As he parked the Impala in the motel lot and made his way to his room like he was walking through molasses, Sam was desperate for a shower and sleep. It was well past midnight and he'd just finished a near 32 hour 'shift' hunting down the werewolf pack that had terrorized the nearby town.
When he'd rolled in five days ago, he'd assumed it would be a quick hunt. He was looking forward to buttoning it up fast; then he could chase after the next one and further avoid his grief. But he'd begun digging and rapidly hit a firm brick wall in the form of the Sheriff's Office. Turns out, while one of the deputy's had called him in for help, he'd apparently gone rogue. The Sheriff herself was being bribed by the pack leader to keep their activities hush-hush and was furious when Sam showed up.
The night before, he had considered giving up all together. While hardly eating his dinner and brainstorming his next move, he'd heard the couple next door begin another shouting match. When the fighting stopped and he'd heard the door slam shut, it had been a mere chance that he'd happened to look out his window just in time to see the female walking past holding a small bundle of motel room towels. Only half paying attention, he watched her walk up to a waiting truck in the parking lot and get in. He instantly recognized the truck as one that matched the description that an eyewitness had seen driving away from one of the dump sites.
Following that truck eventually led him to an isolated cabin about ten miles outside of town. He'd waited and observed for long enough to confirm he'd found the pack's hideout and then handled it. It had not been easy alone, but he'd gotten lucky that they were a small, sheng, inexperienced group of werewolves. He had almost enjoyed it, since the fear-adrenaline of taking them on solo allowed him a small reprieve from the agony of Dean's death. Jody, who tried to talk him out of storming the castle, may have thrown around the word 'suicidal,' but he had brushed her off. Danger was all part of the gig and all hunters knew it.
Regretfully, his motel neighbor had been bleeding out in the bathroom when he'd finally been able to search for her. It was too late; she was gone in seconds. He'd also found two more victims-including the deputy who called him in-with their hearts missing tossed into a garbage heap in the backyard. Fuck danger, that kind of shit was the hardest part of the gig. Especially now.
It wasn't until he was standing in front of his motel room, pulling his key from his pocket, that he noticed her. She was about a foot shorter than him, with jet black hair tied up in a bun, wearing sneakers, ripped up black leggings and an oversized black leather letterman's jacket, standing outside his dead neighbor's door. Her incessant knocking was like someone plucking painfully on his nerves like overly taught guitar strings.
As he unlocked the door, he heard, "Excuse me, have you s-"
Barely glancing at her, he muttered, "No, I'm sorry," before quickly slipping inside. He worried that if she wasn't horrified by his appearance-covered in all manner of bodily fluids and dirt-she'd see the guilt written all over his face. He knew he should tell her something, but what? He was dealing with too much pain and sleep deprivation to be able to handle that situation appropriately, so he focused on showering instead.
Twenty minutes later, he exited the bathroom and flinched. She was still knocking, only now she was also calling out, "Sarah! C'mon Sarah, open up! Hello? Sarah! It's Liz! Come on, Sarah! Open the door! Hello?-"
There was a brief pause and then he heard her shout angrily, "FUCK YOU, TOO, LADY. JUST GET BACK IN YOUR ROOM, THIS DOESN'T CONCERN YOU." Sam let out a groan, quickly running the threadbare towel over himself and yanking on some underwear and PJ pants while listening to her one-sided shouting match with whom he assumed was another perturbed motel guest.
He had barely gotten his white v-neck undershirt on when he heard, "YEA I'M REAL SCARED! COME DOWN AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE ANY TIME BITCH! ROOM 16! ANY. TIME!"
As his shirt draped down his torso, Sam's head jerked up; he was in room 16!
"Hey! Wait a mi-" He strode to the door in two large steps and yanked it open, coming face to face with her. Her arms were stretched out and resting on either side of his door frame, a smug grin spread across her face.
"So, look," She began in a startlingly chipper tone for the late hour, "I'm trying to find my sister. Her name is Sarah and the front desk clerk says she checked in with her disgusting, abusive pimp-'boyfriend' two days ago. I've been here waiting and knocking for hours but there's no answer. Have you seen her?"
