A/N: Another long one for you. And I'm sorry, I don't know what happened but Sam just kinda ended up turning into a pretentious dick in this chapter. Only for a little bit though. Thanks to everyone who has been reading up to now.
Chapter twenty-three
Sam had never had homemade pancakes before - only ones from a diner - and holy crap, he had been missing out. Pamela joined them before too long, and then Bobby came in from outside, wiping his hands on an old, oily rag.
Dean rose to make more pancakes while Bobby put more coffee on.
"I think we need to work out a plan," Bobby said as he settled himself at the table, "We need a proper strategy for stopping that ritual and getting those sacrifices out of there."
"We'll need a distraction," assessed Pamela, "There's seven psychics and the king of hell, we can't go toe to toe with that kind of power, not if we want to keep all the victims alive too."
"I'll distract them," volunteered Sam, "Azazel's going to know I'm there anyway and I'm the only one they'll believe would go up against them alone."
"You can't just face the king of hell alone," protested Dean through gritted teeth, making Sam begin to wonder where all the anger came from, but then Bobby was speaking.
"No, but he does make a valid point. Sam's probably the only one who could survive a run in with the psychic kids - but them and the king of hell? Dean has a point too, Sam."
Sam felt a cold dread trickle down his spine at the thought of anyone else in that kitchen coming under Azazel's notice because of him. "No. Every time Azazel found me, someone died. I'm not just gonna lead you to him like lambs to the slaughter."
Pamela's hand slid over Sam's and gripped his tightly. "But this time we'll be prepared. You're a lot more powerful than you were, Dean's a hunter now, we won't be taken by surprise... And I can call in some favours, I know a few people who might be able to help."
"No." Sam protested shaking his head, "I can't ask more people to put themselves in jeopardy for me when this is my problem."
"Sam, if Azazel manages to raise Lucifer it will be everyone's problem, hunter or not. The fate of the world hinges on this. One person is not going to be enough to stop this, with enough good hunters we have a chance to save everyone. Plus, that's what hunters do, they kill the evil ugly to save the innocent."
Her words and her demeanour were meant to be comforting, and Sam tried to let her words warm him, but there was one icy shard embedded in the pit of his stomach that refused to thaw. Looking around the table he saw everyone else satisfied with her suggestion, he wanted to argue more but Sam had survived this long by knowing when to pick his battles.
Bobby grunted, "Ok, you go make some calls. Whoever wants to help can concentrate on rescuing the sacrifices while we distract that evil son of a bitch." Bobby indicated himself and Dean, then turned to Sam and Pamela, "Now we have a better idea of how to hurt him, we should be able to hold out for a little while. Then we'll leave the psychic stuff to you two."
Sam's efforts to devise ways of trapping and killing - or at least hurting - Azazel had yielded only a few results. He still wasn't entirely sure how effective they would be, but nevertheless handed over a list of ingredients at Bobby's request. Pamela was practically shoving them out the door for a hunt, saying they needed to practice working together in stressful conditions - which Sam agreed was a good idea - so he was relying on Bobby to gather some ingredients that were harder to come by than a penguin in Arizona.
While Sam was packing for their road trip, he heard the muffled sounds of Dean leaving another message for their dad. He had done so on occasion when he found a moment alone and Sam felt a little guilty as he finally succumbed to his curiosity and strained his ears to hear Dean's peculiar form of confession.
"It's only a month to go now until we try and kill the demon - we made sort of a battle plan this morning and we're calling in more hunters as reinforcements - but when that's all over... I want to keep hunting. I don't care what you think, I feel like I'm actually making a difference, you know? The right kind of difference this time. Anyway... Bye, I guess.
Sam hoped Dean found some catharsis in leaving the messages and they weren't simply the constant disappointment of unanswered prayers sent up to some indifferent higher power.
The first hunt they went on was a ghost and Sam instinctually threw himself infront of the girl even as he wrestled telekinetically to push the ghost away, earning a slash on the arm from the ghost's hook. It had been... different, trying to push the ghost away. Maybe it was because ghosts were more like energy signatures manifesting, rather than physical objects?
But Dean just eyed the cut on his arm and asked if that felt physical.
Sam shrugged helplessly. "All I know is that it felt really slippery, like I couldn't get a good grip on it."
Dean didn't seem worried as he replied, "Well, you managed it in the end - and that's why were out here isn't it? So these kinds of things don't take us by surprise when we're up against Azazel."
