Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and everything you do. Thank you Gredelina1 for supporting and advising. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.
Chapter Ten
When Dean and John got to the apartment the next morning, they knocked on the door and waited for longer than usual before Sam whipped it open and then ran back along the hall, calling, "Come in," over his shoulder.
Bemused, they followed him through to the living room. Dean noticed there were some delicious smells coming from the kitchen alongside clattering and an occasional curse.
"Did you burn them, baby?" Jessica shouted to him from where she reclined on the couch.
"No," Sam shouted back. "It's all under control."
John sat down in the armchair and jerked his head at the kitchen door as he asked, "What's going on in there?"
Jessica grinned. "Sam has apparently decided that being engaged gives me a right to be a woman of leisure. I waited for breakfast in bed, but that took too long, so I came out here to support and encourage." She smiled fondly. "I think he's going for the record number of dishes for one meal."
"He's starting out as he means to go on, taking care of you," John said.
"Absolutely," she agreed, stretching languidly. "I am doing the same. Isn't that right, Sam?" She raised her voice so he would hear her.
Sam appeared in the doorway, a smudge of flour on his cheek and a harried expression. "I'm sure it is," he said, then disappeared inside the kitchen again.
John laughed.
"Seriously, though," she said. "I offered to help, but he shooed me out and insisted that I stay out here and relax. I'll give him this time and then it'll be my turn."
Dean heard another curse and he said, "You think I can help him out or is that cheating?"
"You'll have to see what he says," Jessica replied.
Dean walked into the kitchen and took in the chaos around Sam. There were two skillets on the stove, one frying sausages and the other with bubbling pancakes in it. There was a waffle maker steaming on the counter and Sam was beating eggs while his eyes darted between the pancakes and sausage.
"Need help?" Dean asked.
Sam considered for a moment, and then seemed to realize he was in over his head. His shoulders slumped, and he said, "Can you turn the pancakes?"
Dean grabbed a spatula and flipped them over carefully. "You know, there's such a thing as going too big," he said conversationally.
Sam sighed. "I have made all these things a bunch of times. I thought I could handle it."
"Have you ever made them all at once?" Dean asked.
"No," he admitted, setting aside the eggs and opening the lid of the waffle iron. He smiled victoriously and placed the perfectly browned waffles on a plate. He picked up the bowl of eggs and made to pour them into the waffle maker. Dean quickly took the bowl out of his hand and, ignoring his confused look, replaced it with the one of waffle batter.
"Thanks," Sam said with an embarrassed smile, pouring it into the pan.
Dean shook the sausages slightly to turn them and slid the cooked pancakes onto a plate.
"More?" he asked, counting the small pile already on the plate.
"No, but you could scramble some eggs for me. There's a clean skillet in the cupboard."
Dean retrieved the skillet and dropped in a knob of butter to melt. "Is there anything else we need to do?" he asked.
"Fruit!" Sam said suddenly. "I haven't done the fruit."
"Not a problem," Dean said, calling over his shoulder, "Dad, you got a minute?"
There was the sound of plodding footsteps, and then John said, "Wow. When you make breakfast, you really go all out."
Dean nodded and exchanged a smile with him. "There's fruit needs chopping. You good for it?"
"Yeah," John said, rolling up his sleeves. "Just point me where."
Dean opened the fridge and pointed to the compartment he knew Sam and Jessica used to keep their soft fruit fresh. John filled a bowl and then carried it to the counter while Dean poured eggs into the skillet.
"You sure don't mind, Dad?" Sam asked.
"Not at all," John said. "It's not often I get a chance to show off my knife skills to anything that's not trying to kill me.
Sam huffed a laughed. "Okay then."
Within ten minutes, the table was set and heaped with plates of food and mugs of coffee, and Sam was calling Jessica in. She appeared in the doorway and said, "Wow. That's… uh… something. You do realize there's only four of us, right?" she asked.
Sam glanced over the table and shrugged. "I'll box up what's left and take it to Rick and the others."
She walked around the table to sit beside him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Sam."
"It was a family effort," Sam said a little abashed.
"It's still great," she said. "Now, are we eating?"