He stared at her, stunned and unsure what to say. He really did not want to have this conversation right now. He didn't want to have to tell yet another person that their loved one was killed by monsters. Not now. He'd call the authorities with an anonymous tip before going to sleep; they'd find the bodies and handle all of that. Just this once.
Before he could answer, she pulled out her phone and began touching the screen, "Here, uh, here's a picture from last Christmas. It's the last time I saw her, but she's been texting and calling ever since." She held up the phone so that he could see the picture.
Sam tried hard to hide his grimace when he instantly recognized the woman who'd died in his arms a few short hours earlier.
Finally, with a gulp and what he hoped was an even tone, he said "I… I haven't seen her, I'm sorry, I-"
Liz slumped her shoulders, but pressed, "I'm just really worried about her. I never would have let her leave with that fuckhead on Christmas if I'd known she was pregnant."
"Pregnant?" All of the color drained from Sam's face. He'd heard plenty of fighting from the couple during their stay but never anything that sounded like a baby.
"Yea. Had the baby three weeks ago. A boy," As she quickly scrolled through her pictures to find another, she rambled, "I have his birth photo but he doesn't look the same now, I-oh, here it is-she texted me this three days ago." She held the phone up to him again and he saw a picture of a tiny, bright red potato, sound asleep with the sides of his mouth turned up into a smile.
"She said it was his first smile," He finally looked up at her, her sorrowful tone yanking ever harder at his guilty conscience. Wiping the tears that slid down her cheeks, she joked, "I told her it was probably just gas."
He took one more look at the picture and something caught his eye, "What's he wrapped in?"
"Oh," She chuckled and rolled her eyes, "if she didn't have a clean blanket for him, she would use the hand towels in their motel rooms. Said they were the perfect size."
Shit.
"What?" She asked and Sam realized he'd cursed out loud with a frustrated sigh.
"Er-just-hold on," Sam closed the door in her face and rushed to change into street clothes, before grabbing his gun and car keys. He tried to stave off the panic he felt and to reason calmly with the frantic voice in his head reminding him about the bundle of towels he'd seen her carrying to the truck that night
Surely if there had been any babies at the cabin he would have found them, right?!
Did she really look though? Babies are small and easy to miss...
Babies aren't usual werewolf food though, the hearts are too small to be of any good. She could have been carrying ANYTHING in those towels! Or nothing!
Are you ever that lucky?
Shut up.
When he opened the door again, Liz was waiting a few feet away, leaning on the hood of a black car.
Sam walked briskly over and ordered, "Get in," nodding at the Impala she was sitting on.
Her jaw dropped slightly, looking at him like he was crazy, "Wha-why?" He paused for a moment, giving her a despondent look. "I mean, no offense, Guy, but you're a complete stranger. I'm just looking for my sister, I don-"
With a deep, miserable sigh, he yanked open the driver's side door and admitted, "I know where your sister is. And maybe your nephew, too."
He disappeared inside and she stood in shock, staring at the air where he just was. On one hand, getting into a car with a stranger was a major no-go. On the other hand, she needed to find her family and she had a terrible feeling in her stomach. When the car roared to life she was startled out of her stupor. Running her hand carefully over the concealed knife she had tucked into the back waistband of her pants, she took a deep breath before rushing to get in the passenger's seat.
Sam, worried about the possibility that he left a defenseless baby alone in the woods, raced back to the cabin. How could he have been so careless? It had been too early to get back out hunting again. His grief had made him sloppy and it had cost how many innocent lives? He hadn't been able to save her sister and now, potentially, a baby not even a month old had perished because he'd been distracted.
He was startled out of his internal berating when Liz asked, "So, my sister?"
With a grimace, he blurted, "your sister is dead." There was never a good way to tell someone that news, but, he certainly hadn't meant to be so blunt. He was so screwed up right now and was screwing everything around him up, too.
"Excuse me?" she sputtered.
"I'm sorry, shit. I didn't mean to-" He stopped short, unsure how to explain himself.
