Posting a chapter now because I needed something to distract me. Maybe you do to. Unfortunately this chapter may not be the best distraction as it comes with a warning. There is a scene where a character dreams of torture and gore. It's not for long, but I wouldn't want anyone to stumble into it unaware - especially as the last few chapters have been pretty fluffy. (I realize I should go change the rating of this story.) Thanks to scootersmom, ZeldaIsis, Kathy and OldGirl-NoraArlani for their reviews.
"I can't believe you won on a question about Ernest Hemmingway!," Sam shook his head. He knows better than anyone just how smart Dean really is, but his brother still surprises him occasionally.
"What? I read," Dean said somewhat smugly as they headed upstairs. The evening had flown by. Someone had brought out a bunch of lanterns and a battered copy of Trivial Pursuit. To say that the MacCallum family enjoyed a cut throat game of trivia was an understatement. It had been an easy, normal type of fun, the kind he remembered from his College days. As kids, Dean had taught him poker, and then later darts and pool, but they seldom had a chance to play just for the fun of it.
Sam sat on his bed and pulled off his boots. Typical, Dean had called first shower and now he could faintly hear his brother singing an off-key version of "We Are the Champions" over the noise of the water. Despite his earlier nap, Sam was tired. He considered just showering in the morning, but apparently there were plans for the annual MacCallum fishing expedition the next day and he didn't want to be rushed. The chance to spend more time with Jonathan was irresistible.
Wandering over to the window, he pulled back the curtains to look at the barn where his son was sleeping. He sent a quick prayer skyward for Johnny's safety. The boy was amazing - smart and kind and sweet and seeing the little guy experience new things reminded Sam that the world wasn't all dark. That there were butterflies to chase, warm summer days, friendly horses to pet, and piggyback rides. Sam caught his own reflection in the window glass. There was a broad smile on his face, one he hadn't seen in so long, he almost didn't recognize it as his own. The last few years had been hard to say the least, and he hadn't had much reason to smile until recently.
"Don't worry, I added some sigils and salt lines to the barn earlier." Dean was scrubbing his head with a towel as he walked out of the bathroom. Dressed in his usual sleep outfit of thin sweatpants and a well worn henley, he looked relaxed and more open than usual.
"Thanks, Dean," Sam responded. Protecting the innocent, taking care of people was part of Dean's DNA. But keeping Johnny safe should be Sam's job. And the boy wouldn't need protection from the supernatural if he wasn't his son. Everyone he loves, seems to die, so if Sam truly wanted to protect Jonathan and the rest of the MacCallum family, he should pack up right now and get as far away from them as possible. But how could he do that? He was the boy's father. It was his responsibility to be there for Johnny, the way Dean had always been there for him. He flopped back onto the bed, the weight of the worry and the indecision was exhausting.
"Hey." Dean smacked his knee.
"What?" Sam rolled onto his side, then sat up again as Dean gave him a probing look.
"What's going on with you?" His words were rough, but his voice was full of compassion and concern. Maybe if he talked to Dean he could figure out what to do.
"I just...I just don't know what to do. I never thought I'd be in this situation. I want to be part of Jonathan's life, I really do but…" He faded off with a sigh.
"But what?" Dean hitched himself up to lean against the headboard.
"Am I going to be putting him in danger if I try and be his Dad?" Sam found himself gnawing on his thumbnail, a bad habit he was trying to break. Dean quirked a smile at him.
"Sorry to point out the obvious Sam, but you already are his Dad. Danger or not, that ship sailed about five years ago."
"But I don't know what to do, how to be a father. Most of the time I'm around him I'm terrified, certain I'll say or do the wrong thing. Wouldn't the best thing be to just leave? He's got a great Mom and lots of family who love him and we, ...well we have to deal with the Darkness - a mess I created. Maybe that's what I do," he sighed again. "Make a mess, and screw things up. I don't want to wreck his life." Flinging his hands up he let them drop into his lap in despair. Dean reached across and squeezed his knee.
"Hey, you didn't screw up. You did everything possible to save me, and you did. So thank you for that." Dean looked away for a second and cleared his throat. "And the Darkness? That's not just your mess. You, me, Cas...we'll figure out what to do about Amara, just like we always do." Apparently Sam didn't look completely reassured because Dean shook the knee he was still gripping.
"You're supposed to be terrified, Sammy." He smiled. "I remember when you first started to walk. You went from a slow shuffle one day, and the next you were running like a freaking cheetah. It was all I could do to catch you. You thought running away from me was hilarious, but I was positive you were going to run in front of a car, or off a ledge or something and get yourself killed." Nostalgia softened Dean's expression for a moment, but then he caught Sam's eye. "The point is, it's normal to be terrified. Look Sam, I can't tell you what to do here. You gotta decide that for yourself. What I can tell you, is that you will make a great dad." His brother's smile was warm and reassuring. Then Dean smacked his leg and stood, busying himself with his bed covers to hide the emotion on his face. "Now, go get in the shower Sasquatch, you stink," he said gruffly.
