Hey, yeah...I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters, so...yeah
Sammy's First Hunt
Chapter 1 Sam Winchester
The Last Day
Wednesday, May 16, 1997
3:30 pm (15:00)
Sleepy Hollow, Colorado
It was the last day of middle school. My eighth grade graduation had taken place the previous day, so it was just a free day and naturally, we hadn't had anything productive to do in any of our classes. Well, unless you consider a multitude of pizza parties, a couple of bad PG-rated movies, and a few tearful goodbyes productive, then yeah, we had a pretty unproductive last day. My best-friend, Alan Singer, and I were riding the bus home rather than convincing Alan 's old-man to drive us home, which we wouldn't have even bothered with if it hadn't have been for the pact we'd made on the first day of eight grade. You see, in our agreement, we'd promised, that no matter how many kids were riding home with their parents, that we'd be among the few kids that actually took the bus home. Now, both Alan and I were very aware that this was a waste of our time, but, I assure you, we had a method for our madness. You see, to Alan and I, it felt only fitting to depart John F. Kennedy Middle School for the last time the very same way we'd arrived on our first day of sixth grade, almost three years before. Yeah, I know, we're both sentimental bastards (as my brother puts it), but hey, it's the way we are, what can you do?
Anyway, so Alan and I were talking, excitedly, about stuff like how awesome it was that we were going to be freshman in high school, dating super-attractive high school girls, and the possibility of meeting a bunch of cool, new people to hang out with…you know… completely unimportant things that seemed way more important to us then.
"...I mean, yeah, Rebecca was pretty, but she had nothing on Jessica Moore. Now, she was something else!" I argued.
"Speaking of Jess…I…uh…" Alan stuttered, blushing as he scratched his head nervously. "I asked her out yesterday, after graduation,"
My eyes widened. Jess was without a doubt, the most attractive girl I'd ever set my eyes on. Her long soft, wavy blonde hair fell about a foot past her shoulders, and always carried the subtle, sweet fragrance of her scented shampoo. She had a long, thin torso that curved inward above her hips, lean, tan legs that (judging by the exceedingly risqué shorts that she frequently wore) she wasn't afraid to show off to every horny-ass thirteen year-old boy at school, and beautiful green eyes that twinkled brightly in the sunlight when you talked to her. Like I said, she was pretty attractive, right? Yeah, well Jess's "attractiveness" came with consequences; what I'm saying is that girl had a bitch streak the size of Kansas and an ego to match. For these reasons, I was understandably surprised that Alan had mustered up the courage to ask her out. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the guy, he's like a brother to me, but there's no way in hell a girl like Jess would've even considered dating a guy like Alan . I'm not saying that it was fair to him that the only girl he liked was a complete bitch, and I am certainly not implying that he didn't deserve a girl with looks that matched Jessica's, but things like that don't just happen, especially when you were scrawny, brainy, and short, like Alan had been. I mean, the two talked every now and again, and were on friendly terms with each other, but the likelihood of her agreeing to go out with him was low. Lower, actually, considering that the only type of guy Jess went for, was your average, idiotic, prep whose only talent was swinging a bat, or throwing around a football, and, Alan Singer didn't exactly fit comfortably into that profile.
"You did what?" I asked incredulously.
Alan nodded sheepishly.
I let out a chuckle of disbelief and patted Alan on the back, proudly. "Well, I'll be damned! I'm proud, dude. Even I wouldn't have had the courage to do something like that…anyway, yeah, that's great, man!" I congratulated, having a new-found respect for the kid. "How did she react? What did she say?"
Alan's uncomfortable look confirmed my suspicions. She looked surprised at first, but then she laughed at me and gave me this "you can't be serious" look. Then, when she realized I wasn't joking, she blushed and gave me her usual "beat-around-the-bush" rejection bullshit…oh yeah…and then she bolted in the other direction, fast as she could without running, like she was being stalked or something," he explained with a shrug.
I sighed. That rejection had been worse than I'd originally thought. What bothered me more so than the rejection itself, was Alan playing it off as though it were nothing to him, when I knew that it was obviously bothering the hell out of him. "Ouch. That's kind of harsh," I frowned. "I thought you two were friends."
"We were friends," he corrected. "Not anymore though. I heard from some idjit that she told him to tell me that she didn't want to speak to me anymore."
"Really?" I asked him, shocked at Jess's horrible reaction. He nodded "Damn, I'm sorry, dude. That really sucks. Shit, that's awful."