After a moment of awkward silence, she let out a wry chuckle of denial and warned, "Listen, Buddy, there are people who know where I am and if I don't check in with them, they'll call the police. So, why don't you just tell me where my sister is, or better yet, lets go to the police station together and-"
"I didn't want to be the one to have to tell you about-... about Sarah, I'm very sorry,' He gulped back his tears and tried to explain, "but it seems she got mixed up in something-or mixed up with the wrong people, the really wrong people, and-and I-I tried to-"
"OK, hold it!" She ordered, swallowing back her own tears that were threatening to pour over top of the flood gates, "I don't understand, did you kill my sister? You've got about five seconds to explain what's going on or I'll-"
"I didn't kill your sister!" He let out a frustrated huff; this was all coming out wrong and he was struggling to get a handle on his emotions. "I came here to track down a group of… bad people. Really, really bad people. People who kill and who have been killing multiple others in town. Your sister-I don't know why she was there but she unintentionally helped me find these bad people."
"I don't understand, I-"
"Last night," He wasn't even sure what that meant anymore, considering how long he'd been awake at this point, "I saw her leave the motel and get into a truck used by one of the-er-bad people. I tailed it to a cabin where the group had been hiding out. When I was sure it was them, I went in and… took care of it."
"You… 'took care of it?' I don't understand. What do you mean you were 'tracking a group of bad people'? What are you, a cop or something? FBI? Where's my sister?!"
"No, I'm not a cop, I'm-... I'm just a guy. Trying to do some good by stopping some bad." He gave her a mournful look and sighed, "I just didn't get there in time to stop them from hurting your sister. I'm so sorry."
She sat in shock for about a quarter mile stretch, at a loss as to how to feel. Did she even believe him? She knew the minute Sarah got mixed up with that drug dealing pimp, her life was in danger but she never actually expected her to die. It was incomprehensible; Liz was the big sister supposed to protect her, which is exactly what she was doing now. Was she really too late?
"And… my nephew?" She finally choked out, struggling with her emotions, not to mention her sanity.
"I didn't know she had a baby. I'd heard her and her 'boyfriend'," He glanced at her with a questioning face but she wasn't able to offer him confirmation just then, "fighting a lot but I never heard a baby. If I had known I would have-but I didn't know until she said-I would have searched harder-I would have saved-I-there was no baby, I-I... I don't think?"
"What are you talking about? No baby where? Where is my sister?!" She blurted, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Sam hesitated and she heard a few sniffles coming from his direction before he said, "When I saw her leave that night… she was carrying a bundle of towels to the truck. I didn't think anything of it at the time, so I didn't think to look for a baby!"
"Look where?!"
Just then, he turned off the highway and drove into the woods for another quarter mile before coming upon a small, secluded cabin. There was an old beat up chevy in the driveway, as well as a newer model sedan, and a jeep parked along the side.
They exited the car together but Sam was quick to order, "Stay here. I saw her put the bundle in the back of the truck, so I'm gonna check there first."
He waited for her reluctant nod of confirmation before jogging over to the truck. It was dark and hard to see but he could just make out a small lump of something in the spot he'd seen Sarah place the towels. Yanking on the doors, only to find them locked, he quickly removed his jacket, wrapped it around his hand and forearm, then carefully broke out the front driver's window. It was the window farthest away from the bundle.
He tore into the cab and reached into the backseat, where he gingerly unwrapped the heap and three bricks of cocaine fell out. It took a moment for the shock to wear off before Sam started shimmying backward out of the truck.
With a relieved sigh, he turned toward Liz and assured, "Good news! It's only co-" but he stopped short when he saw that she wasn't where he left her. His neck snapped toward the front door of the cabin, which was now wide open. In a blink, a light illuminated from somewhere deep inside and a split second later he heard a blood curdling scream.
The next two hours seemed strange and fragmented; she could barely focus on anything long enough to make things make sense. Her sister was dead. Blood was everywhere. She needed to find her nephew. He wasn't there. The stranger was talking now. His name was… Sam? Had she told him her name? Could he give Sarah something called a hunter's funeral? She was holding Sarah's jewelry; a chain that held their dead parent's wedding bands, she wore as a necklace and an old, silly gumball machine ring, shaped like a half heart with the word 'friends' on it. She'd given Sarah that at the roller rink on her 11th birthday. Sarah's body was wrapped in sheets. Despite the raging fire outside, she was frozen to the bone. She didn't realize bodies burned so fast. Then the two of them were driving again. The familiar motel lights felt blinding to her dark, all consuming sorrow.