Sam nodded eagerly and then they all sat and began to fill their plates with food. Dean noticed that even Sam helped himself to pancakes and waffles as well as a heaping of fruit. He was glad. He was starting to worry the kid had no taste buds in his mouth with all the green and healthy crap he put in there.
They ate without speaking for a while, the only sound the scrape of knives and forks on plates and murmurs of appreciation. When Dean had eaten more than his fill, he pushed away his plate and picked up his coffee, waiting for the others to finish, too. When Sam, the last of them to finish, swallowed his last bite and cleared his throat, they all sat back in their chairs, replete.
Jessica refreshed their coffees and Sam turned to John. "So, how did it go with whatever it was you were doing?"
John wiped at his mouth with a napkin, seeming to be deciding how much to say. Dean hoped he went with full honesty as he hadn't heard the story either and thought they all deserved it.
"I went back to that bar we took you to," he said.
"The Roadhouse," Sam said, nodding. "Ellen and Bill's place."
Dean nodded. He knew Sam had some memory of them from before, as he'd mentioned them when Missouri had hypnotized him.
"I met some other friends there, too," John went on. "Some you know, but a couple you don't." He glanced at Dean and said, "Bobby came, and Daniel Elkins and Caleb. Jim Murphy, too."
Dean nodded thoughtfully. With Ellen and Bill, that made a good group. Probably the only hunters out there they could really trust.
"Pastor Jim," Sam said with a small smile.
"You remember these people?" Jessica asked.
"Yeah," Sam said. "Probably not as well as I should, but there's flashes. Bobby lives in a place with a bunch of cars, right?"
"That's right," John said looking pleased. "He has a salvage yard and repair shop."
"And Pastor Jim has a nice garden."
"That's right," Dean said. He didn't realize Sam had gained so much back past the memories he'd gotten at Missouri's place. He'd said there had been dreams, though, and Dean was pleased that there was more he remembered.
"But I haven't met Daniel or Caleb?" he checked.
"No. Caleb came after you were gone, and I never introduced you to Daniel."
Sam nodded and said, "Sorry. Go on."
"It's okay, Sam," John said. "You need to puzzle it all together. That makes sense. Well, we all met, and I told them about the demon your friend Brady mentioned when he was possessed."
"And the war?" Jessica asked, her tone somber.
"Yeah, that too."
"How'd they take it?" Dean asked.
"Pretty much as you'd expect," John replied. "They're obviously worried, but they've all agreed to do what they can."
"What can they do?" Sam asked. "I mean, what are we all going to do?"
"You and Jess are going to live your lives same as you ever did," John said sternly. "We are going to find this demon. That's what our friends are doing now. They're finding lesser demons and questioning them."
"Even Jim?" Dean asked.
"He's doing what he can," John said.
Dean was pleased in a way. As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of things, to find this demon and protect Sam, he didn't want Jim to have to sacrifice an important part of himself to do it. He wasn't capable of torturing a demon the way John had Brady. He didn't have it in him as he was now. He would have to change, and that would take away the gentleness and kindness Dean admired most in him.
"They are doing everything they can to find it," John said.
Sam looked a little pale as he said, "That means hurting them, right? Your friends are hurting people for me."
"Not people, Sam. Demons," Dean reminded him. "If they just use salt and holy water, they can protect the meat suits."
"But what if the demon has hurt them already?" he asked. "You said they do that. If they're exorcised, that can kill the people."
"It can, but if the demon has done that much damage, they're dead already. All we're doing by exorcising them is letting the humans have peace."
"And they're doing it willingly?" Sam asked. "All your friends, I mean. They're ready to do this for a stranger?"
"Yes," John said. "They agreed before they even knew about the war. And you're not a stranger to them. Even Daniel and Caleb, who never met you, know you because they have been a part of our search for you all these years. And Bobby, Jim, Ellen and Bill, they have more than flashes of you, Sam. They care about you."
Jessica squeezed his hand where it sat on the table. "It's okay, baby," she said softly. "Think of all the others. John said there were more people like you, with abilities. They need to be protected, too."
"Doesn't feel like an ability," Sam said bitterly. "It's feels like a curse."
"I know this is a lot to handle," John said. "And you're taking it better than I think any of us could. But you have to believe me, believe us; we're going to protect you. It will all be okay."
Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. I know. I just wish it wasn't necessary."
