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Sam wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, and Mr. Buttons isn’t in his arms. He looks under the covers and turns this way and that, and finally he spots the bear on the floor beside his bed. He leans down to grab him and gives him a squeeze, half in apology, half in the need for comfort for himself.
Burying his face in the stuffed animal’s fur, he manages to calm himself down fairly soon. He’s gotten pretty good at doing that. He’s had seven months of practice. He doesn’t even need Dean most nights.
He’s about to go back to bed when he hears scratching outside his window. Startling, he turns his head towards the source of the sound, only to see a little cat with light gray fur standing on his windowsill.
Sam hesitates for a moment before carefully setting Mr. Buttons down on his bed and approaching the window. The cat tilts its head at Sam and gently paws at the glass pane. Sam, in an action that probably isn’t the smartest, unlatches the window and slides it upwards.
The cat comes inside, bringing the nice summer breeze with it, and stands on the inner windowsill. It seems friendly enough. Polite, even.
“Hi, baby,” Sam murmurs, the pet name leaving his mouth automatically. This must be what Dean sees when he looks at him. Slowly, Sam reaches out and pets behind the cat’s ear. “Where’s your mama, huh?”
“Meow,” says the cat.
“Mine too,” Sam says quietly. He continues petting the little guy. “My father’s no good either. But I got a real nice big brother... You don’t have anyone, do you?”
“Meow.”
“I’m sorry.” He scratches the cat real good, hoping to be comforting. “You hungry, buddy?”
“Meow.”
Sam scoops the little guy up into his arms, surprised at how willing she is to be touched. It’s a dangerous world out there, one that this stray cat has no doubt experienced, despite the fact that Sam is pretty sure she’s just a baby. Maybe it recognizes Sam as a kindred spirit—someone she can trust.
One armed, Sam closes the window and makes sure he locks it again—he can never be too careful—before leaving his bedroom. He takes the cat into his and Dean’s kitchen and begins rummaging for something to feed it. The effort seems worth it tonight. Sam has a responsibility; the cat chose him.
After finding eggs in the fridge, and making a quick google search to confirm that it’s safe, Sam sets the cat, who’s such an obedient little guy, down on the counter and does his best to make scrambled eggs. He doesn’t often cook because of his eating thing, but he’s seem Dean do it plenty of times. He manages without starting a fire, and he thinks he does a good job.
When the eggs are done, Sam lets the cat eat straight out of the pan to make it easier on himself. The little guy scarfs it all down. She must’ve been starving. “Good girl,” Sam says, petting the cat on the head. The cat, in response, purrs and nuzzles Sam’s hand.
Before Sam can dwell on how good that makes him feel about himself, Dean enters the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Hey,” he mumbles.
“Hey. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No. Your, uh, friend there did,” Dean says softly, because he’s still sleepy. He’s wearing a big shirt and sweatpants that belong to Sam. “What’s it doin’ in here?”
Sam protectively picks the cat up, holding her in his arms. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t have any diseases or anything like that, which is why he’s so comfortable carrying her. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. “She was hungry.”
“Right, of course,” Dean says, but he doesn’t sound like he gets it. It’s always been known that Sam is the more sensitive of the two Winchesters. “It’s just, uh, you know I’m allergic, don’t you, kiddo?”
“I don’t see you sneezing. Maybe you’re not allergic to her.”
“Right,” Dean says, dragging out the word, not unkindly. “Wouldn’t that be convenient for you?”
Sam frowns. “You’re not sneezing,” he repeats.
“I’m not sneezing.” Dean yawns. “I dunno, maybe you’re right. But get it out of the house before morning, baby. Please.” With that, he leaves the kitchen and goes back to his room.
As much as Dean acts like a parent sometimes—unironic pet names, hello—that was a very sibling response. He didn’t yell or get angry or act like he was the boss. He just calmly and respectfully asked for what he wanted.
Still, Sam most certainly will not obey Dean’s wishes. The poor little cat has nowhere else to go.
He washes the pan and goes back to his room, the cat in his arms. He sits down on his bed next to Mr. Buttons, placing the cat down in front of him. “You need a place to sleep, huh?” Sam asks quietly.
The cat stretches and lays down on the bed, which answers that question.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Sam pets the cat and lets her sleep on top of the covers. He and Mr. Buttons sleep underneath them.
Luckily, Dean doesn’t have work the next morning. That means he doesn’t stop by to say goodbye. That means he doesn’t see the cat that’s still in Sam’s bedroom.
Instead of Sam getting woken up by Dean, he gets woken up by the cat stepping on his stomach. “Morning, sweetheart,” Sam whispers, petting her gray fur. He has to whisper because Dean’s already up. He’s probably eaten breakfast by now.
Sam decides to name the cat Angelica. He’ll call her Jelly for short.
Sam kisses her on the forehead and lets her lay down next to Mr. Buttons as he gets out of bed. He has the motivation to change his clothes, so he puts on a fresh pair of pajamas. (He said change his clothes, not change his personality.)
Next, he goes to the bathroom to brush his hair and maybe wash his face. He finds Dean in there, door wide open, brushing his teeth. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” Dean says, muffled, as he looks at him in the mirror.
Sam smiles because that’s exactly what he told Jelly this morning. “G’morning.” He stands next to Dean and picks up his hairbrush. As he fixes his bedhead, he informs, “I had a nightmare last night.”
Dean spits in the sink and turns on the tap to wash his toothbrush. “Oh yeah? Not too bad, I hope.”