Sam invited her inside to wash off the blood and she'd followed him up to his door without a thought. She was about to disappear inside behind him when Sam froze, hearing a strange noise. She'd heard it too: A short, high-pitched squeal, like an angry piglet. It was coming from inside Sarah's room; she shared a stunned expression with him in the silence. When it happened again, they both jumped into action.
Liz grabbed the door handle. Twisting and yanking hard, she pounded futilely on the cheap, hollow wood. Sam pulled a small leather satchel from his pocket and removed a few tools, then gently but firmly nudged her out of the way. He made quick work of the lock and in seconds the two of them were inside the dark room.
The only light was coming from the dingy sconce near the bathroom sink and her eyes had to adjust from the stadium lights of the motel's exterior. The dim yellow glow was just enough for her to barely make out her nephew's little pink face and hands amongst a pile of fabric across the room. The tiny little human was squirming and fussing, a loud squawk escaping every few moments in that way that was intended to warn a parent that shit was about to hit the fan if someone didn't tend to him soon.
"Oh my god, DEAN!" She shouted, rushing toward him and scooping him up into her arms. She planted kisses all over his little face as he began to cry. Distracted by her sudden elation, she was only vaguely aware of Sam talking to her. She pulled back to stare lovingly at the baby's angry wailing and asked him, "What?"
"Dean?" He asked, sounding gobsmacked.
She nodded happily, glancing at him with a tearful confirmation, "My nephew!"
"Your nephew's name… is Dean?"
"Oh, I know it's a little old fashioned, but Sarah-who practically only saw a doctor to give birth-swore she was having a girl. Wanted to name her Nadine, after our mom. But when this little munchkin popped out with a surprise Mr. Winky," She grinned at the adorably furious child, "she decided to drop the 'Na' but kept the 'Dean.'"
Sam watched her pace excitedly around the room with him, observing the sway of her hips and lilting sound of her soft humming as she gently tried to soothe his crying. It warmed his heart to see that the baby's anger seemed directly related to the amount of pure joy on her face. As he screamed louder and louder, she only smiled wider and wider.
"I think it's a great name," He finally decided, quietly.
She hadn't heard him, too focused on the baby, "So, uh, I don't see any formula or diapers around and obviously he needs something."
Sam, grateful for the baby distracting her from his leering, did a quick sweep of the motel room and agreed with her assessment. Other than a few clothing items, some dingy, age-inappropriate toys, and used diapers, the place was void of anything to care for him.
"You're right," He stated, running a hand over his face. His initial joy upon discovering the baby alive and healthy was starting to wane and his exhaustion slowly tugged at him. "Uh, there's a 24 hour pharmacy about half a mile into town. I'll run and grab some supplies?"
Liz finally looked away from the baby long enough to actually look at Sam. He looked bone-tired with deep black circles under his eyes and her heart twinged guiltily. She was so grateful to him for helping her find her nephew. There was no way she could ever thank him enough, and she didn't want to keep imposing on him. But, now she had a baby and no way to care for it, so she had no choice but to accept his hospitality a little longer.
However, Liz instead suggested, "No offense but you look tired enough to fall asleep at the wheel. So, how about I go get the supplies," She walked over to him and slowly began shifting the baby toward him, "And you stay here with Dean?"
"Wha-No!" Sam instantly tried to protest, but she didn't back down. Suddenly, his large arms were wrapped underneath a baby who's thunderous screams made him seem far mightier than his eight pounds felt. "Liz, I really don't think this is a good ide-" Before he could finish his protestations, Dean's cries quieted down to almost complete silence. They watched in surprise as he simply stared curiously up at Sam, resting comfortably in his hold.