"So do we all," Dean said seriously. "But it won't be forever. Soon you will be able to go on with your life free of all this."
Sam looked at Jessica and smiled sadly. Dean wondered where his thoughts were. Was he thinking of the future they would have when the threat was over, or was he wondering whether there would be one at all? Maybe he didn't have complete faith in them to save him. They would just have to prove him wrong.
Sam was sitting in a booth at Betsy's, sipping a coffee as he watched Rick demolish a club sandwich and fries.
"Aren't you eating at the refuge center?" he asked.
"You get breakfast and dinner there, but lunch is down to us to find," Rick said through a mouthful. "Besides, this is Betsy's. You can't eat slow."
"You could savor it," Sam said.
Rick grinned. "Believe me, I'm doing that, too." He swallowed thickly and said, "So, this is the second lunch you've brought for me this week. Not that I'm complaining, but aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"
"I've got a pretty light schedule this semester," Sam said. "The benefit of taking a heavy courseload for three years."
"Don't get used to it," Rick said. "I doubt you get any sort of light schedule in law school."
"I won't," Sam said seriously.
"It'll be worth it," he said. "When you're a big fancy lawyer in your skyscraper, defending the rich and stupid, you'll forget all about the struggle to get there."
Sam snorted. "Do you really see me doing that?"
"Being a big-time lawyer? Yes."
"Defending the rich and stupid, I mean," Sam said.
Rick considered. "No. Maybe not. I could see you being incredibly successful at it, but I can't see you enjoying it. You seem more human than those sharks. What do you want to do?"
"I wanted to do criminal law. I thought defending the innocent would be satisfying."
"But now?"
"I don't think it would satisfy me. That's what Jess wants to do, and she'll be great at it." He smiled. "I think I'll have to rely on her to support me while I work for the little man."
"Doing what?"
"Civil rights law. I think I can make a difference to the world that way."
"I used to be like you," Rick said thoughtfully. "I wanted to help people, too. So I worked for a charity, not worried about the piss-poor wages or crappy insurance because I was doing good, helping people and families in crisis. Then some asshole plowed into me at an intersection and I ended up being the one in crisis. How's that for coincidence?"
"I'm sorry, Rick," he said.
Rick waved away his words. "How is your lovely fiancée?" he asked in an obvious attempt at changing the subject. "Wedding planning going full steam ahead?"
"Not yet," Sam said. "At least I don't think so. Her mom calls a couple times a day to talk, but Jess and I have had other things happening that matter more."
"Don't let her hear you saying that. Brides-to-be tend to think weddings are pretty much the most important thing."
"Nah, she gets it. She's just as caught up as I am."
"With?" Rick asked pointedly.
"Law school interviews. I had mine a couple days ago, and Jess has hers today."
Sam was nervous. He thought his interview had gone well. He'd been able to form a rapport with the interviewer. He thought he'd asked the right questions and his answers to those that he'd been asked in return had been good. He thought he had a real chance.
He was more confident about Jessica's chances. She could charm like no one else, and the fact they were interviewing her meant they had considered her letters of recommendation in partnership with her LSAT score. She'd left that morning with a spring in her step, ready to face the challenge as she always did.
"Good luck," Rick said easily, popping a fry into his mouth and chewing.
Sam smiled. "Thanks, Rick."
Rick swallowed and said. "Well, how's it going with my future employment? Making any progress in building your empire?"
"Not so much," Sam said guiltily. "I'm still not sure what I want to actually do for a business. You got any ideas?"
"Sam, I live on a bench. What exactly do you think I know about businesses?"
"I think you know more that you're saying," Sam said. He thought Rick was an intelligent and capable man that had been struck down on his luck. He pretended to be ignorant to prevent himself from having to face just how wrong his life had gone. Perhaps it made it easier for him.
Rick considered for a moment. "Maybe. Okay, how about TVs? People like them, and there always seems to be some new model advertised. Or clothes. Women always need new clothes."
"That's nice and stereotypical," Sam said.
"Cell phones!" Rick said. "Everyone has one of those these days."
Sam laughed, "I don't think I'm going to put Blackberry out of business, to be honest. I like the idea of manufacturing though. It would be good to have something physical to show for the work."