“Not bad,” Sam confirms. “Don’t even remember it anymore.”
“That’s good.” Dean stands up straight and looks at himself in the mirror. He fixes his hair, even though it’s already perfect. After a moment, his eyes meet Sam’s in the mirror. “You get rid of that cat like I asked you to, angel?”
“Of course,” Sam lies. He’s not so good at doing that, but he thinks he pulls it off.
Dean thinks so too. “Good,” he says, entirely trusting. He’s done with using the bathroom, but he sticks around to talk to Sam until he’s also done. Done at the sink, at least.
“I need to piss, get out.”
“Jeez. There’s no need to be rude about it,” Dean says lightheartedly as he leaves.
The rest of the morning passes by uneventfully. Sam only realizes how stupid his non existent plan is when he and Dean eat the lunch Dean made for them. It’s not like he can sneak food into his bedroom for Jelly without Dean noticing.
He eats slowly, like normal, which gives him time to think. Eventually, he comes to the upsetting conclusion that, for Jelly’s safety, he has to come clean. “Dean.”
Dean’s mouth is full so he just looks up at Sam to indicate that he has his attention.
“I lied earlier. The cat is in my bedroom.”
Dean swallows and palms his forehead. “Sammy…”
“Please, Dean, you have to let me keep her. She’s an orphan, and she’s homeless. And she trusts me. I’ll take care of her, I promise.”
“Sam.”
“You’re not even allergic to her. Please, Dean, please,” Sam begs.
Dean rubs his temple. “I don’t know if…” He pauses as he meets Sam’s eyes. He seems to be choosing his words very carefully. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“Why not?” Sam asks, his voice high pitched and whiny and sad, which he hates. It makes him feel childish.
Dean takes a deep breath. “You can barely take care of yourself most days,” he says softly.
Sam knows at once how true that is.
“I’m not trying to upset you,” Dean continues. “Or be mean, or anything like that. I just don’t know if you can handle it, sweetheart… Do you think I’m wrong?”
Sam looks down. He knows Dean isn’t wrong, and that really hurts. Jelly needs him, and Sam can’t. He knows he can’t. He knows he wont be able to.
“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean rests his hand palm facing up on the table, right on the edge of Sam’s field of vision, offering it to him.
Sam takes it. He covers his eyes with his other hand, trying not to cry. Only a few tears escape before he manages to pull himself together.
“You have to promise we’ll get her to a good home,” Sam mumbles, removing his hand from his eyes so he can see Dean.
“Promise,” Dean says. He squeezes Sam’s hand and lets go. “Finish eating and we’ll see what we can do, okay?”
Sam does what Dean says this time. He feels stupid.
After eating, Sam goes to his room to grab Jelly while Dean washes the dishes. He finds her lying with her head on Mr. Buttons.
“Hi, Jelly,” Sam softly says. He sits on the edge of the bed and coaxes her into his lap. Once she’s there, he pets her nice and slow. “I’m really sorry, but you can’t stay with me. But we’re gonna find you a nice home, okay?”
Jelly doesn’t respond, obviously. She doesn’t understand English.
Sam picks her up and carries her to the living room where Dean is waiting. They sit side by side on the couch, Jelly in Sam’s lap.
“Lemme get a pic of her,” Dean says, holding his phone. “I’ll post on my story, see if someone we know wants her. Someone we trust.”
Sam nods, holding Jelly up to the camera. He asks Dean to show him the photo. “Send me that…” he mumbles. She looks adorable.
“Sure.” It’s silent for a moment while Dean starts making the story. “What’s her name?” he asks, typing out the text to explain what’s going on. Of course he knows that Sam already named her.
“Angelica,” he answers, petting her fur. “Jelly for short.”
“Really?” Dean asks, looking up from his phone.
“What?” Sam asks defensively.
“Jelly? Why would you call her Jelly? It’s just… the nickname ‘Angel’ is right there.”
Sam’s blinks as he looks down at the cat in his lap. He knows that Angel would’ve been a better nickname. But… “You call me that sometimes. I didn’t want us to get confused,” he mumbles.
“Oh. Oh, Sam.” Dean sets his phone down. “You really thought you’d get to keep her, huh? You thought that’d be an issue.”
“Don’t have to rub it in.”
“No, I’m not,” Dean quickly reassures. “I’m sorry. I just… Look, maybe…”
Sam looks up at him, not even daring to hope. “Maybe…?”
Dean presses his lips into a thin line. “Maybe we could work something out.”
Sam’s mouth smiles without his permission. “Like what?”
Sam can tell Dean is trying not to return his smile. “Maybe I could take care of her for you,” he says, evasively looking away.
“Really?” Sam all but screams. “You’d do that?”
Dean shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Maybe.”
Sam lets out a screech. He holds Jelly up to his face. “Did you hear that, Jelly?”
“Meow,” Jelly says.
Sam hugs her before setting her down on the couch. He hugs Dean then. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Okay, okay! Don’t make me regret my decision,” Dean says, trying to push Sam off him. Sam doesn’t budge, so he resigns himself to his fate. Sam knows he could totally push him off if he really wanted to; it was all just for show.
“You’re the greatest,” Sam says into his neck. It was true. Dean didn’t like cats, but he was going to do this to make Sam happy.
“Yeah, whatever. But you’re gonna help, when you can. And we’re taking her to the vet today to make sure she doesn’t have rabies or something.”
“Deal.”
“Meow.”