"Well, that settles it," She murmured with a definitive nod as the baby's eyes started to droop sleepily. Sam could hardly argue; he certainly wasn't going to do anything to make him start screaming again if he could help it. "Looks like he's happy, best not to mess with it. I'll run down to the pharmacy." She politely refused when Sam tried to offer her his car keys and some cash. Heading for the door, she explained, "I have money and it's only half a mile. I'll be back in less than an hour! Get some rest if you can. You know what they say: if the baby's sleeping, you should be sleeping." Liz chuckled at Sam's exaggerated eye roll before taking her leave.
"Resting is the last thing I'll be doing," He huffed softly, nervously walking Dean around the room. He glanced down at the small person in his arms with some trepidation. The small, murky grey eyes stared back up at him calmly for a moment and Sam felt unworthy of the trust this baby had in him.
"Well," He began in a low murmur, but couldn't help hesitating. Feeling kind of stupid, he glanced around the room and then looked back at the baby.
With a soft clearing of the throat, he said, "Hello. I'm Sam." Then, carefully shifting his arms, he reached a hand toward the baby's and placed a large finger into his tiny palm awkwardly, "Nice to meet you… Dean."
The small, squishy hand wiggled against his finger for a minute and then the baby let out a large yawn that took up almost his whole, wee face. Sam couldn't help but smile, watching his eyes fall closed slowly. A moment later, the room was quiet save for a few soft baby snores.
When his own yawn snuck up on him, Sam tried to shake off the fatigue but it wasn't working. He gave the baby one more look of uncertainty and muttered, "Well, alright. If you insist," before situating a chair up against the wall and carefully sitting down.
Adjusting the sleeping newborn into a position Sam was sure was secure, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. Just to rest.
They snapped open suddenly again when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. Liz was standing in front of him then and he realized what must have happened. Quickly looking down at his chest, he let out a grateful sigh when he observed that the baby was still there.
With a protective squeeze, he lifted one hand to rub his eyes and apologized, "Shit, I'm so sorry. I just closed my eyes to rest for a minute and must have passed out. Did you ge-"
"Sam."
When he finally looked at her, the sleep wiped from his eyes, they widened to saucers. Liz's eyes were red, tears streamed down her welted cheek, and there was thick, wet red liquid covering her hands, neck, and the front of her clothes. It took him at least 15 terrifying seconds to make sure she wasn't a dream or hallucination.
Finally he blurted, "Oh my God, are you hurt?! What the he-" But when Dean began to stir against him and both of them froze.
Then, as if on instinct, she both moved into action. Trying to keep the newborn from seeing her covered in blood, Liz quickly walked away from them to hide in a corner. After what she'd been through, it didn't occur to her how ridiculous that sounded.
Gently cradling the bundle on his chest, Sam carefully moved from the chair and over to the bed. With his long arms, he was able to set the still sleeping baby down right in the middle without so much as a whimper. Then, he took the pillows and stuffed them between the blanket and the mattress so he couldn't fall off the bed accidentally.
Once he was sure the baby was safe, he marched over to her and began inspecting her closely, "Liz, tell me where you're hurt? What happened, do I need to take you to the hospital? This is a LOT of blood, I-"
"It's not mine," She croaked, staring off into the space over his shoulder.
"What? Whose-" He saw the expression on her face and it frightened him. Guiding her over to the bathroom sink, he wet a washcloth and then began wiping her skin down. In a flash, he was done and he'd identified a small gash above her eyebrow, bruising on her arms and throat, and a red welt on her left cheek. Nothing that would cause the amount of blood she'd been-and still was-covered in.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, he forced her to make eye contact and asked, "Liz, what happened?"
She stared at his eyes for a long time, not really seeing him, then finally blinked rapidly out of her trance and just said, "Lucas." Sam waited patiently for her to explain who Lucas was. "He-I was coming back with the supplies and he was-" with a gulp she squeezed her eyes shut tight, "He was shooting up behind some dumpsters at the back of the parking lot."
"Who's Lucas?"
"Sarah's boyfriend."
Sam's entire body tensed. He'd never explained to Liz that, while Sarah's boyfriend might have been some kind of monster, he wasn't the monster who'd killed her sister. At least, not directly.
