Chapter Six
A couple hours after spilling their entire life story, Dean parked in front of Bobby's house, putting the brake on and shutting the car off. Sam huffed a small chuckle.
Dean looked at him. "What?"
"It's just…" said Sam. "This is Bobby's house. I mean, all the things that Sam and D—" Sam broke off, realizing his mistake, "that we have been through here. I mean…this is where we exorcised Meg…twice. This is where we locked Ruby in the devil's trap in the basement. This is where you guys locked me in the panic room." Sam shook his head. "It's kind of weird."
"Well, you brought your weird to the right place," said Dean. He got out of the Impala, and Sam followed him.
Bobby walked up to his house, unlocking it and showing the two brothers inside. Dean and Sam walked into the living room, and Bobby handed them two beers.
"So, everything straightened out?" asked Bobby.
"Yeah," said Sam. "I know everything."
"Good," said Bobby. He nodded in sympathy. "You must be confused as hell."
"Sort of," said Sam. "I mean…the books are fiction, so this life seems real. But with Dean's proof…now this life is obviously fake." He shook his head. "I just don't know what to think anymore."
*************SN*******************
Sam walked down the basement stairs with a beer, taking a break. He walked around the basement, searching the stored junk. (And yes, I stole the following scene from Dark Angel.) In the corner, a cloth covered a large object, and Sam approached it. He pulled the cloth down to reveal a piano.
Bobby has a piano?
Sam ran his fingers along the top, smiling. He began thinking about Sam from the books—him—now playing the piano. He sat down on the bench, raising his hands to the keys.
Dean frowned as he heard a song being played distantly. "Bobby, what is that?"
"There's a piano in the basement," said Bobby. "My wife used to play. Sam must've found it."
"Huh," said Dean.
He headed to the basement and walked down the stairs. The song was beautiful and haunting. Dean turned the corner to see Sam sitting at the piano, head lowered as he played, hands flying over the keys. (To find out what song Sam is playing, here's the address-it's youtube-: .com/watch?v=9-Y7trsjKxw)
Wow… Dean thought.
Sam hit every note perfectly, his hands flying back and forth on the keys. Dean leaned against the stairs, watching with fascination. Sam's concentrated stare at the keys made him smile.
Sammy finally found a hobby.
Sam's entire body seemed to move with the song, the way a professional pianist plays. The song came to an end, and Sam lowered his hands.
"That's really good," said Dean.
Sam jumped a little and spun on the bench, looking at Dean. He looked down at his hands sheepishly. "I didn't know you were there."
"Obviously," said Dean.
Sam laughed a little. "It must be weird seeing your demon-hunting kid brother playing a piano."
Dean shrugged. "A little. But I can tell you really enjoy it."
Sam looked at the piano. "I do." He looked back at Dean. "It's kind of soothing in a way. I don't really know what it is, but…it's like the whole world disappears while I'm playing. Like…finally something I'm doing is good instead of a big mess." Sam chuckled a little. "I guess I know why I feel like that now."
Dean nodded a little, realizing. Subconsciously, Sam had retained those feelings from all the mistakes he'd made over the past five years.
"You know any other songs?" asked Dean.
Sam looked up at him, smiling. "Yeah, I know several."
Dean sat on a nearby chest, getting comfortable. "I'd love to hear them."
Sam smiled as he turned back to the piano. He brought his hands up, beginning another song. (To hear this one, here's the address-it's youtube-: .com/watch?v=f05mreVE8kE&feature=related)
Dean smiled. "Hey, I've heard this song before."
Sam laughed as he continued playing.
*************SN***************************
"Alright, come on," said Dean. "Hit me."
He and Sam were in Bobby's backyard. After two days at the house, Sam had begged to be trained. Since the demons were after him and he was Sam Winchester, after all, he felt he needed to knock the rust off his hunting skills.
Sam and Dean were wearing sweatpants and T-shirts with tennis shoes, comfortable enough to move around in.