"Yeah, well, whatever. It's no big deal...doesn't bother me, anyway. I think she was gonna say yes, but I had to try. I've had a crush on her since last summer, and I've been trying to work up the balls to ask her out since Christmas," he explained. "When I finally got my shot, I sure as hell couldn't just give up. No, I had to take it. Wouldn't have been able to live it down if Id'a wussied out."
I didn't believe that lie for a second. "So, let me get this straight… when you finally asked out the girl you liked, after forever, she laughs in your face, says no, runs away, ah, and on top of that, ends whatever "friendship" you two had…and you're not even a little pissed off about it?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow in doubt. If even hearing his story made me want to kill the bitch, there was no way he was completely okay with everything that had happened.
"You know what? Yeah, I'm pissed, okay? You happy, Sam?" he said angrily, dropping his falsely-calm composure. "A fuckin whole semester of my life, I wasted on that dumb bitch. Do you know how long I waited to time it just right? The bitch either had a boyfriend," I didn't answer. "Forever, Sam, forever!" he answered, before sighing. "I don't get it, dude."
"You don't get what?"
"You know what? I just don't understand why she can't just stop being a bitch for once and give me a chance to actually prove my worth. The three of us…we used to hang out in sixth grade all the time. If I remember correctly, she practically begged us to be her friends. I guess none of that really matters to her cause' the second she got "cooler" friends, she just ran off with them and forgot about us. Why? What do those other guys have that we don't? What do they have that I don't? I may not be a stud, but I'm a hell of a better choice than those assholes she likes to drool over. If I were her boyfriend, I would've treated that bitch like a queen, rather than like arm candy, like I'm sure she's used to, and I sure as hell wouldn't have been stupid enough to cheat on her like that last guy did," Alan paused, losing the fire in his eyes. "I just don't see what is so wrong about giving me a chance…is there something wrong with me, Sammy?" he asked in a hurt voice, before switching his gaze to the floor.
I shook my head. "No," I said firmly. "There's nothing wrong with you, Alan. There's something wrong with her,"
Alan looked up at me in surprise. "Wait…what?"
"I said, there's something wrong with Jess, not you," I paused, thinking of a good way to make him feel better without sounding too cliché. "Listen, you're a genius, dude, you're the nicest guy I know, and the best friend I've ever had. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, and whoever thinks otherwise is an idiot. It doesn't matter what some stupid girl thinks about you. Trust me, one day, she'll look back and realize that she missed out, big time. And if she's smart, then she'll show up at your door in ten years, on her knees, begging for you to give her another shot."
"And, what if she doesn't?"
I shrugged. "Then she doesn't. It'll be her loss. Look, there will be a girl that realizes how great of a person you are. Maybe it's Jess, maybe it's not. But until then, just keep being you. Trust me, dude, that should be good enough for any girl out there."
Alan blushed at the compliment, before thanking me and falling silent. A minute or two Alan broke the silence with a random chuckle.
"What?" I asked.
"I just realized how weird I was around her this week. I bet it had something to do with how quickly she rejected me."
I laughed. Alan had acted very strange that week. For one, he hardly left Jess's side, and two, I even caught him staring at her a couple of times. In fact, Jess had called me for the first time since we stopped talking months ago, just to tell me to tell him to back off. Yeah, not so nice of her, right? As much as I hated to admit it, the girl had a point; Alan could be a bit clingy, perhaps even to the point where he could be misconstrued as creepy. And despite how much I didn't want to, I had to help him with his issue of coming on too strong, even if it had to be Jess who brought it to my attention. It would be important to him later on when he had future crush. "Yeah, I've been meaning to talk with you about that. Let me give you some advice…you…need to tone down your displays of affection; just a smidge."
"What do you mean?" he frowned.
"Well, the way you followed that poor girl all over God's creation, and giving her creepy stares every time she looked at you, like you were some sort of desperate, lovesick puppy…well, let's just say…it won't help you much when it comes to girls. Actually, think it scares them a little bit," I said, hoping that what I said didn't come out harsher than I'd meant it to.
"You get that backwards sense of tact from your brother," Alan laughed. "And I didn't think I wasn't acting that creepy. Was I, really?"
I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey! Don't compare me to Dean! I did nothing to deserve such an insult," I protested, laughing. "Well, yeah, creepy, desperate, slightly obnoxious…need I say more?"
Alan rolled his eyes. "Jackass," he teased. "Yeah, well I guess that's good to know for next time, right?"
I laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night…speaking of girlfriends…besides spending time with Amy, there aren't many things that I'm gonna miss about Kennedy."
Alan nodded. "I agree. Personally, I'm glad we don't have to go back. I've just…I've had it up to here with that place…enough is enough…you know?" He fell silent for awhile, before grinning darkly. "Those poor incoming sixth graders… Heh… they have no idea what they're getting themselves into."
