Chapter Text
Sam didn’t mean to run into the dog. Of course he didn’t.
He’d been on the run ever since Dick Roman got blown up by his martyr of a brother and their angel best friend, Cas. The stupid assholes didn’t tell him they’d just up and explode with that dick of a leviathan, leaving Sam to piece back together his suddenly shattered world.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that he’d run the dog over on a Tuesday. Nothing good ever happened on Tuesdays.
Luckily he hadn’t been looped into the second worst groundhog day of his life (the first would always be watching his brother die over and over due to a cowardly archangel that thought he was doing good by showing the brothers they couldn’t escape their “roles”).
He screeched to a halt and checked the dog over, realized it was still breathing but probably had some broken bones and rushed the dog to the nearest vet. That was where he met Amelia.
Good things didn’t happen to Winchesters. Or at least they didn’t stay good for long. Amelia was pretty and sophisticated and cared a lot about animals and Sam was pretty sure he had to be dreaming. Any moment now, he would wake up back in that hellhole, with his dead brother’s body and his dead angel best friend laying around him. He’d wake up and watch a frantic looking Kevin being taken by Crowley all over again. He’d scream and try and reach out and he’d always be too late trying to grab the kid’s reaching arm.
Good things just didn’t happen to Winchesters and Amelia was one of them. Sam didn’t deserve peace and quiet and safety after the long raging war he’d been thrown into since John lost Mary to a fire set by demons when Sam was just a baby.
He told himself that if this was the only good thing that would happen to him in his life, then he had to take it. He had to keep it and cherish it every day he was alive. It was better than being alone and moping, wishing like hell that his brother was still with him.
It was better than giving into the rage and despair, the urge to just set the whole world ablaze because of the aching hole in his chest that Dean’s death left. Like half of his soul had been ripped out, his heart shattered into so many pieces he was sure nothing could put it back together again. Amelia was an anchor, something tangible that kept him from running to every spellbook that promised the return of dead brothers if only he sold his soul to a demon.
“What is it, Riot? What’s up, boy?” Sam asked one day as he walked his dog through the neighborhood he now lived in. It has only been a few months but it felt like he lived here all his life. Riot had stopped and was growling ahead of him.
Sam blinked, looking around. He didn’t see anyone but Riot was standing still, hackles raised. His hunter instincts were on alert now. Usually dogs had a good sense of the supernatural. He remembered he and Dean would use the dogs nearby when on a case as a warning for something that might be hidden from the human eye. Dogs not only made great companions but they were good indicators of the supernatural and Sam felt safe around Riot.
The dog continued to growl and that was when Sam heard it. It was faint but there. The rustling of fabric, like someone was trying to conceal themselves within the shrubbery. Sam tensed his body as he shifted to the sound.
“I know you’re there,” he said loudly, “so you might as well show yourself.”
The sound stopped abruptly and Sam took a hesitant step back but Riot stood his ground, still on alert. His ears perked up as he glanced around. Sam was unnerved by the sudden silence.
Then suddenly a man stumbled into view and Sam nearly gasped at the familiar trenchcoat. It was dirty and ripped but the man wearing it…Sam would know him anywhere. He jerked up and Sam stumbled back in surprise. The eyes were blue and blank but achingly familiar. Castiel. The angel. Their angel.
“Cas?” Sam questioned slowly, trying to take in the sudden sight of his friend. Cas didn’t seem to register that Sam had even addressed him. He stared at Sam with no recognition, his mouth forming a frown. “Cas, are you okay?” Sam tried again, hesitating only for a moment, before trying to reach out to touch the angel. That seemed to prompt the angel into action.
Cas’s eyes flashed before he jerked back and growled.
Sam felt his eyes widen but stopped reaching for him. “It’s me, Cas,” he said, trying to straighten up. How could Cas not recognize him? He tried to ignore the way Riot was now growling and snarling back at the angel. Cas still didn’t say anything, baring his teeth at him instead.
Sam didn’t understand what was happening but another movement caught his eye before he could question it further. Cas shifted, holding his arms protectively against his chest. No…there was something pressed against his chest. Tufts of dark, brown hair on the back of a small head, belonging to a smaller body. Sam couldn’t see much because Cas was curling protectively against the bundle in his arms but that small shift was enough, the boy turned his head a little, eyes still closed, seemingly in a fitful sleep. But Sam would know those freckles anywhere.
“Dean…?”