Sam tensed in anticipation, readying his attack. Dean was facing him, watching him closely. Sam darted forward, swinging a punch to Dean's ribs. Dean dodged it, which was exactly what Sam had been hoping for. As Dean moved slightly to Sam's right, Sam swung his right arm up, using his forward momentum to wrap the arm around Dean's neck. He brought his body to Dean's back, keeping his elbow locked around Dean's throat. Dean patted Sam's arm twice, their signal, and Sam let him go.
"Not bad," said Dean. "Nice diversion."
"Thanks," said Sam.
"Alright," said Dean, readying himself again. "I'm gonna take you down, bitch."
"Not if I get you first, jerk," Sam smiled, readying himself as well.
Dean swung his right leg up suddenly, aiming for Sam's ribs. Sam dropped a couple of inches to bring his arms up, letting Dean's leg bounce off his forearms. As Dean's leg dropped back to the ground, Sam brought his left foot forward to rest behind Dean's left leg. He swung his leg towards himself, knocking off Dean's already altered balance. Dean dropped to the ground, and Sam was there to drive a forearm into his throat, putting light pressure on the windpipe. Dean tapped him twice, and they got up.
"You're getting better," said Dean. "This morning, you couldn't block a single damn attack. It's all coming back, looks like."
"Yeah," said Sam. "Can't believe how easy this comes."
"What do you say we switch to weapons?"
Sam nodded. "Sounds good."
Dean moved over to a duffel he'd loaded up from the Impala's trunk. He grabbed a pistol, handing it to Sam. He also pulled one out for himself.
"Alright, I'll show you how to take it apart," said Dean, demonstrating slowly. "Okay, first you…"
He trailed off s Sam slid the barrel off the pistol, checking the sights and the bullets. He slid the barrel back on, pulled the hammer back and took the safety off, holding it with both hands.
"What now?" asked Sam.
Dean laughed. "Alright." He turned Sam towards the fence three hundred feet away where he had set up empty cans. "Try to hit them all."
Sam placed his left leg forward, his right hand wrapped around the pistol's grip. He raised the gun, his right arm straight, as his left hand supported his right. He moved his head so it was behind the gun, aiming at the cans. He braced himself for the recoil and fired the gun five times, hitting all five cans.
"Great!" said Dean as Sam lowered the gun. "Dude, you'd never know you had a four month sabbatical!"
"I know, right?" said Sam, stunned at his own ability. "I guess I really am a hunter."
Dean looked at his watch. "Whoa, we've been at it for four hours. I'd say it's time for a break."
The two of them headed to the Impala, breaking some beer bottles out of the cooler in the backseat. Dean leaned into the front seat, turning on the radio. A classic rock song came on.
Dean leaned on the Impala next to Sam. "There we go."
Sam frowned as he listened to the music. I know this song…
The lyrics started in. "I never meant to be so bad to you. One thing I said that I would never do. A look from you and I would fall from grace, and that would wipe the smile right from my face. Do you remember when we used to dance, and incidents arose from circumstance. One thing led to another; we were young. And we would scream together songs unsung."
Sam suddenly recognized the song, and his heart trip-hammered against his ribcage.
"It was the heat of the moment, telling me what my heart meant. The heat of the moment showed in your eyes."
Sam suddenly ripped the driver's door open, leaning in and shutting the radio off.
"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam climbed out of the car and leaned against it again. "I thought you liked my music now."
"Not Asia," Sam said quietly, jaw tight. "Anything but that song."
"What's wrong with that song?" asked Dean.
"I'm guessing you don't remember, since you're not the one that lived through it, but that was the song that woke me up every morning those hundred Tuesdays. And before you ask, no, I don't remember. But I've always hated that song. I didn't know why, but I could never listen to it. Now I know."
Dean nodded. "Okay. What do you want to listen to?"
"I don't care. Just anything but that."
Dean pulled a Metallica cassette out and played it. As he leaned on the car next to Sam, "Enter Sandman" began playing.
Sam smiled. "Much better."
They leaned against the car, enjoying the beer and music.
