Amy didn't get enough screen time! Who agrees with me? Anyways, this is a bit of a 'what if...' story in which Sam agreed to run away with Amy. I'm not sure how well it turned out, but I hope you like it anyways. Reviews are life, they get me to write. There's that little white box down at the bottom of the screen? Click it! Put words in it! It gives me a fuzzy warm feeling whenever you do. And let me know if you want anymore oneshots in this universe, because they're fun to write.

I don't own Supernatural. If I did, there is a whole laundry list of characters that never would have died.

Sam's brown eyes eyes met Amy's green (with the pupils maybe just a bit thinner than they should have been) and for a moment possibilities flashed in front of his gaze.

On the one side was whiskey and wheels and shouted commands and the family that had never really been a family, it was an army, and a constant craving for a better life, a normal life.

On the other side was a runaway, sneakers and kisses and freedom and Amy and friendship and love and possibilities, and a soft smile crept over his lips as he took her hand.

They were both already packed, both ready to run at any time by virtue of the constant movement that had defined them up until that point, and by the time a certain piece-of-crap Impala pulled up in front of the house and the two remaining Winchesters jumped out the place was empty but for a sprawled corpse with extended claws and a silver knife through its back.

The two children were already long gone.


Freedom was everything he thought it would be.

It was hungry and tiring and sometimes painful but they were living, living their own lives, making their own ways instead of following parents they hated into lives they hated, hand in hand and heart in heart. It wasn't easy, sometimes it was unspeakably hard, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

When they were thirteen, a man with angry eyes and a leering smile cornered Amy in an alley and held a blade to her throat, informing her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to scream or she'd stop real quick, see, and when Sam found them she was sobbing with bloody lips over a dead body slowly leaking from the ice-pick hole behind one ear and all he did was fire a gun into the wound to obliterate the evidence and then hold her while she cried.


When they were both sixteen and drunk on half a bottle of stolen whiskey, they ended up curled naked in a cheap and dirty hotel room between unwashed sheets, happier then they'd ever been.

They made it a regular occurrence.


She still needed pituitary glands, so they raided crypts. When they were nineteen, the string of disturbed bodies and missing brains came to the attention of John and Dean Winchester, who had long since decided that Sam Winchester had died if only to put their nightmares to rest, who had never known that there were two kitsune.

They thundered into town on the heels of their wayward son and spent several days fruitlessly seeking out ghouls before they noticed that it was the pituitary glands that were missing and both flashed back to the case where Sammy had disappeared.

They both remembered it vividly. They turned the town upside down, but found neither hide nor hair of a certain Japanese fox.

Amy Pond and Sam Winchester curled up in a motel room, taking shelter until the storm that was his past blew by, which it eventually did. Until then, they found ways to entertain themselves.


They didn't want a white wedding because neither of them was clean enough. They were both stained with blood and memories and it felt dishonest.

When they were twenty they got married in Vegas by a ten-dollar priest and spent their honeymoon in a low-rent casino, hustling card games and letting the profits pile up until they were thrown out on their asses. They went back to a no-tell motel and kept each other wide awake all night long.

It was perfect.


When they were twenty-two, they started talking about the future, really talking, and realized with a bit of a start that they both wanted kids, but since Amy didn't want to pass her curse on to an innocent child they wound up adopting an adorable dark-skinned baby boy named Jacob. The formerly carefree teenagers settled down, to both of their surprise, because while they'd always wanted freedom they'd wanted a normal life more, with a house and a job and a child. She became a mortician, he became a lawyer. They got an apartment, then a real house once he'd finished law school and begun his practice in ernest. Became a defense attorney. A public defender, at first.


When John Winchester died, possessed by a demon and shot dead by his one remaining son, Sam Winchester had no idea. If he had known, he would likely have spared a moment or so to mourn but secretly be filled with relief at the loosening of the worried knot that had been tied in his stomach since he ran away, the fear that his dad would track him down and unload a silver bullet into Amy.

Dean was left all alone in this world, drinking heavy and driving fast, and one day he almost hit a couple walking across the street with a toddler swinging between them, and both Sam and Dean felt a twinge of familiarity when their eyes met but as the elder mumbled drunken apologies and the younger awkwardly accepted them they were just a well-off lawyer and his wife and son and a drunk driver in a very familiar car.