to get away from this.”
“No,” Sam shook his head, “I would have done anything to get away from Dad. I never wanted to get away from you.”
“Yeah, you did.” Dean snorted. “I was overbearing, controlling, I wasn’t always there-“
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam exclaimed. “You were always there for me, and yeah, sometimes I wanted you to back off, but that’s because I was an angry kid who wanted my own space.”
“Still.” Dean finished his whiskey. “Why aren’t you sure?”
“I don’t know, a lot has changed.” Sam began biting at his fingernails. “I’ve changed.”
“Whatever you decide, I’ll back you one hundred percent.” Dean slapped Sam’s back to cut at the weight of his statement.
“I know.” Sam put his glass aside. “Go away, now, get some sleep.”
“Oh, I’m not sleeping.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows as he stood. “I have a blowjob that I’m owed.”
“Eew, gross.” Sam gagged.
“Don’t stay up too late, bitch.” Dean patted Sam’s shoulder.
“Don’t be too loud, jerk.” Sam batted at Dean’s hand.
Sam watched his brother disappear up the stairs. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He really needed to go to bed. Sleep had been something that had been avoided. No matter how much his body needed sleep, Sam couldn’t help but drag his feet at the thought of it. Nightmares had been plaguing him since…well since forever but they had been more of a regular occurrence. He was not always sure if the terrors in his head were real or not.
A couple of weeks ago when they had been at Dean’s house Sam had had a nightmare of Emma being killed by a hell hound. Sam had woken up and gone into a panic attack. Thinking it was a vision, the next day they had all stayed locked indoors. Dean called the school saying Emma had an appointment and Cas and Dean had called their works and also gotten the day off. The rest of the day had been filled with movies and card games. It had taken until noon for Sam’s hands to stop shaking.
Sam sighed again. He felt a lot older than twenty-three. Sometimes he wondered if one of these days if he looked in the mirror and saw and old man looking back if he would even be surprised. Sam stood and put the whiskey back in the cabinet, washed his and Dean’s glasses, then made his way to his room.
Looking around, it looked the same since the first night he had spent in it. Sam hated the air mattress with a burning passion. The damn thing creaked every time he moved, his feet stuck out, and it always gave him a knot in the middle of his back. That being said, Sam would rather sleep in then the most comfortable motel bed.
Sam changed into sweats and a t shirt. He laid down and was prepared for a long night. One thing was grateful for was the thick walls and doors of the home. The last thing he wanted was the have to listen to whatever was going on in his brother’s bedroom.
The only sound was Sam’s breathing and the occasional creaking of the house. The ceiling was dark and nondescript. It wasn’t any good for distracting Sam from the perils of his head. Yet another sigh left Sam, a big one that started somewhere deep in his lungs. Plain and simple, Sam wasn’t natural. There was something wrong with him. Normal people didn’t have visions of other people’s deaths. He was tainted.
The ceiling didn’t protest against Sam’s ugly truth.
Another plain and simple truth however was that Sam couldn’t fix himself. He couldn’t purify himself, at least he hadn’t found a way to do so. Therefore there was nothing Sam could do about the matter, and as some school guidance counselor told him long ago, if you can’t control it, don’t upset yourself worrying over it. He couldn’t fix himself, but he could be grateful for the roof over his head and his family. Emma, Dean, Cas, and Bobby had his back.
Sam didn’t fall asleep for a long while. His eyes only just began to droop close as the sky was preparing for the sun to rise again. The silence of the house was pleasant though, at least for one night. Sam didn’t know what the other night would bring, or if it would be his last.