"Definitely," Rick said. "You can employ all levels of skillsets that way. People can be taught how to operate machinery and work basics with their hands. Yeah. You get to work on that and I can be your foreman."
Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll start looking into it."
"What does your bigshot adviser say?" he asked.
"I, uh, haven't got one yet," Sam admitted.
Rick looked stern. "What's the hold up?"
"There's been a lot going on," Sam defended.
"Yeah, interviews and proposals, and I'm sure that was exciting and all, but did it stop you from checking the Yellow Pages?"
"No," Sam said. "I'm sorry. I'll do it when I get home. It wasn't just me and Jess that distracted me though."
"No? What was it then?"
"There's been family stuff going on, too. Things are a little tough right now, a little dangerous even. We're in trouble. My dad and brother are working on it right now; people are putting themselves out there to help us, and…"
"And that's got you all twisted with guilt," he guessed. "Sam, you've helped me a lot. I don't just mean with cash and hot meals. You've given me hope and something to look to forward to in the future other than another night in the shelter. I don't feel guilty about that though, because I needed the help. You have to accept the same."
"When I say putting themselves out there, I mean really putting themselves out.
"Let me ask you a question. Could you get out of this 'trouble' on your own?"
"No." Sam knew he didn't a chance without his family and their friends.
"Then take the help that's offered and do what you can, too. Right now, that means finding someone that can help you to set up something great."
"Thanks," Sam said. "I needed to hear that."
"Good," he said, satisfied. "Now, what are you still doing here with me if you have all this important stuff to do?"
"I guess I wanted a little normal," Sam said.
Rick huffed a laugh. "Wow, if you think this is normal, you're more messed up than I thought. Go on, get your ass out of here. Find Jess, make some calls, do whatever it is you've got to do to help. Go save the world, Sam."
That wasn't his job, he thought. It was Dean and John's. He could do his part though. He would help who he could.
He slid out of the booth and dropped down bills to cover their tab. "Thanks, Rick," he said and then walked out of the door and into the bright sun.
He didn't go to his last class of the day. He thought there was something more important to be doing. He walked home and let himself into the apartment.
He wasn't expecting Jessica to be home, so he was surprised to see her sitting on the couch, a book open on her lap.
"Hey," he said. "You okay?"
"Fine," she said serenely. "You got a call while you were out. I wrote down the number."
Frowning, Sam picked up the phone and piece of paper with the number written on it in Jessica's neat handwriting. It was a local number that he didn't recognize. He wandered into the kitchen, dialing as he went. It was answered promptly, and a woman's professional voice said, "Stanford University. Admissions."
"Hello, it's Sam Hydeker." How he hated that name. "I missed a call."
"Of course," she said. "Please, hold." There was a brief snatch of Mozart before a male voice spoke. "Sam, it's Professor Richmond. We met a few days ago."
"Of course," Sam said, his heart speeding to a tattoo against his ribs.
"I'll make this brief," he said, and Sam's heart sank. It had to be bad news. "I am pleased to offer you a place on our law program commencing September."
"Oh," Sam croaked. "Wow."
"Congratulations, Sam. A formal offer will be mailed to you, but I thought you would prefer the news sooner rather than later."
"Thank you," Sam said quickly. "Thank you so much."
"I'll let you go. I imagine you have some celebrating to do."
"Thank you," Sam said again, inwardly cringing at his inability to come up with any other words, and heard a chuckle on the line before the click.
He lowered the phone in his hand and stared at the clean tabletop. It didn't seem real.
"Well?" Jessica asked from the doorway.
Sam turned unsteadily, feeling the color drain from his face.
"Are we matriculating together or not?" she asked neutrally.
"Together?" Sam asked, his eyes widening.
She beamed at him. "I got in, too!"
Sam whooped and ran at her. He swept her into his arms and spun her. "We did it!" he shouted. "We got in!"
"Yes," she said gleefully.
Sam couldn't quite believe it. He was getting married, his had his real family back, and he'd gotten into one of the best law schools in the country. How was it possible that one man could be so happy?
It was perfect.
So… So much fluff in this one. I love to write the lighter stuff almost as much as I do the drama. It wasn't always that way. I didn't think I was capable. It took some experimentation and effort, but I soon grew to love the happy as well as the sad. That said, the drama is back in the next chapter.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx