Sam hung up the phone just as Dean came shuffling in with his morning cup of coffee. His brother's hair was still as disheveled as it could be and his eyes a bit red from one more night of drinking his boredom away.
"Hey," Dean mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep.
They'd been holed up studying book after book for over a week, far too long for Sam's restless older brother to be cooped up. If he hadn't gotten the phone call that morning, Sam might have made up a case just to get them out of the bunker.
"Hey," Sam said. He slipped his phone into his pocket and brought his own empty mug to the sink. "Drink up quick, we have a vamp to kill."
Dean raised a brow with interest. "Any specific vamp, or…" It didn't really matter, he needed a good kill.
"Suit up, grab your things," Sam said, heading out of the room. "I'll tell you about it on the way."
There were stories. All throughout their childhood; their dad had told them, Bobby had told them. And growing up they'd absolutely believed it was true. It was just that they'd never actually seen any hunter's kid removed by child protective services. Not that they'd seen a lot of hunter's kids, but it didn't matter. John Winchester had drilled the fear of foster care into them. Still, when the call stopped his heart beating for a moment, Sam realized there had been a part of him that didn't believe it actually happened. Except sometimes it did.
They pulled up to the little ranch house, sitting there looking like it had just been dropped between the trees. In fact, it looked like a hunter's home, but they both knew it wasn't.
"Look, Sammy, we don't even know that this kid knows what's going on, so be careful," Dean told him. He got out of the car and closed the door behind him. "I'll talk to the foster mom while you talk to Jacob."
Dressed in khakis and sweaters that made them both feel like they'd stepped out of J. Crew, Dean rang the doorbell. A woman answered, about 40 years old, long black hair, and seeming to be expecting them.
"Come on in," she said, not even asking their names. "Jacob is upstairs."
"Thanks," Sam said. He watched Dean follow the foster mother into the kitchen, hoping his brother wouldn't try to hit on the woman, then made his way to the kid's bedroom. The furniture was clean, but old, with chips and scratches giving away its wear and tear. Remembering the devil's trap Dean had carved into his bed at the group home, he quickly scanned the room, but saw no evidence of warding. The kid was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, waiting. Sam knew he couldn't see the majority of the kid's wounds, hidden away behind his clothes. But there was still evidence of the attack in the lacerations across his neck and temple.
He pulled the desk chair over in front of the boy and sat down. If he was honest, he knew Dean was better with kids, but the hunter who'd called them had asked him specifically to talk to Jacob. He could see why now. Everything about this boy seemed familiar.
"Hi Jacob," he said gently. "My name is Sam."
The boy didn't look up from his fingers. He was average size for a twelve year old, dirty blonde hair a mop across his face. His long lashes hid his eyes, but Sam was pretty sure what he would see inside them. The same thing he'd seen in the mirror for most of his childhood.
"I was asked if I could come talk to you. There are some people who are really worried about you. About your injuries."
"I got into a fight with a kid in the town next door," he said quickly. Too quickly and too matter-of-fact. A rote answer he had rehearsed in his head.
Sam looked up at the wall behind the boy. Blank, no family photos, no shelves full of trophies, no posters of celebrities he admired. A kid who couldn't take the risk of laying down roots.
A wall just like his own back at the bunker.
"How long have you been here?" Sam asked.
"Few months," Jacob muttered.
"Is your foster mom nice?"
Jacob shrugged. "I guess."
"Do you know…" Sam stopped himself. He had to be careful. "Do you know why you're in foster care?"
That earned him a glance. A broken glance, full of mistrust. "My mom and dad, they were…in business together. Dad died about a year ago. On the job. My mom took over. So she wasn't around a lot. She told me if I went to school everything would be fine. So I did. Even after…" Jacob's voice trailed off and his gaze shifted back to his hands.
"Even after what?"
"A fight with a kid in the town next door." The same story twice. Sam wondered if he even realized. "Cut me up, bruises. I should have stayed home from school, but she always told me…"
"And then they thought your mom did it." Sam didn't even need to ask.
But Jacob looked up, eyes hardening. "She told them that she did it," he snapped. "It wasn't true but she told them that anyway."
Sam nodded. He didn't need the pieces put together for him. He already knew why they both were sitting there that day. But he needed to get Jacob to trust him. "What did your mom and dad do for work?" he asked.
Jacob shook his head, staring past Sam. "Nothing. I don't know."
"They ever go hunting?"
The boy froze, then looked him up and down, no doubt trying to decide if this was a trap or not. But the only trap Sam had tried to set was to find out if Jacob knew what was really going on. One look in his eye told Sam that the kid knew everything.
"My brother Dean and I," Sam started. His voice choked and he cleared his throat. He didn't talk about his childhood too much to anyone outside of Dean or Bobby. None of them did. "Our mom died when I was a baby and my Dad, well, he wasn't around very much either. He'd go hunting too." Jacob's eyes were transfixed, widening with every word. "Usually he left us behind. Sometimes he didn't. We'd come back cut up and bruised. Never knew whether going to school would make it better or worse. Truth is…" The truth had never felt so real before in his life. "Truth is, we spent our whole childhood one step away from sitting right where you are."