I rolled my eyes at Alan's dramatics. "C'mon, Alan. Don't be such a drama queen. I hated being stuck in those boring classrooms just as much as the next guy... but it wasn't as bad as you make it sound,"
He rolled his eyes again. "Hey, I may be overdramatic, but at least I know how I feel about it. With you, it's like…it sucks, it's amazing, it sucks, it's wasn't that bad…I mean, Jesus make up your mind!"
"Come on, it wasn't all that bad. I mean… I can think of a few things that made school a little more… well… interesting," I said, thinking of the sexually stimulating fifty minutes I got to see Jess show off her beautiful curves every morning when we played volleyball during first period gym class right at the end of the last grading period. I was thinking, also, of when the super-douche, Jack Paisley, broke his arm last semester in front of everyone during an arm wrestle he was having with a friend and, of course, my personal favorite moment of that year…watching, dumbfounded, as Alan took out a kid who was twice his size named Jerry Parker in less than two minutes after the guy tried to beat up on Alan's little brother.
"Are you referring to your relationship with that Becky Rosen chick last semester?" he asked, not bothering to hide his obvious amusement.
To say it mildly, that comment definitely shook me from my thoughts. "Her? Oh, god no!" I said, disgusted. "That's not what I meant, Alan! Oh god…not at all. Becky had…some…uh… issues,"
"Issues? Trust me, Sammy, that girl had more than your average issues," Alan said seriously. "She was freaking buckets of crazy, Sam! She wouldn't know sane if it danced naked on top of her bed."
I glared at him. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Sammy, it makes me sound like a little kid. As for Becky, I don't know... insane? I wouldn't go that far. She wasn't the most well-put-together person but…okay, yeah she was crazy," I concluded.
"Oh, okay. You don't like Sammy, huh? Hmm … how do you feel about S-man?" he asked, lips twitching in amusement.
"No! That just makes me sound like a douche-bag, which isn't any…" I sighed. "We've been over this. Just stick with Sam. I like my name. It's cool,"
"If you say so…"
I rolled my eyes.
"So, I forgot why whatsername…um, Becky, was crazy. Can you remind me why again?" Alan asked, failing to keep the amusement off his face.
I looked at him in suspicion. "Didn't I tell you? Wait, no, I didn't just tell you. I called you that night to ask if your parents could give me a ride home from that horror fest in the woods,"
"Yeah, but I enjoy hearing how right I was," he said mischievously.
"What… ugh… I'm the victim here. Haven't you milked that sordid affair enough?"
"Aww…look who's trying to sound smart,"
"Screw you! I thought it sounded pretty intelligent. You're the one who told me to start using bigger words in the first place,"
"Yeah, dude, I told you to use bigger words…not try to sound British,"
I slapped my forehead in mock-frustration.
"Hey, don't do that too much. Those are brain cells you can't afford to lose,"
"Whatever. No, but seriously, when are you gonna drop the whole Becky thing anyway?"
"You don't understand dude, I am never going to let you live that one down. I mean, think back to everyone we've ever hung out with... Now, out of all those people, how many normal girls do we know that date 22 year old guys, or form a cult to worship and sacrifice pigeons in the woods? Then, on top of that, how many of them decide that all of the crazy worshiping shit is normal enough to bring their boyfriend with them to join in on the fun?" He said, before doubling over with laughter.
I shrugged. He had me there. "Okay, first of all, they were crows. Second of all, when she said, 'hang out in the woods,' I thought I was gonna get some action or something. The only thing I wound up getting was a shit-load of crow guts splattered all over my new Vans. And thirdly, that is no joking matter. That whole relationship was horrific. Haven't you ever wondered if there's a reason why her parents are paying for my therapist?"
"Details, details. Besides, the whole therapy part doesn't stop it from be hilarious dude. In fact, it makes it funnier. Oh, by the way, how did you find out about the twenty-two year old boyfriend guy anyway?"
"She introduced me at the gathering. Big guy…really big guy… scary-looking big guy," I shuddered.
Alan let out a bark of laughter, "More than scary, the way I heard it. From what Becky's friends told me, you practically ran out of there."
"I did! You would've too! He was like 6ft 9, covered in blood, and carrying a friggin butcher's knife. What would you have thought?"
"Well I would've hauled ass out of there too, but that doesn't mean I can't tease you about it."
I sighed in exasperation, "Alan, I don't get your logic… but alright whatever."