"The moment I saw him, I-" Her eyes snapped up to his and he gulped. She looked terrified. Then it all came out in a flood of panicked whispers, "I just saw red. He'd killed my sister, Sam, what was I supposed to do? Just walk away?! Let him get away with it?! I couldn't! I wouldn't." Her emotions were bouncing off the walls, one minute she was petrified, the next furious, then so distraught he could barely make out what she was telling him. Sam's guilt felt like a white hot knife plunging into his already battered and broken heart.
"At first I was just screaming at him, telling him he was a murderer! He had the nerve to deny it. Tried to act like she'd just run away and that I was crazy but I fucking saw her body, I SAW WHAT HE DID TO HER!" Liz's skin was crawling with anger as she remembered his callous disregard for her sister's life. "I wanted to kill him. I've never felt like that before, but I did. I had the knife but… I was frozen-stuck in place or something and I couldn't move no matter how hard I tried. All I could do was just keep screaming that he was a murderer hoping someone would hear me and know the truth." She was sobbing as quietly as she could at that point, her face just a red splotchy mess under the bruising and smeared blood.
Sam grimaced helplessly, his eyes filling with tears. He ran his hands through his hair and then over his face, trying to remain calm. Then, he gently took her shaking hands in his and prompted, "Then what happened?"
"He just started... laughing," she growled, squeezing her eyes closed tight with anger, "and stumbling away, so I told him I was going to call the cops and tell them everything. Including about the cocaine he was using her to sell for him." She paused and suddenly gripped Sam's hands tightly, looking at him with wild eyes, "He turned around after I said that and I swear to God if a man could strike you dead with one look, I wouldn't be standing here right now. He… he came for me, grabbed me and started swinging. After that it's a blur."
Suddenly Liz pulled away from him and covered her face with her blood-stained hands, "I-I tried to scream, I tried to get away from him, but he seemed impossibly strong. His hands were around my throat and I-I … suddenly the knife was in my hands and-and-he'd killed Sarah!-he was going to kill me, so I-just-and-I-there was so much blood-"
"OK, Liz, where is Lucas now?"
Without a word, she turned and walked from the room. she got halfway across the parking lot before glancing back to make sure Sam was following. He was there but a distance behind, so she kept walking until she reached the front of the dumpsters and then stopped. When Sam caught up with her, she motioned around the small row of large garbage bins. He gave her a troubled expression before disappearing behind them.
His demeanor was far more calm than she had expected when he reappeared next to her, holding the untouched bag full of formula and diapers she'd had from the store. There was a strange expression on his face, like resolve and determination mixed with culpability. He didn't seem phased by the dead body he'd surely seen back there.
After a moment of quiet, contemplative pacing, Sam stopped in front of her and said, "It's gonna be OK."
Liz's jaw dropped and a psychotic, angry bark-laugh escaped, "'OK!?' How is this OK, Sam?! My sister is dead, I'm going to prison, and my nephew is headed for foster care because the only person left in the entire world to care for him just murdered what could be his father behind a motel dumpster." Sam looked to the ground shamefully, shaking his head. She threw her head back and screamed then, "NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS OK!"
"Shh! Liz, stop! Listen to me," Sam grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her out of her panic for a moment. When she made tearful eye contact, he said with a definitive tone, "I know you don't know me, but I'm going to help you and your nephew. No one's going to prison or foster care, everything is going to be fine. I. Promise."
Half of her was filled with relief, the other half confusion, "I don't unders-"
He grabbed her hand, and the bag of baby supplies, and started pulling her over to the Impala. Once at the passenger's side, he opened the door, set the bag on the seat, and climbed half way in for something. After a couple minutes of shuffling, he climbed back out and he turned to her again. There was an old flip phone, a scrap piece of paper, and car keys in his hands.
He first put the keys into Liz's left hand, closing her fingers around them, "Take these. Get Dean and drive here." He held up the piece of scrap paper, before forcefully curling it into her other hand and then sliding the cell phone into her jacket pocket. "You have to leave your cell phone here. If there's any emergency, speed dial #1 on that, it's my cell. In the trunk is a suitcase; when you get at least 20 miles out of town, pull over and change your clothes but keep them in the trunk-that's important. Don't stop anywhere, don't talk to anyone. Just. Drive." She stood there stunned for a moment, processing his orders. When she finally looked him in the eyes, hers were full of questions and he gave her a small, kind smile, "I promise you that I'm going to take care of this, take care of you. And Dean. Everything will be OK."