Love flooded Sam. He was touched by what Dean had said and the fact that he had actually said it. It wasn't very often that Dean would venture into this kind of emotional moment, so hearing his reassurance and confidence meant a lot. Digging out his own pajamas and shave kit, he kept his back turned while Dean climbed into bed. Stopping at the door to the bathroom, he paused and looked over to where his brother was getting comfortable.
"Thanks Dean," he said quietly. "But, if I'm a good parent, it's because I learned it from you." And with that he fled into the bathroom and closed the door.
xxxxxx
Intense agony coursed through his body. His bare skin burned where it touched the icy metal rack. Panting, he tried to catch his breath against the pain. Hot blood - his blood - poured down his legs and puddled on the floor, the rest of him ached with the cold. Of course the ache was nothing compared to the excruciating anguish. The feel of Lucifer's cold fingers beneath the muscles of his stomach. Wiggling, pushing, tugging. Sam had long ago given up praying for an end. All he could do was suffer through the torment and wait for the archangel to stop.
The invisible chains that held him bit into his wrists and ankles and held him firmly face first against the rack. The agony abated for a second and he was unable to suppress a moan as he sagged against the frame holding him. Then Lucifer's slippery voice was in his ear as the devil pressed his frigid body close against Sam's back.
"Oh Sammy," he breathed, "you like this don't ya? You look so pretty like this. Helpless and bloody. Your insides all over your outsides." Lucifer pressed harder against his naked body, snuggling in obscenely close. One hand was wrapped around him, buried deep in his flayed open torso. The other hand smeared blood across the opposite hip in a sick caress. Lucifer sighed and rubbed his face against Sam's shoulder.
"Oh bunk buddy, I love this time with you, but I'm getting bored." Lucifer pulled his hand out of Sam's gut and grabbing his jaw twisted Sam's head to the side so that they were eye to eye. Pouting, the devil continued. "I want you to know it's not me, it's you. After so many years, our relationship isn't as…" He sucked in air as if he was searching for a word. "Exciting!" Despite his pain and exhaustion, Sam could see the gleam in Lucifer's eyes.
"So Sam, I figure we should start seeing other people." With a flick of his finger he stepped back and Sam's body was restored. The bindings disappeared and he slid down the bloody rack to collapse onto the slick floor. The absence of agony was like silence after thunder. All he wanted to do was to curl up into a ball and rest, but Lucifer had other plans. With another small gesture he was thrown backwards, landing hard against the wall. Frosted chains slithered back into existence wrapping around him and binding him tightly. Lucifer stood in the shadows across from him.
"Yeah, I can see you're tired. So, hows about I let you get some sleep." A comfortable looking bed shimmered into being nearby, but Sam knew from experience that Lucifer wasn't done with him yet. "Yeah, Sammy. You rest and I can play with him." A small form materialized in front of the archangel. With glowing eyes and a wicked leer Lucifer placed a possessive hand over Jonathan's chest, tugging the child against him. Sam arched against the chains, frantically trying to break free.
"No," he screamed, the sound tearing from his throat. Lucifer began to laugh and crouching down picked up Johnny, cuddling the child in his arms and pressing his cheek against the boy's curls.
"I think I'm gonna have so much fun with him," he simpered before turning and walking away to disappear into the shadows. With everything in him, Sam frantically fought against his bonds, twisting and yanking against the chains.
"No, no stop! Come back! I'll obey, I swear, I'll do anything... just let him go! No, please no!"
Sam lurched upright, propelled violently awake and out of his dream. Heart pounding, he scanned the room in a panic and it took him a minute or two before he recognized the unfamiliar surroundings. He was at the MacCallum's house. Glancing quickly towards the other bed, Dean lay still asleep, or at least faking it well. He let the sound of his brother's slow, steady breathing calm him a bit before shoving the sheet and blanket off his legs.
The room was warm but the cold sweat he wiped from his face had nothing to do with the temperature. Shoving the covers aside, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Padding in bare feet over to the window, he pulled back the curtain. The barn looked as sturdy and tranquil as before. Briefly he considered going to check on Jonathan, but his watch told him it was a little before 3:00 am. Far too late to risk waking up all the kids. Looking back at his rumpled bed, he thought about trying to go back to sleep, but he knew it would be futile. He needed to move, to shake off the disturbing image of Lucifer anywhere near his son. The room was far too small to pace and besides, Dean deserved to get some sleep.