Alan would always find his way onto that subject. He had warned me about Becky before I'd asked her out. He said that she was into some sketchy shit and was known to 'sleep around' (well as much as you can when you're thirteen). As usual, I didn't take him seriously, and wound up bathing in a gallon of crow's blood because of it. For the rest of that year I'd been the butt of jokes all over Kennedy Middle School. It didn't really bother me though… I knew I had kind of deserved it. Well, as Alan said when I told him (after laughing at me and rubbing it in my face) shit happens! Truthfully, I should have known to listen to him; call it his sixth sense, but he was normally right about things like that, because if there's one thing that Alan Singer knows well, it's people. That was why it was so difficult to lie to him, because he was always able to tell when someone wasn't being truthful; the kid had always been like that. He had always known what kind of person someone was after as little as one conversation with them. In fact, I usually would've asked him his opinion about someone new I met before getting into any serious relationships, and he'd never been wrong before. Even if the person seemed really cool at first, Alan could see through that, even in spite of how they acted initially. One day, when I asked him how he was able to do such things, he explained that it all had to do with excellent perception of something that would seem otherwise trivial, such as body language. For example, if the person is shifting around and avoiding eye-contact, he/she could possibly either be a compulsive liar or extremely shy or nervous. Of course, as Alan explained to me, there are always exceptions to every rule, but no matter how hard I tried to see things the way he did, I was hopeless at it, and it would always wind up to fuck me over in the end.
Alan and I had been friends since the day we'd met in first grade. At the time, neither of us had any friends and we were both pretty desperate to have someone to hang out with. My dad, my brother, and I had moved away from Lawrence, Kansas after my mom died in some fire five and a half before settling down in Sleepy Hollow (no not that Sleepy Hollow). During that five and a half years, we had been moving from motel to motel, never staying in one place for too long, my dad, John, always looking over his shoulder as if someone was after us. In that time, I'd almost forgotten how to talk to kids, so I was naturally, very shy and didn't get along well with other kids my age. Alan, however, was a different story. He'd been living in Sleepy Hollow all his life, but let me tell you, that didn't help him end up in a better place socially than where I was. You see, he was labeled as an outcast for being one of the smartest kids in the first grade. On top of that, Alan was quite a bit smaller than other kids his age, which made him a natural target for bullies. In fact, before I met him, Alan was picked on by a group of third and fourth graders, who would kindly beat the crap out of him every day after school, and the worst part about it, no one took action to try to make the bullies stop. Although, I suppose if Alan didn't tell any adults about his tormentors, it would be very difficult to make them stop, well… tormenting him. When I asked him why he never told anyone about the playground bullies, Alan explained to me that he was too afraid that they would've pounded him if he had said anything. On top of that, even if he wanted to tell anyone, he couldn't. Alan didn't have anyone to talk to at school, because everyone that wasn't a teacher hated him. As for the teachers, they were about as comforting as a brutal plane crash, so Alan avoided them at all costs. And as for Alan's Dad, Bobby Singer, well, he probably would've killed the kids or something, so Alan kept his mouth shut with Mr. Singer as well. He lived like this…always cutting himself off from others, until one day, a couple of weeks before the school year ended. This is when Alan and I met. It was during recess on a warm Friday morning…
Friday, April 13, 1990
Sleepy Hollow, Colorado
Rutherford B. Hays Elementary School
11:02 a.m.
Large beads of sweat rolled down my face due to exposure to the dry, staggering heat of the school cafeteria. Granted, it was always hot in the cafeteria due to the fact that Principal Meyers was too cheap to pay for good-quality A C, but that day it was at least ten degrees hotter than usual. Apparently, (call it irony) the air conditioner wasn't working properly…big surprise. I was fanning my face with a few napkins I'd grabbed from one of the dispensers after getting my lunch. It didn't help much with the heat, but hey, at least it did something. Finally, giving up on fanning myself, I dropped the napkins on my tray and brought the first spoonful of the cafeteria's lasagna to my lips. I gagged at the taste, the rubbery cheese refusing to go down my throat. After attempting to discreetly spit out the lasagna into a napkin, I glanced over at a boy sitting a few seats to my left. He had plate of chicken nuggets and French fries. Lucky, I thought, before turning my gaze back down at my own plate wearing a scowl.
"I knew I should've gotten the chicken nuggets," I muttered bitterly. My stomach rumbled. I groaned and got up to throw the revolting lasagna away, shuddering at the residual after-taste in my mouth. I inspected other trays, and saw no trace of the nasty-tasting lasagna on any of them. I sighed in frustration. Another day without a bite to eat…lovely, I thought.