Liz stared at him in utter bewilderment. Who was this man? Why was he helping her? She'd just killed someone and instead of calling the cops on her he was telling her he'd 'take care of it.' Could she trust him? Could he actually help her stay out of jail for this? How could she ever repay him?
She could see that his stormy hazel eyes were deep pools of warring emotions and she assumed hers were a mirror image. The crushing weight of emotions coursing through her body at that moment couldn't handle it and without a thought she lifted up on her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his lips. He tensed but didn't pull away.
The kiss wasn't intended to be sexual or romantic. It was simply the only way she could think to convey how grateful she was in that moment, and she needed him to know it. Still, when she felt the pressure from his lips push back against her as he finally responded, something deep within her, crushed under every other emotion she was feeling, stirred - just barely - and it felt nice. The chaste kiss only lasted for a moment before they both pulled away at the same time.
"Thank you, Sam, I don't kn-" He cut her off silently by wrapping both his long arms around her, pulling her against him, and squeezing tight. She felt a strong kiss against the top of her head.
When he pulled back, he instructed, "You have to go now. You'll be safe at that location until I get there. Remember: No unnecessary stops and avoid being seen by anyone."
Liz took a breath to start asking him a question but somewhere in the distance a siren rang out and startled them both.
"Shit! Do you think that's-"
He cut off the beginning of her panic by ordering sternly, "Go!" and then shoved her gently toward the motel door and her nephew. Once he'd started the process of her forward motion, she didn't stop and less than 10 minutes later she and baby Dean were on the road.
~three months later~
Sam looked up from his paperwork when Elvis jumped into his lap and started kneading his thighs with sharp claws. The cantankerous maine coon was never shy about demanding attention when he wanted it. With a sigh, he set his work down on the cluttered desk, between two framed photos of Liz and Dean, to give some love to his new friend. They both jumped in surprise when, moments later, the doorbell rang through the house. Sam checked his watch; it was already past eight.
"Was that the doorbell?" He heard her call from the bathroom. Elvis leapt from his lap and ran toward her voice.
Sliding back his chair, he got up and confirmed, "Yeah."
"Can you get-"
"Yep, got it." He assured, walking through the dark living room. He surveyed the porch through the window, but saw no one and circled around the door to carefully open it, revealing a comically large bouquet of flowers. Sam's neck snapped back as he took in the extravagant white and purple mixed arrangement. A few of the flowers had stems that stretched past his knees. He didn't know what to think. Maybe they were delivered to the wrong house?
With a shrug, he brought the bouquet inside. When he set them down on the dining room table, he noticed a small lavender card tucked in the middle. He plucked it from the holder and saw the words "Happy Birthday" scrawled in gold on the front.
Huh. Is it her birthday? He almost called out to her to ask, and then it hit him. Looking down at his watch, he confirmed: it was his birthday.
"Wow! Those are gorgeous. Who are they from?" Liz startled him from the hall archway, adjusting a naked baby Dean to rest on her side comfortably.
"Er-I'm not sure-uh, hey, is it bath time yet?" He tried to deflect with a curious smile, holding the card down low against his leg self-consciously.
"Nice try," She smirked, walking over to him to look at the card he was hiding. The almost 4 month old in her arms waved his hands up in the air and back down excitedly, trying to grab at the wayward flower tips. Upon seeing the writing, she gasped, "Is it your birthday?"
"Uhhhh…" He hesitated, "-pparently?" Holding up his fingers for Dean to grasp at and yank, he explained sheepishly, "I guess I forgot?"
With an understanding smile, she leaned over to smell one of the beautiful flowers, a white rose, "Well, obviously someone remembered. Who're they from?"
Sam shrugged helplessly in reply, gingerly opening the card. After removing the note inside, he gave the envelope to Dean to play with. She saved him from immediately trying to eat it, but let him keep it because it made an entertaining crinkle.