"I shouldn't have gone to school that day." Jacob dropped his head, full of regret.
Sam wouldn't let him drown in it like Dean did, true or not. "So it wasn't the kid in the next town over. What was it?" he asked.
Jacob looked at him for a long time. Sam wondered when was the last time the kid had someone he could truly trust, someone to talk to about all this. Probably never. Sure there were hunters looking out for him, that's why Sam and Dean were there after all, but they didn't get close and his foster mother certainly didn't know the truth. And Jacob didn't have any reason to think that anyone would believe him even if he told it.
Anyone but Sam.
"Vampires," Jacob whispered. When Sam didn't flinch, didn't make a sound, he continued. "My dad was killed by one, when he'd gone after the nest. He'd ganked all the rest, but this one, he was the big one. Mom knew that even though Dad was dead he would come after us, after me, so she kept hunting. But he found us first." Tears filled Jacob's eyes, but he blinked them back. "She shoved me away. I ran home, she ran after him. Truth was I had no idea if she was alive or dead until she showed up at school the next day saying she'd…" Jacob took a deep breath. "Then I ended up here."
"And he found you again, the other night?" Sam asked. Jacob nodded. "How'd you get away?"
Jacob looked almost offended. "I got moves," he argued.
Sam chuckled to himself. He used to tell his father and Dean the same thing. "I'm sure you do, kid."
"Can you kill it?" Jacob asked. "So it doesn't come back after me? Or my mom?"
Sam didn't want to give the kid false hope. But no vampire had survived them yet. "Yes. We can. And then maybe you and your mom can figure out how to get you back home. Safe."
"No." Jacob shook his head. "Doesn't matter if it's dead, she won't stop hunting." Sam let out a breath. He knew that all too well. "You said you and your brother could have been taken away?" Sam nodded. "Did you ever want it?" Jacob's voice was tiny. "This?"
Sam thought about what he should say. What his father and Dean would have wanted him to say. But this kid deserved the truth. He deserved to know that Sam understood what he was feeling. And that it was okay to feel that way. "If I knew that my brother and I would have stayed together. And we'd still be able to see my dad about as much as we ever did? Yeah," he admitted. "Maybe I would have."
"When I got here, I finally felt like I could breath," Jacob admitted. "I feel guilty for that. I mean, who doesn't want to go home to their mom?"
Sam leaned forward. More than anything, he needed Jacob to hear this. "It's okay to want to be safe. And it's okay to want to be out of that life. And I think your mom knew that was what you wanted and she's pretty amazing for giving you that chance." He patted Jacob's hand and for the first time, the kid offered him a small smile. "We'll come back to let you know it's done."
Sam got up and turned around to find Dean standing in the doorway. He didn't know how long he'd been there but eyes full of pain stared back at him and Sam knew he'd been there long enough. He'd heard what Sam had said. He just didn't understand what he'd meant.
The Impala was filled with a heavy silence, the one Sam knew all too well. He considered putting on some music, even one of Dean's favorites, but his brother would just turn it off, preferring to wallow in his anger and resentment. It was as if Dean had to feel it deep down into his bones before he would ever be able to get rid of it. If he ever really did.
Sam, on the other hand, needed to get it out. "Dean, I know you heard me back there. Let's just talk about it."
"Oh you want to talk?" Dean snapped at him, watching him out of the corner of his eye before turning back to the road. "Fine. You really would have rather been in foster care than with Dad and me?"
Sometimes his brother was exhausting. "That's not what I said."
"Then what did you say?"
"Look, Dean, you knew me better than anyone else in the world. You knew I didn't want to hunt. That I just wanted to be safe. But none of that ever mattered to me as much as you did." Dean had taken his words as betrayal and abandonment. But that was the furthest thing from the truth. "The worst moments of my childhood weren't when he was gone. It was when you went with him."
Dean shuffled in his seat, clearing his throat. "Well, yeah," he muttered.
"I had something Jacob doesn't have. A brother. Someone to share it all with, to talk to about every crazy, painful, exhilarating, terrifying moment. For the most part I'd had someone else to take care of me and keep me safe. I had you. But if it had meant that we could still be together and you could be safe also? Hell yeah, I might have gone."
"Well, I wouldn't have," Dean said. "I wouldn't have left Dad. Not willingly."
"I know," Sam said. He'd always known. "So I wouldn't have either. We are a team, Dean, and no one and nothing has ever been able to split us up for long, no matter how hard they've tried. Social Workers wouldn't have stood a chance with us."
"We sure would have given them a run for their money." Dean laughed softly at the image and Sam knew that everything was going to be okay.
"That we would have."
"Okay," Dean said, the pain in his chest cleared. He looked over at Sam and flashed his stupid grin. "Now how about you and I get this vamp ganked so we can tell Jacob he's safe. And so we can go home."
Home. Sam had had so many different images of what the word meant throughout his life. But seeing Jacob sitting on that bed, so alone in his world, now he knew. Home would always be wherever Dean was. Whether it was the bunker, or a crappy motel room, or sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, racing down the road. As long as Dean was by his side, he knew that he was always home.