With all the stealth a lifetime of hunting had taught him, Sam tiptoed to the door and slipped into the hallway. Thinking that maybe a drink of water would help, he made his way downstairs quietly. A light was shining in the kitchen and he paused in the doorway. Colin was sitting at the work table, a big glass of milk and a large brownie in front of him. But their host wasn't paying attention to either treat. Colin had his head bowed, his arms bracketing his head and his hands laced tightly behind his neck. He looked like he was in pain. Sam didn't want to intrude and was going to creep away when Colin rolled his head and caught sight of him.
"Hey, Sam," he said, leaning back with a smile. Busted, there was no point in hiding.
"Hey, Colin. I uh, I didn't mean to bother you, I was just looking for a glass of water." Colin rose to his feet and gestured to a chair.
"No bother, grab a chair. I didn't wake you did I?," he asked over his shoulder as he pulled a jug of cold water from the fridge and fetched a clean glass from the cupboard. Sam stepped into the bright room but didn't sit down.
"No, no...I just..." It was hard to explain how his nightmares made him restless and anxious. Clenching the back of a chair he fought to put an unconcerned expression on his face. Colin put the full glass at the place across from his own then gave Sam a close look. Returning to the counter he dished out another brownie and put it on a plate, adding that to the glass before he said anything else.
"Come, sit. I could use the company." Easing back into his chair, he stared up at Sam until he reluctantly sat down too. Taking a bite of his brownie, Colin continued to examine Sam's face as he chewed. Sam gave him a weak smile, still too shaken from his dream to do more. "Let me guess. Nightmare?" It was Colin's turn to smile at the surprised look from Sam. "I get them too." Sam took a sip of his water rather than reply.
"Sometimes, I remember things I've seen or done - things I'd rather not remember or hoped I'd forgotten." Colin took a sip of milk and wiped his mouth on a napkin. "Then other times, my mind invents something new and horrible. And sometimes," he chuckled lightly, "I just eat too much before bed." He leaned towards Sam. "Which was it for you?" Sam could take the offered 'out' and claim indigestion, but he for some reason he didn't.
"Uh, the second one I guess. My brain likes to take a memory and make it worse sometimes." Maybe it was the homey kitchen, or the quiet peacefulness of a house full of sleeping people. It wasn't like he could talk to anyone, even Dean, about Lucifer and what had happened during his time in the cage, so he wasn't sure why he said anything at all. Colin propped his elbows on the table an gave him an empathetic grimace.
"Trauma does funny things to a person. When I got back from Afghanistan, during the day I was fine...but it took a long time before I could sleep through the night without waking up screaming. You've been through some really terrible stuff in the past, haven't you?" There was no point in answering. Colin could have no idea about the kind of horror Sam had seen and Sam could never tell him. Would never want to share that burden with anyone. His lack of response didn't seem to faze the man across from him. Colin just shoved Sam's brownie towards him, urging him to take a bite with a jerk of his chin, then leaned back.
"I recognize the look. And I'm guessing that when you met Fiona, you weren't - yourself. You were still grappling with what had happened to you." Sam could only shrug. It was a simplistic way to describe being soulless, but at its core it was technically true. "Anyway, it's not my business. I believe that a man can't change his past, but he doesn't have to let it define him either. Nightmares might suck, but they're just dreams, you know."
Colin relaxed further into his chair, seemingly content in the companionable silence and watching as Sam finally picked up the brownie, and took a bite. Chocolate hit his taste buds in a flood of flavour. This was as amazing as Dean had said. "Mmmmm," Sam mumbled around his mouthful. Colin beamed at him.
"Eh? They're great aren't they. They're Sharron's speciality although she tends to only make them when we have company. Just as well, I'd gain 50 pounds if she made them all the time." Colin grabbed his own empty plate and glass and took them to the sink. When he returned to the table, he had a fresh glass of milk which he put in front of Sam. "Here, this goes better than the water. Well, I'm going to try and get some more sleep while I can. Don't stay up too late." Then Sam was alone with his snack and his thoughts.
A little while later Sam snuck back to their room, careful to be as silent as possible. Dean was still just a dark lump in the other bed. Climbing carefully back into bed, Sam scrunched his pillow into the perfect position to try and get a few more hours sleep before the dawn. Just as he got settled Dean spoke.
"You 'kay, Sam?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep. Sam knew that, if he wanted to talk, Dean would roll over and stay up as long as he needed him to. But oddly, just knowing that his brother would do that for him was enough.
"Yeah, I'm good. Go back to sleep." With a snuffling noise, Dean shifted position and was quickly back to sawing logs. Sam could feel sleep sweeping over him too, so he closed his eyes and let the room fade to black.