After a brief silence, he smirked and blushed, "They're from Donna."
"That makes sense." She nodded, smiling and looking over the bouquet appreciatively again. "Wasn't she the one that sent us nearly a small country's worth of baby supplies?"
Sam made a noise of confirmation, then joked, "Right. I think she might also be the only one with the new address."
Liz chuckled and reached out to squeeze his arm, "I wish I'd known it was your birthday. I would have gotten you something; we could have celebrated!"
The introverted man shook his head vehemently and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and kissing the top of their heads gratefully.
"I have everything I need right here," He said earnestly, lifting his other hand up to rub baby Dean's bald head. He gave her a meaningful expression and she flushed hot from head to toe. With a stupid grin, she lifted up on her tippy toes to kiss him. He took the hint, leaning down to meet her lips half way, and kissed her fiercely.
They got lost in each other for a moment, both of them relishing how the other one made them feel. Hopeful, safe, and deeply cared for. When Sam pulled away from the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers.
"Is it my turn to bathe him?" He murmured.
"It's your birthday, I'll take care of it."
"Are you kidding?! Bathtime fun with this little man," He pulled back and gently lifted Dean out of her arms, tossing him up into the air, and exclaimed, "would be the best way to spend my birthday."
Dean had his thumb in his toothless mouth and let out bubbly laughter, flying into the air and then back down again a few times. His eyes were dinner plates from the thrill, shrieking on each downswing.
"Careful, he's gonna pee on you," Liz warned with a grin. Sam shrugged her off but stopped his airplane game.
Heading for the bathroom, he instructed Dean to, "Say: then it's a good thing we're taking a bath, huh mama? Huh? A little pee never hurt anyone, right? Naaah."
A few hours later, Sam had just finished putting the sleeping baby down for bed and went to look for Liz. He started in the kitchen, so he could grab a beer on the way. As luck would have it, there she was, standing at the counter with her back to him. From what little he could see, it looked like she was making food, which seemed strange for the hour.
"Liz?"
She jumped a little and looked over her shoulder, "Shit! Don't look yet!"
"Wha-"
"Turn around!"
"Why?!" He laughed, jokingly trying to sneak a peek. "What are you doing over there, sneaky?"
"Nothing, just turn around! I'm almost done!"
With an exaggerated eye-roll, he obeyed. About 30 seconds later he heard her shuffling closer to him.
"OK. You can look."
When he turned around, his eyebrows raised curiously. On the island between them was a plate which had what looked like a split banana covered in yogurt and topped with blueberries, granola, and a few Hershey's kisses on it. After a few seconds, he looked up at her with skeptical eyes, a small smile forming at the edges of his mouth.
Liz explained, blushing, "Tomorrow's grocery day, so I didn't have much more than Dean's snacks and my emergency chocolate stash to work with but I wanted to make you something. It's not a cake but…I thought you deserved to celebrate, so..." She trailed off sheepishly, suddenly feeling a bit stupid about the strange, messy meal.
Sam was stunned. He didn't know what to say. This time six months ago, he'd assumed he'd be drinking his way through his next birthday in a pit of despair. Everything about his current situation was unthinkable. Then there she was. With baby Dean… and Elvis, he'd later discovered. And, though the situation may have started because he felt responsible to protect her after what happened, it had already grown into so much more.
His enormous loss was still a damp blanket draped over his heart, but he knew deep down he was falling in love with her. And Dean… OK, the cat, too. This level of happiness was something he'd been prepared never to feel again; he knew how incredibly lucky he was to share this-and every-day with her.
"Oh! And, no candles, so I just thought-" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a match book. Twisting one out and striking it, she held it up with a nervous smile, "Happy Birthday, Sam. Make a wish."
He stared at the burning match, grinning uncontrollably. Then, shaking his head, he took the match from her fingers and snuffed it out.
Taking her face in his hands, he assured lovingly, "You and little D are everything I would wish for," before scooping her up into his arms and passionately capturing her lips.
Just then, a small part of him regretted forgetting that it was his birthday, because he knows he would have enjoyed spending it with her.
There's still a few hours, he thought happily, before lifting her up and carrying her to the bedroom.