I sat back down at the long table, my chocolate milk in hand. Well, I thought, at least the milk tastes good. I drained the small carton in seconds, relishing in the refreshing taste of the cool liquid going down my esophagus. I got up and threw the empty carton away before practically running out of the cafeteria doors to the playground at the bottom of a moderately steep hill. If I was lucky, I'd be able to get on one of the few empty swings.
No such luck. When I arrived at the swing set, some larger girl in pigtails was seated, gossiping with some small blonde girl. I rolled my eyes at the sight and walked over to a large oak tree that stood tall next to a chain-link fence, which separated us from the dangers of the outside world.
I took a seat under the tree and leaned back against the trunk. The bark was rough, even through the fabric of my shirt, but I didn't care. It was where I liked to hang out. It was quiet and I didn't have to worry about other kids and their stupidity, especially Julio Sanchez and his friends. I didn't like him, or any of them for that matter. I didn't like their humor and I didn't like the way they teased other kids. No, I didn't like them at all. I preferred keeping to myself, that way I wouldn't have to get mixed up with mean kids like them. It was the last thing I needed. As I sat there, leaning against the large oak tree, I started feeling tired. Then, before I knew it, I began struggling to keep my eyes open. You see, my older brother had kept me up late the night before, so I had gotten very little sleep.
Just as I closed my eyes and almost gave into my weariness, I heard a voice call, "Hey, kid!"
Dang, I thought. "What do you want?" I asked tiredly, not even bothering to open my eyes.
"Why are you sitting under an oak tree?" the boy asked awkwardly
"Because, I feel like it," I answered, not wanting to have a conversation.
"Can I sit with you?" he asked.
I opened my eyes, getting ready to tell the boy to go away, but stopped short. I knew this kid…from…he was in my class! I had never bothered to ask his name. Why would I have? He kept to himself a majority of the time, never speaking unless spoken to and never making eye-contact with anyone at all…it was easy to forget he was there. It was something he and I both had in common I examined the kid, seeing if I wanted to take a chance. The kid was tiny, shorter than me. He had short, black hair, brown eyes, and glasses, which gave him a studious look. He had a bright face, despite a few bruises I spotted on his cheeks. He was wearing a blue Old Navy t-shirt, a pair of old, faded blue jeans, and some grey Sketchers. He was giving me this look of desperation, eyes shifting back and forth from me to a group of older kids. I quickly got the message.
"Sure," I said, eyeing him carefully.
"What's your name?" he asked, smiling.
"Sam Winchester…yours?"
"Alan Singer, nice to meet you," he said, holding out a hand.
I shook it. "So, who are those guys over there?" I asked.
Alan looked at me uncomfortably. "Trouble," he said shortly.
"Why, what did they do?" I asked curiously.
He pointed to the bruises on his face.
"They did that?" I asked incredulously.
He nodded.
I was about to say something, but I was interrupted.
"Hey Singer," a voice called.
"C'mon let's go," Alan said, offering me a hand.
I took it and got to my feet, before looking around to see the group of older kids I saw earlier, a blonde boy leading them forward.
"Who's the kid, Singer?" the boy asked, gesturing to me. "You finally got yourself a friend?"
Alan was about to say something, but I cut him off before. "Yeah, he did," I said, stepping in front of Alan, who was pale and shaking. "Now, you leave him alone, you big jerk!"
"You hear that Michael? The shrimp says we should leave 'ol Ally alone…" the blonde boy said.
The brown haired boy, Michael, laughed. It was a laugh that sounded as if its only purpose was to taunt. "Not a chance buddy" he laughed, pushing Alan to the ground.
Alan landed with a whimper. "Hey!" I cried indignantly. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
Michael looked over at the blonde kid. "Oh no Rafael, the little shrimp's telling me to leave Alan alone," Michael said in mock-fear.
"I just said that, you dimwit," Rafael insulted, before turning to me. "You want to take his place, kid?"
"No! No, Rafael, please don't. He's sorry. He didn't know. Don't hurt him, please, he's my friend…" Alan begged, tears coming to his eyes.
I was certainly surprised that Alan was defending me. He had just met me, and he was willing to get beat up for me. I tried to thank him, but I was stopped by a fist colliding, hard, with my face. I fell to the ground, angry tears welling up at the corner of my eyes. I tried to get up, but when I got to my knees, Rafael sent a kick to my abdomen. It hit its mark and knocked the breath out of me, causing me to fall over again. I glanced over at Alan, who was begging Rafael to stop and gave him a grin. Rafael ignored him, and sent another kick my way. I was ready this time. I dodged his kick, and slammed my foot into his leg. He let out a cry and fell to the ground. Michael tried to kick as well, but I pulled the same move, and he wound up landing in the dirt next to Rafael, tears streaming down both of their faces.