They hunted virtually non-stop for the next three weeks. Dean was getting better at recognising hunts in the paper and Pamela called a few times giving them hunts and Sam even had a vision pointing them to one, all in all giving them little time for anything but hunting.
So Sam pitted his powers against the like of werewolves, wendigos and even more ghosts - each time coming a little closer to figuring out how to stop them slipping in his metaphorical grip - and once even a stag who had got caught up in a fence. Dean thought that was hilarious and said he looked like a Disney princess, calling him Snow White for the rest of the week. Much to Sam's chargrin.
A week before halloween, Sam and Dean arrived back at Bobby's, exhausted but satisfied. Dean wandered off and left Sam to field questions about the recent hunts and Pamela gave him a small list of the hunters who would be joining them against Azazel, most of them were old friends he would otherwise look forward to seeing, but instead he could only feel extremely nervous about revealing his secret to. There was one name he didn't recognise but Bobby assured him she was trustworthy, and more importantly, indispensable.
As he walked into the living room he caught Dean red-handed on the phone, talking about Sam rescuing the stag and Dean calling him Show White.
"Hey! What are you telling people that for?" He squawked indignantly.
A wrestling match ensued as Sam tried to end the call before Dean could embarrass him further. He succeeded after a few minutes and gave a triumphant but stern warning about telling people to call him Show White, but neither could keep a straight face and they were giggling as Sam finally ended the call.
Dean compromised by agreeing to keep the more embarrassing nicknames just between the two of them. Sam squinted suspiciously at Dean but eventually he nodded, pretty sure that he wouldn't get a better offer out of him any time soon, and helped him off the floor.
Bobby ordered pizza that night as Dean couldn't reasonably be expected to cook and Bobby's cooking was something no one was willing to suffer through when they were meant to be celebrating three week's successful hunting.
Sam spent the next two days with Pamela, drilling him on every conceivable aspect of his telekinesis - double checking the refinement of his control, the weight he could carry, his endurance and how many things he could juggle at once. After that, she told him to rest so that he would be in peak condition for the hunt of their lives.
It was on the fourth day after their return that John showed up.
Sam had been out the back helping Bobby - as much as passing tools could be called help - when he heard Dean frantically calling his name.
Immediately Sam was on the move, thinking the worst as he did, but skidded to a stop as he saw who was at the door. Bobby, not far behind him, almost bowled him over as Sam froze in the hallway at the sight of his dad.
He never did find out how they had convinced John to help rescue him from that gang.
How, exactly, had they talked some sense into him?
As he wavered on the spot, Bobby muttered in his ear, "I'll leave you lot to catch up," before prodding Sam in the back to move and returning to his work.
"Hi Sam." His dad said over the shoulder of a Dean who had gotten over his own surprise and was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Hi John," Sam replied absently, still a little dazed by the sight before him.
"I'll get us some beers," Dean suggested quickly and hurried off to the kitchen to retrieve them while Sam showed John to the living room.
Sam lowered himself slowly into a seat across the room from John, keeping his wary gaze on his estranged father, who was suddenly, inexplicably here. Sam could only guess at John's motivations for turning up at Bobby's - and mysteries had rarely worked out well for him in the past.
"Why are you here?" Sam blurted out.
John looked quite taken aback at the question, although to be fair Sam had asked rather bluntly, and maybe there had been a note of accusation that he couldn't stop from creeping into his voice... Internally cringing at his own rudeness, Sam floundered for a way to save the situation but before he had even an inkling of what to say, Dean showed up with the promised beers.
"Yeah, dad, why are you here?"
"You, actually, Dean."
"Yeah? " Dean asked with wide, awe filled eyes.
"Yeah, I got all your messages... and as I listened, I started to realise what was important - and it was you, and Sam... Not Mary."
"Wow, really?" Dean seemed surprised, "I didn't think you listened to them."
If Dean was surprised, Sam was even more so - not surprised that John had listened to Dean's messages, but that John had included Sam when he spoke about the people that were most important to him. How could that be true when John had quite literally tossed him out of his house with barely a thought as soon as John had seen what he was?
Not that Sam was bitter or anything.
Not that Sam had had a glimmer of hope that he could finally gain some modicum of parental affection. Affection that would prove definitively that he was worthy of love and not just some runt to be pitied because hunting was a hard life that no-one wanted to see foisted on a kid... Only for that glimmer to be snuffed out with blood and harsh words.
Wow, clearly Sam had been holding onto that more than he realised.
"I did." Replied John, "You sounded like you grew up a whole lot from that reckless kid who was always angry at the world."
Dean basked in what Sam assumed was the highest praise he had received from John in years. A few moments passed and they descended into silence and Sam started to despair for their family reunion until John cleared his throat.
"So Sam, Dean tells me you have more superpowers now?"
"They're not superpowers," Sam protested icily, "they're the result of me having demon blood in me."
The atmosphere of tentative reconciliation was rapidly crumbling but John took a deep breath and valiantly tried to save it. "Dean said that you saved his life, that sounds like a superpower to me," John said quietly.
If it had been someone else saying that - maybe Bobby or Pamela - Sam might have felt a seed of hope plant itself in his chest - probably not enough to banish the darkness that had been beaten into his heart, but maybe just enough to push it back a little.
But coming from John, it twisted the knot inside his gut that little bit tighter. Why was this man telling him exactly what he wanted to hear when John had already made it abundantly clear that Sam was something akin to a cockroach in his eyes?
"Superpowers aren't real. And neither are superheroes, they're just a surrogate pantheon for the modern world. They bring comfort to those who need it... only the old gods are real, superheroes are just characters that are too good to be true."
"Dude, what is you problem?" Accused Dean as he whipped his head round to face Sam. "Dad has come all the way over here to see us and you're jumping down his throat at every little thing he says!"
"I'm just telling the truth," Sam corrected dispassionately. He was trying get his emotions back under control, but the more he had been letting them out, using them for his telekinesis, the stronger they had become - and the harder it was to clamp back down on them.
"Why are you being such a dick?" Dean asked standing up.
"Why are you so eager to go running back to the man who abandoned you?" Sam shot back, raising himself and stepping up to Dean.
Dean's expression turned to ice, and then his fist came flying.
"Boys!" shouted John as he pushed them both apart.
Sam stared daggers at Dean for a moment before turning sharply to John, "why are you really here?"
"I heard that my sons were planning on doing something dangerous and since I clearly can't stop them, I decided to do my best to protect them."
"You wanna come with us?" Dean asked incredulously, hopefully.
"No," Sam declared.
"What do you mean no?" demanded Dean.
"I mean no," said Sam as his lip twitched halfway into a snarl and his eyes went wild, widening and darting all over. Abruptly he turned and stalked towards the porch.
Sitting out in the cooler air, Sam tried to get his emotions in order; he gulped down the fresh autumn breeze hoping it would cool the fire in his throat and ease his hitching breath. It took longer than he wanted but finally Sam felt himself ease away from the precipice his emotions were balancing precariously upon.
His ears were stinging with the shame of how easily be had become overwhelmed, how was he supposed kill the king of hell, Lucifer's right hand, when he fell apart over a beer with his dad? How could be even expect to survive with such fragile self control?
While Sam was sat internally berrating himself he heard Dean approach - his step was heavy and bold, unlike Pamela's light, easy gait or Bobby's determined shuffle - and then there were two of them sat on the back porch.
"Bobby said you probably just needed a minute but you've been out here for a while now." Dean said mildly.
"You should go and carry on catching up with your dad." Sam replied.
"He's your dad too, y'know. And he actually wants to be there for us."
Sam drained the rest of his beer, slightly spoilt by being held in the afternoon sun for too long. "How can you forgive him so easily?" Sam asked.
"I haven't, not yet anyway. And I don't think dad came here expecting forgiveness right away. I think just wants a chance to earn it."
Sam was silent as he mulled over Dean's words. Eventually he sighed, "It's just all feels so strange."
"Strange how?"
Sam shrugged, "doesn't matter. You go ahead, I'll be there in just a sec."
Dean looked like he was about to argue but thought better of it and instead pushed himself to stand with a nod and went back inside. Sam took a few moments of solitude to steel himself, he wasn't sure what he expected of his dad - or what his dad expected of him, but it could barely go worse than the first time they met.
So with one last deep breath, Sam went back inside to find his dad and Bobby seemingly locked in a staring contest, but at Sam's reappearance, their attention snapped to him. Sam wasn't sure what to do with himself, after spending his whole life avoiding any sort of attention suddenly finding himself the centre of it felt painfully unnatural and he felt a flash of resentment towards his mom that he wasn't as quick to extinguish as he had been when the resentment had previously flared up.
"Sam, I think your father has something he wants to say to you," Bobby said deliberately, "I'll let you two talk it out."
So with Bobby's gruff departure, Sam was left alone with his dad. His eyes travelled over John's face, trying to decipher his expression, over the rest of him, trying to read his body language - Sam didn't notice that he had slid his own foot back into a defensive stance or that he had balled his hands into fists - but he did notice there was a red mark on the side of John's face that hadn't been there before.
"Sam, I'm sorry for how I acted the first time we met," John began, the words dropping uncomfortably from his tongue, "it was the biggest shock I've ever had in my life when I found out about you and even more when I found out about the demons."
Sam could only stare as John was clearly struggling for words.
"I know that's not an excuse," John filled the silence eventually, "but I just didn't know what to do."
"You threw me out of your house," croaked Sam, "you told me never to come back. You threatened us with a shotgun if we ever did..."
John closed his eyes - in irritation? in an attempt to control anger? Could John simply not stand the sight of him anymore? - and took a deep breath.
"You did what you should have," Sam said around the lump that had formed in his throat. He knew his words were true - logically - but the hurt that shot through him as he spoke...
His emotions had been let out of their cage, they had been fed, and they had grown strong.
"No Sam, I didn't." John angled his head to hold Sam's gaze more effectively, "I panicked - and when I panic, I fight. I'll fight whoever is within reach, it doesn't matter who they are."
"What are you saying?" Sam asked doubtfully.
"I was so completely wrong about you Sam, and I was so completely wrong to do what I did... And it was wrong of me to wait until now to admit that and apologise for it... Sam, I'm sorry."
Sam felt his eyes turn glassy, no-one who had ever hurt him had tried to apologise for it later.
John inched forward, "I know saying I'm sorry doesn't mean all that much to you right now, but I just want the chance to make it up to you."
"What changed your mind?"
"A few things." John shrugged one shoulder, "At first it was Bobby, he obviously cares about you a great deal and he would have stopped at nothing to get you back from that gang, people don't get that protective over assholes. And then it was Dean. He left me quite a few voice messages over the last few months, you've turned him into a better person and from what he's been saying, you have led by example. I couldn't be prouder to call you my son."
It should have felt good to have finally heard those words - and it did - but it was accompanied by an anguish that was made up of all the hurts and aches he had felt every time he had failed to hear those words previously.
As his vision began to blur he felt himself be pulled into a hug. He latched on and didn't resist the hand that guided his head to rest on the shoulder infront of him. His breathing shuddered a little as he fought for control of his breath, he managed to calm his lungs but he couldn't stop tears soaking into his father's shirt.
They stood in each other's arms for a little while after Sam had resumed breathing normally, but soon Sam pulled away with a sniff and a swipe of his hand across his cheeks to dry them.
Yes, he had almost - fine, he had cried - but now he must be serious.
"I can't believe you want to help us."
"I'll admit I don't know much of what's going on here, but from what Dean's told me, you guys will need all the help you can get." John clapped a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder, and Sam found it hard to maintain eye contact with the sincerity shining out of John's face and Sam quickly averted his gaze downwards.
With just a little pressure from the hand on his shoulder, Sam allowed himself to be guided towards the seat he had occupied earlier. He lowered himself again into the seat, eyes on his squirming fingers instead of the man sitting across from him.
"I mean it," John said, leaning forward, "I want to help. Just tell me what the plan is - what we're up against."
Sam was grateful to Dean when he chimed in with, "Yeah, well it turns out that the demon's grand plan is to jumpstart the end of days." He leant on the doorway as if he had been standing there the whole time, in fact Sam had no idea how long he had been stood there.
John gaped, "The end of days as in...?"
"As in the apocalypse, hell on earth. He wants to raise Lucifer - as in satan himself - and we think that will trigger a war with heaven, but we don't exactly have any angel contacts we can hit up for the specifics." Dean explained.
John shot Sam a concerned glance as he peeked up at John through his eyelashes. The silence stretched as John seemed to struggle with the enormity of what Dean had dropped on him. Sam didn't really know what to say or do, he didn't know the man. Anyway, the silence was getting heavy again and Sam was too drained to suffer it much longer, he had to say something.
"On halloween night, Azazel is going to perform a ritual in a convent that will allow Lucifer to walk the earth. There are some other hunters coming, they'll rescue the sacrificial victims while we concentrate on the demon and the other psychics." Sam explained softly, watching warily for John's reaction.
John's eyes seemed to sharpen and focus as he was listening to Sam. "We?" He asked.
"Sam and Pamela are going to focus on the psychotic psychics, kinda like fighting fire with fire, so me and Bobby will focus on Azazel now that we have a better idea of what can hurt him. It's a work in progress."
John nodded thoughtfully for a long while and Sam found himself waiting with baited breath for John's next words. "Well," he said finally, "looks like someone's gonna have to teach me how this whole fighting the supernatural thing works so I'm not completely useless come halloween."
That was probably the last thing Sam was expecting John to say, "You still want in?" He asked.
John's face lit up with amusement at the matching expressions on the brothers' faces before confirming his earlier assertion.
"Why?" Sam asked mystified.
"Because you're my son and it's my job to protect you. And after the last twenty years I have some serious making up to do."
Sam bit his lip, "you don't have to," he offered.
"I want to," assured John kindly.
Sam almost huffed a breath of relief, but managed to hold it in.
Bobby must have decided they'd had enough time to catch up because he appeared in the doorway with beers, followed by Pamela. The bottles were passed around and everyone made themselves comfy.
John saw that Sam's discomfort still lingered and suggested, "I might not know a lot about hunting but I was a marine and I was a pretty decent aim - and I'd like to help."
"Well, I think we can use all the help we can get on a hunt like this," Pamela said agreeably.
"How many other hunters are coming on this mission?" John questioned.
"We're expecting another six," answered Pamela.
"Just six?" Asked John sceptically.
Bobby grew stern and straightened in his seat, "We only want hunters we know for sure we can trust with us."
"But this mission sounds incredibly risky," protested John, "surely more hunters would give us all a better chance?"
Sam looked up from his fidgeting fingers to see Bobby and Pamela struggling to put their explanation into words, but they didn't need to, he knew what he was. He decided he would save them the trouble, "I told you I had demon blood in me," he began, "not many hunters trust even natural born psychics. Tracking the supernatural for years through the trail of bodies they leave behind makes it kinda hard not to see anything with even a whiff of the supernatural about it as a threat - and demons are the worst kind of evil out there."
John frowned, "Even though you clearly trying to kill this demon? That's a good thing, right?"
"A lot of hunters won't want to take the chance that I won't turn evil one day, I could slaughter hundreds and wreak widespread chaos of left alive."
"Do most hunters think this way?" John asked sadly.
"I've already had one hunter try to kill me four times before mom stopped him, permanently. Most monsters only kill for food, they're not truly evil, just trying to survive. But the only way to save lives is to kill the monster, it's hard to have compassion for the things you're hunting." Sam explained turning the room sombre.
Sam cursed himself for ruining the mood with his melancholic introspection. He wanted to turn the topic to something lighter and more palatable for a family reunion but he didn't know what else to talk about.
Before too long they were called to dinner by Dean, the ice breaker was a welcome shift in the dynamic of the evening and everyone gradually cheered as they ate. More beer was provided and after the food was cleared off the table the whisky was distributed generously.
Sam did his best to let go of his nagging doubts and simply enjoy the evening but there was a small knot of tension that simply would not be banished. It seemed to be suggesting that this was too good to last and he looked at each of the faces gathered around him and wondered if they would all survive halloween.
Shaking his head, Sam decided that even if he couldn't banish all of his doubts completely, he wasn't going to let it affect everyone else.
Two days later, pastor Jim turned up around mid-morning, his car was a relic from the seventies as it trundled up the driveway. As soon as Sam saw the old banger he put away the bullets he was carving and went out onto the porch to welcome his old friend.
"Sam," the priest greeted warmly as he got out of his car. He approached the younger man with outstretched arms and clasped Sam's shoulders, "It's good to see you after all this time - even if the circumstances are dire."
"Yeah, it's good to see you too," Sam agreed wholeheartedly, "I'm sorry it's been so long." He's wrapped his arms around Jim briefly and then took a step back, marvelling at the fact that he was looking down at the older hunter instead of up.
Jim sighed, "well that can't be helped now. I gather you have much to tell me? When I spoke to Pamela she was rather reticent about this hunt, all I know is that it involves a powerful demon, some psychics and that the whole world is at stake?" Jim trailed off questioningly.
Sam's hand went to the back of his head, "That pretty much sums it up. We're expecting a few more hunters to turn up today, do you mind if we wait 'til then to go over everything? It's kinda complicated and I think it would be easier to explain it just the once when everyone's here."
"Of course Sam. My curiosity can afford to wait until then, in the meantime, why don't you tell me what I've missed in the last few years? Certainly I've missed a growth spurt or two..."
Sam helped Jim carry his bags into the house while giving him a heavily abridged version of his life story since he was fourteen, and he introduced Jim to his dad and his brother who were sat in the library revising ways to harm Azazel and any other demons that might show up. They then went in search of Bobby so Sam could introduce the two of them next.
It was a similar story when Caleb turned up, except the roar of the approaching engine had everybody looking out the window expectantly. Sam had hunted with Caleb a couple of times when he was younger and Caleb had seemed like a big brother at the time, but now Sam really didn't know how the other hunter was going to react to hearing about his corruption. Pamela had said he was very open minded about the line between good and evil but Sam wasn't taking that as a guarantee that he wouldn't react badly to the phrase demon blood.
He was also a little nervous about Ellen and Jo, Ellen was very motherly and a bleeding heart for every unfortunate hunter's child that crossed her door - not that there were many - but she would also watch the world burn if it meant keeping her daughter safe. Jo was a firecracker and Sam was honestly drawing a blank when he thought about how she would react. He had seen them both more recently than either Jim or Caleb but it had still been over two years.
Sam should have known the first thing Ellen would do when she showed was give him a tongue lashing about not calling.
There were only two hunters left to turn up; Rufus, the only real worry Sam had about him was when he would turn up. And another hunter Sam had never met before. Bobby had told him that she had been close with his mom way back when - the name did set of the distant tinkling of bells in the back of his mind but he couldn't put a face to the name - and she could absolutely be relied upon. But no matter how much conviction Bobby had, Sam again, was nervous.
The house was getting fairly crowded by late afternoon, there was a general hubbub in most rooms as people swapped hunting stories, or in John's case, war stories. Sam was listening to John and Bobby argue over whisky - Sam had witnessed a multitude of different versions of the same argument, a couple of the more civilised iterations had involved pastor Jim, but an inordinate amount had involved Rufus and Bobby and usually devolved into name calling at some point. Sam was beginning to wonder if having absurdly strong opinions on whisky was a rite of passage for hunters of a certain age when Dean sidled up to him and whispered surreptitiously in his ear.
"So you and Jo... Anything there?"
Sam frowned and turned to Dean, "are you asking me if you can ask Jo out?"
"No, I'm asking if you like her because if anyone needs to get laid around here it's you and if there's a possibility of it happening tonight then I don't want to ruin your chances. Because I'm an awesome big brother."
Sam rolled his eyes, "there's no chance of me and Jo getting together any time soon, proceed at your own risk."
"Will do!" Dean whispered enthusiastically in his ear and patted him on the shoulder before making a beeline for the seat next to her.
Sam shook his head fondly and returned his attention to the debate in front of him, which was getting livelier and more obnoxious by the minute.
Jo wasn't subject to Dean's advances for long before a knock at the door announced the arrival of the next hunter. Dean must have gotten curious about the next visitor - or Jo had eviscerated his hopes rather promptly - as Sam heard him cry incredulously, "Missouri? What the hell are you doing here?"
Sam and John shared a quick glance before poking their heads through the door to see Dean getting a stern lesson in manners by a full-figured woman dressed in rich, bright colours that complemented her chocolate skin tone. She was a commanding presence in the hall as she scolded Dean while Bobby stood aside to witness.
"Missouri?" Asked John uncertainly as he left the safety of the library and approached the scene with a caution that looked remarkably similar to trepidation.
"John? You're here too? I wondered where you had gone off to." Missouri said as she noticed him and pulled him into a hearty embrace.
"What are you doing here?" he asked as he was released.
"Well now John, that's a bit of a long story and I believe there's another person here who really needs to hear it." Her eyes slid from John's face to Sam's and he stiffened at the realisation that she was psychic too, and that she was reading him. "Oh honey," she cooed as she brushed past John to stand infront of Sam, "I am so sorry for your losses."