With Alan's help, I stood up. "So, you want to try that again?" I asked the sobbing bully in a falsely pleasant voice? He shook his head rapidly in response. "Good," I responded, before turning away. "C'mon Alan, let's go,"
"How did you…?" he asked as we walked back to the cafeteria.
"My big brother, Dean, taught me," I answered.
"Hey, you're bleeding. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It could've been worse."
After that day, Alan and I started going over to each other's houses and hanging out after school. That summer, we became the best of friends after we took Michael and Rafael when they jumped us while we were on our way to the neighborhood park, and have been inseparable ever since. As friends, we have been through plenty good times that strengthened our friendships and bad times that stretched it, which includes our fair share of arguments and other hardships, but even in spite of that we've remained the closest friends and will always have each other's back no matter what happens.
Friday, May 23, 1997 3:39 p.m. (15:39)
Sleepy Hollow, Colorado
"So what are you going to miss the most?" Alan asked.
I thought for a second. What was I going to miss the most? Truthfully, despite how much I complained about middle school, there were plenty of things that I was going to miss. I loved most of my teachers, the guidance counselor (whose office I visited frequently) was really nice and had helped me through some really rough times that year, a few of my friends whom had really grown to like, were going to different schools, and the girl I had a crush on was moving away. Damn, I had a lot to miss.
"Sam! Earth to Sammy!" Alan said while snapping his fingers to get my attention.
"What?" I asked stupidly, being pulled from my thoughts.
"I asked what you were going to miss the most," Alan repeated slowly.
"Well… I… hmmm… I really don't know. There are a lot of things I'll miss," I said thoughtfully. "What about you?"
An expression of deep thought formed on Alan's face. "Remember Mr. Johnson?" he asked.
"Wait, are you talking about the seventh and eighth grade guidance counselor? Well of course I remember him! How could I not? The hours I spent in his office after, well, after the accident…" I trailed off, a numb feeling washing over me.
The accident, now that I'd give anything to forget. That January, my uncle, Jacob Winchester and I drove up to the lake for a long weekend of fishing. Now, I know what you're thinking, why go fishing in January? Well, in our defense, it was forty degrees out (which was pretty warm for Colorado around that time of year) and we couldn't resist going up there to catch a few. We left for the lake on Friday morning and were supposed to drive back down to Sleepy Hollow on Sunday morning, but that Saturday night, there was a big, unexpected snowstorm that covered the roads in a layer of slick ice, which delayed us from leaving Sunday morning like we'd originally planned. By the afternoon, the layer of ice atop the asphalt had melted, making the roads safe enough to drive on. I proposed we that we just pack up and leave for home ASAP. My uncle, however, thought it wouldn't hurt to wait another day and leave Monday morning; just to be safe. I told him he was being overly-paranoid and was able to talk him into leaving that night. For most of the drive, the skies were clear and the roads weren't slick, which was good news for us. Unfortunately though, the roads and the weather were the least of our worries. We were around an hour from Sleepy Hollow city limits, when a drunk driver slammed into the driver's side of our car after losing control of his truck. The impact of the crash and the blow from the passenger-side airbag knocked me unconscious. My uncle, who had briefly unbuckled his seat belt, was not so lucky. He was thrown from the vehicle and landed somewhere on the other side of the guardrail, a couple of hundred feet below; his body was never found. I, however, was miraculously hospitalized for little more than a snapped femur, a broken rib, and a fractured skull. When I had woken up in the hospital room the next morning, my brother had been the lucky one who got the privilege to explain to me that my uncle was missing and presumed dead…
Thursday, January 9, 1997
11:30 a.m. (11:30)
Sleepy Hollow General Hospital
Room 313
"A car accident?" I asked disbelievingly. "Wow, really?"
Dean nodded sullenly. "The driver of the pickup truck that hit you called 9-1-1. When the police got there, they arrested him for drunk driving," he said, a fire in his eyes.
"He was drunk!" I demanded. "So, you're saying I'm lying in this freaking hospital bed because some lazy hick couldn't call a freakin cab?"
Dean nodded again, looking grim. "If the guy weren't gonna be in jail for the next twenty years for vehicular manslaughter, I would've killed the guy,"
"Vehicular…didn't one of Dad's friends serve time for vehicular manslaughter?"
Dean nodded again. "Yeah, some guy named Rufus," he said, looking down at the floor.
"Well, you seem very cheery," I began sarcastically, before realizing what vehicular manslaughter meant. "…hold on…who died?"
My older brother avoided my gaze and looked out the window at the ambulance pulling into the hospital parking lot.
"Dean!" I said, more forcefully than before. "Who died?"
"Sammy, calm…"
"Stop stalling, and answer the fucking question!"
"Sam! Don't start being a dick!"
"Where's Uncle Jacob? I want to see him."
"Sammy…"
"Dean, where is he? Shouldn't he be visiting or something? The man owes me a burger. He said we'd drop by Goodtimes in Denver after we got in."
"Sammy…he's not coming."
"What? Why not? Is he working late or something?" My voice was beginning to sound desperate, even to me.
A single tear ran down my brother's cheek. "Sammy, Uncle Jacob didn't survive the accident. I'm sorry, buddy" he said, before pulling me into a hug.
I felt numb. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't react. Only one thought replayed itself in my mind, "My fault…"
Friday, May 23, 1997
3:41 p.m. (15:39)
"Sam! Dude, snap out of it man!" Alan said loudly, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
"Huh? What do you mean?" I asked, dazed.
"You were staring off into space the way you usually do, and then all of a sudden you got really pale," Alan answered, giving me a worried look.
"Sorry, man. I was just thinking about, well you know…" I trailed off.
Alan grimaced. "The accident… Are you sure you're alright?" he asked concernedly.
"Yeah… yeah I'm fine, just thinking," I lied putting on the best grin I could manage.
Alan didn't look convinced. "Sam it's only been a couple of months, there's no way in hell you're alright. And you shouldn't be, with the way he died. Hell, I'd think you were insane if you'd gotten over it already. With as close as you two were…" he trailed off.
I felt the all-too-familiar weight on my chest, the one I'd been carrying since my uncle's death, the feeling of guilt. The conversation was not going in the direction I wanted it to go, it kept bringing back those stupid memories, that stupid guilt. "Alan, can we… can we please change the subject?" I asked desperately, my voice cracking.
Alan looked sheepish. "Sorry man. I didn't mean to…"
But I cut him off, "Don't worry… don't worry about it, it wasn't your fault…" I said reassuringly as I could before trailing off into silence.
"You sure, you're okay?" Alan asked worriedly.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just been a long day, that's all." I knew I was lying to him, but hey, I didn't exactly want to have any chick-flick moments, as Dean called them.
Alan didn't look convinced. "Dude, we didn't do anything today," he said, still eyeing me over.
"I'm fine. Drop it, dude, seriously." I said coldly.
"Okay," he said shortly.
This is going to be a long summer, I thought bitterly, agitation and grief rising in my throat like vomit. No matter how many times people tried to reassure me that my uncle's death would get easier over time, it never helped; I still felt horrible. Fact of the matter is, he's dead, gone from the world; nothing could change that and nothing could make it better. I found myself wishing, as usual, that it'd happened differently. I wished that I hadn't rushed him to leave, that we'd stayed in his cabin just one more night. If we'd stayed, he wouldn't have been killed and I wouldn't be so damn miserable all the time. Guilt filled my chest, making it hard to breathe. I shoved down the feeling, and stared out the window at the passing trees.
4:15 p.m. (16:15)
The next thing I remember was being shaken awake by Alan. "Our stop," he said delicately.
After slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I made my way to the front, stopping only to thank the driver one last time, and stepped off the bus.
Alan was waiting for me a few yards up the sidewalk.
'Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah," I sighed.
We walked in silence, until Alan motioned for me to stop. He turned around to face me and I noticed something about the way he looked that I hadn't noticed before. His brown eyes (that were usually warm and filled with laughter) were lacked the lighthearted glow that they usually contained.
"Sam… about earlier… I'm really sorry about bringing Jacob up," he apologized
I shuddered at the use of my uncle's name.
"I should've known better…" he said softly, guilt lacing his words.
I cut him off. "Don't worry dude, I'm not mad at you or anything. And I know I can go to you for anything, but…I'm not gonna lie. This whole thing has knocked me on my ass, man, and I guess, I don't know, sometimes I forget I'm not alone,"
"You're not." He said shortly.
I know that, but it's just been hard, you know? I'm just, you know, so used to him being around all the time and you know, watching me and Dean when Dad leaves town for work for weeks on end. Damn, he was around more than Dad was, and I never really expected in a million years that I'd have to live life without him there. It's just going to take some…uh…getting used to… you know?" I said heavily before attempting to wipe my watering eyes discretely.