Before Sam knew it, she had wrapped her arms around him too. As she let go she took a step back and cupped his face in her hands, "I haven't seen you since you were a new born! Who would have thought such a tiny baby would grow up so big and strong." Then as if suddenly remembering why she was there and that there were in fact other people staring at her after she had swept, previously unaffected, through the room, she let go of Sam's face and turned to face her audience, "Bobby, why don't you fix everyone a drink?"
Bobby looked like he was about to protest being ordered around in his own home but decided that was a battle for another day.
Once everyone had settled, she began to weave her tale, "I knew Mary for many years before you boys were born, before she met you, John. We hunted together a few times when we were young and became good friends. We both lived in the same town and after she gave up hunting we were as good as neighbours. Then one day she came to me in a panic, she told me about making a deal with a powerful demon and now she was sure it was after her baby. She had just found out she was pregnant again and she didn't know what the demon wanted, only that she had to protect her family. We talked it over for days before she decided the safest option for everyone would be to leave. She didn't want you to know about Sam in case she failed to protect him and you had to mourn a son and brother you hadn't met. She couldn't bear to watch that. So, as you know, she left. But she asked me to watch you boys while she was gone and when the deal came due she said that if she was wrong and the demon killed her, then I was to deliver Sam to his family. But when that demon came... "
She turned mournful eyes to Sam, "She was hysterical, she was sure she had condemned you to a life worse than death. I tried to console her, I told her she needed to be strong and that you were just a baby and that you would need her more than ever now. I'm sorry Sam, I only meant to calm her down but I fear I pushed her to raise you as a hunter. It's no life for a child, she knew that but with the threat of demons she saw no alternative and I know it ate at her. I only heard from her occasionally to check on the family she left behind. I had no idea she had even passed until recently."
Dean was the first to speak up. "So all those years, you were just spying on me for my deadbeat mom?" he asked with growing indignation.
"Child if you think I spent all that time feeding you and being there for you when I could more easily have just looked out the window, then you're dumber than you look." Missouri chided, then her expression softened, "I treated you like my own because I loved you like my own. It broke my heart to see you struggle so much without your mother around."
Dean seemed to shrink under her stern gaze, his earlier fire thoroughly quenched, and Missouri turned back to Sam, "Now why don't you tell me what's happened? I hear that demon is back and causing even more trouble?"
Sam smiled grimly but Bobby spoke up. "Why don't we call everyone in so they can all hear it at once? Rufus is the only one still missing but that curmudgeonly old bastard knows some of it already."
Sam nodded and waited while Bobby opened the door and shouted rather impressively at the whole house to get their sorry asses into the library. As the hunters were filing into the small space Bobby placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and and guided him gently to the desk.
"You ready for this?" He breathed in Sam's ear.
"I've spent my whole life trying to hide this secret," he muttered back, "the last person who found out tried to kill me four times - and he nearly succeeded the last time."
Pamela scoffed from behind him, "Gordon had issues. These are sane, reasonable people and they're here for you. You got this."
Sam briefly wondered when everyone else had come to the decision that he had to be to one to explain everything as he turned to face the most daunting part of this hunt. Even though a couple of the faces smiled encouragingly at him, if any of the others reacted badly - or sensibly, Sam thought - all camaraderie would be gone and he would be responsible for turning hunter against hunter.
He took a deep breath and felt his arm start to twitch at his side, as it always did when he was stressed and didn't know what to do with himself, and began relating to them the details of his particular brand of demon inflicted curse: his infection, his powers, the sick parade of death that seemed to follow in his wake and Azazel's plans to raise Lucifer. He had barely looked at his audience the entire way through his oration and couldn't bring himself to meet anyone's eyes as he waited for the fallout. There was a beat of heavy silence before Bobby subtly nudged him with his elbow, prompting Sam to stumble into an explanation of the plan they had all come up with.
"Any questions?" Challenged Bobby, stepping forward slightly, subtly moving into a protective position by Sam.
"Yeah, I got a question. I got a whole bunch of questions actually," said Caleb from the back of the room where he pushed away from the bookcase was leaning against, causing a host of tense eyes to turn on him, "and the first is: when's dinner? I'm starving. We can talk about the details later." Caleb grinned in the face of the disgruntled moaning that broke out around the room, "As if anyone here is dumb enough to have a problem with Sam after they've known him for five minutes."
Missouri rose from her seat, "well I guess someone needs to get cooking then. Dean, wanna give me a hand?"