Alan saw the "not so discrete motion", and patted me on the back reassuringly. "Yeah I know what you mean, and man, I miss the guy like hell, too. And you know, it'll take a while to get back on your feet, and if you ever need to talk to anyone about it…well, let's just say it's my job as your best friend…" Alan said in understanding.
I nodded in agreement, not trusting myself to say anything.
"Now, come on, we have some X-Files to catch up on," he said in a lighthearted tone.
He put his hands in his pockets and strode on, whistling his favorite tune, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded at the sudden change of mood. It took Alan a few minutes to realize that I wasn't walking next to him and by that time he was halfway up the street. From a distance, I saw him cup his hands over his mouth.
"SAM, ARE YOU COMING?" He yelled.
I chucked to myself before sprinting up the street.
Wednesday, May 16, 1997 9:10 p.m.
"Wow…that season finale…just wow." Alan said in awe.
"If Mulder's dead, I swear to god!" Andrew Milton said.
Andrew was a good friend of mine, and frequently dropped by either mine or Alan's houses after school to hang out with us. Andrew had straight dirty-blonde hair that just barely covered his ears, mischievous hazel eyes, soft facial features, and a warm smile. The kid was fairly tall, well, tall enough to tower over me and Alan, at least. He had broad shoulders, he was fairly lean, and had long legs he used to excel at track.
"I can't believe Skully let Mulder think that it was all fake, I swear, if she wasn't so hot, I'd slap her ass," he finished loudly.
I snorted.
Andrew gave me his patented death-glare. "Oh, grow up, Sam!" he said agitatedly. "I just found out my favorite character…well, you get the point!"
"Not my fault you obsess over sexy TV characters," I retorted. "If you could keep a girlfriend for two days, this wouldn't happen."
"Damn, Sam, I didn't know you were into using cheap-shots," Andrew laughed. "But, when was the last time you had a girlfriend, yourself, Sammy?"
I glared daggers at the kid. "Andrew, call me Sammy again, and I'll castrate you," I threatened. "Pretty sure you wouldn't like that, huh?"
Andrew threw his arms up in surrender. "Alright, alright, jeez…I was just joking," he said in defense. "What's got your panties in a twist?"
"Nothing, dude, I just really hate that nickname. Just ask Alan," I answered.
Alan nodded in agreement. "It's true. He won't even let me call him Sammy."
Andrew rolled his eyes. "It's just a freaking nickname! I don't see what the big deal is."
"I just hate it when people call me that. Wouldn't you hate me calling you Andrea?"
Andrew glared. "Whatever."
"Glad we can understand each other," I said coldly.
"Will you two just shut up?" Alan complained. "You're giving me a head ache."
Andrew and I made I contact, both of us silently deciding to end the disagreement. Andy grabbed the remote from the bed and started flipping through channels for a while.
Finally, not able to stand the silence, I tapped Alan's shoulder. "Hey, Alan, What time is it?" I asked.
Alan checked his watch. "A quarter past nine. Why do you ask?"
"My dad wants me home by ten," I said.
"Wait, I thought you were staying over, tonight," Alan frowned.
"I was, but my dad wants to take me and Dean hunting for a few days," I explained.
"Why don't you just ask him if he can pick you up from here tomorrow?" Andrew proposed.
I let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, and have him pissed while we're hunting," I said in a sarcastic tone of voice. "Thanks, but no thanks."
"You're a real jackass, you know. Leaving me with this dumbass," Alan complained, motioning to Andrew.
"Fuck you, Alan!" Andrew said indignantly, giving Alan the finger.
"And you said Sam was immature."
"I heard that, Alan!"
I laughed at their antics, before getting up and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Alright guys, I gotta go,"
"Alright, see ya tomorrow," Andrew said, before getting up and giving me a one-armed hug. "But seriously Sammy, hang out with us a little, this summer. None of your whole antisocial bullshit this summer, okay?"
I rolled my eyes at his use of my least favorite nickname. "Don't worry, I'll meet you guys here tomorrow," I said.
"Dude, it's getting kind of dark, you want me to come with you?" Alan asked.
I thought about it for a second, and then shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not? It's been a while since Dean has seen you anyway," I said."He's been dying to have someone besides me be the butt of his jokes."
"Ha, classic Dean," Alan laughed.
"Alright, c'mon let's go," I said before pausing and facing Andrew. "Hey, Andy, you wanna come with?"
"Nah, I gotta head home and grab my bag pretty soon, anyway," he said.
"Aw, you're no fun," I whined.
Andrew (Andy) shrugged, before turning his attention back to the TV.
"C'mon, we gotta go, Sam. It's a long walk," Alan said, getting my attention.
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this story, please review, I'd like to know what you think!