Chapter 7- Magic Is for the Believers
Lisa lived on the outskirts of Lawrence, about ten minutes down the highway out of East Center in a suburb that was too close to Lawrence to be idyllic and too suburban to be true city living. Her house was small but well kept, with a chain-link fence gating it in and flower beds that would come to life once winter thawed properly. The living room light was on, which meant that despite the early morning shift she had, she was still awake.
And she'd only be awake if she was expecting us.
"She's been waiting this whole time. You planned this," Sam stated from the backseat, shoulders hunched to converse body warmth. It really had been freezing outside, and the Impala's heating system left much to be desired from his seating.
That was another thing. He was in the backseat. Sam had never been relegated to it before like this, and while it made sense (Dean and Cas had shared more intense eye contact throughout the ride, as well as soft conversation), he still couldn't help but feel grumpy about it.
My legs hurt.
"Yup."
Sam wasn't the only one to fix Dean a wounded look. Cas probably hadn't factored meeting his brother's ex tonight, and the younger Winchester was glad to see that he was more than capable of expressing complete betrayal.
"I don't need you two tag teaming me," Dean said, shaking his head, "You're acting like you're about to walk to death row for God's sake! It's just Lisa!"
"Did it ever occur to you that I've never met her before?" Cas asked, aura bristling a bit.
Dean's face became a perfect picture of confusion as he responded with the unwittingly inflammatory, "Why would it be a problem?"
"Oh boy," Sam muttered as Cas' aura practically exploded upon hearing that, "I'm just going to go…"
Neither of them paid Sam any mind as they began to argue, which was a blessed relief. The night air was blustery and ripped at Sam's blanket, but he made it through the gate and up the walkway in record time.
He had barely knocked before the front door was opened by a smiling Lisa, who quickly turned confused as she realized it was just him.
"Dean and Cas are being stupid, so you'll have to give them a minute," Sam explained through mild shivers, "Can I-?"
"Get in? Of course Sam," she said, quickly shaking off her confusion as she ushered him in, "You're so pale! Are you feeling ok?"
The foyer was small, as the narrow staircase up to the second floor was directly across from the front door. An open doorway to the living room was right to the left, and the doorway past it led to the kitchen, which was where Lisa was nudging him.
"Yeah, I'm alright," he replied. Lisa's soothing cobalt aura and the warm house was leagues better than the cramped Impala's backseat.
"It doesn't seem like it. I'm assuming you and Dean discussed the sleepwalking?" she asked as she finally got him into the kitchen.
Everything was cozy and clean, with the only thing out of the ordinary being the first aid kit sitting on the kitchen table. Sam arched an eyebrow at it questioningly, to which Lisa pulled out a thermometer and raised her own expectant eyebrow.
"Fine," Sam sighed (he'd been saying fine a lot tonight), sitting down and letting Lisa do what she wanted, "And we discussed things."
Some things we should really tell you.
Out of everyone in his life, Lisa should've been told a long time ago about how they'd grown up. He and Dean had even sort of agreed on it at one point (we'll tell her soon, later, once Ben gets older), but then she and Dean had split, and his brother had used it to cop-out.
Beyond that, Sam had always wanted to tell her about how he could see auras. How Winchesters were truly cursed, and how they'd always been a bit different from everyone else. He never had though, and Sam regretted it now because it had become imminent. Lisa couldn't just not know her son was having premonitions, and that in turn led down the winding path of explaining everything else.
Guilt hit Sam in his gut, twinging harder than his Winchester instinct ever did. Lisa deserved that knowledge, and he'd failed her by withholding it for too long.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled around the thermometer in his mouth.
Lisa gave him a strange look. Her cobalt aura showed her confusion and worry, and he wondered how sick he looked now.
"What for?" she asked as the thermometer beeped.
"For what I'm about to tell you," Sam responded quietly as she took the thermometer from his mouth. His stomach hurt with nerves because there was no possible way Lisa could handle all of what he was going to let go. Regardless, he had to tell her.
The front door opened, and Lisa glanced at the doorway before looking down at the thermometer and setting it on the table.
"Wait here," she said, tone unreadable as she went out to greet Dean.
Sam considered getting Dean in here as well because this involved him too, but almost immediately rejected the thought.
He won't be able to go through with it, or he'll mess it up. It has to be me.
A small part of his brain tried to tell him that this wasn't entirely his responsibility, but Sam shoved it away. There wasn't much time, and he couldn't spend it trying to cajole Dean into telling Lisa.
The little digital display on the thermometer read "99.9°", but he couldn't bring himself to care much about the fact he had a mild fever when Lisa returned alone.
"They'll stay in the living room," she said, pulling a chair up close to him and pressing a hand to his limp one splayed on the tabletop. Her aura felt comforting, taking a bit of the edge of his nerves. "Sam, what's going on?"
"I…I can't explain without explaining everything," he said, not daring to look at her directly. He hoped that she understood what he meant by everything because Sam didn't think he could follow through if he had to clarify.
There was a moment's silence before Lisa's hand tightened on his and a jolt of cobalt ran up his arm.
Sam turned sharply to look at Lisa and saw that there was nothing but a quiet acceptance and silent encouragement in her dark eyes.
"It's alright Sam," she said, sounding so gentle that he could scarcely believe it, "It's just me."
She's listening.
Sam inhaled shakily. The weight of his past and all the secrets he'd carried with him either silently or shared only with Dean constricted his chest for a single moment, screaming at him to stop, to forget about this and to just keep going on the way he'd gone on his whole life. He was about to break the cardinal Winchester rule that had always gone unspoken into a billion pieces.
Never tell anyone.
He clenched his free fist, fighting through all of his inhibitions until they let up just enough for him to say the first words.
"It all started when Mom died…"
…
It took Sam an hour and forty-two minutes to bare his soul to Lisa.
He wished he could say he'd spoken confidently, or at least some conviction. Truth was, the words were shaky and fearful, coming out splintered and half-formed from the compressed space in his chest he'd kept them all these years. Telling his story hurt, because to him it was an ugly thing of suffering and secrecy and sight he'd wished some days he'd never had. It was all he had though, and Sam didn't quit once he set his mind to something.
The first words were the hardest, but after that everything came forward in one giant mess. Everything seemed different spoken aloud, and it put a lot of things into perspective for Sam. Things like their nomadic motel lifestyle before Lawrence and relying on Dean as a surrogate parent seemed worse and retelling how John's grief had warped him became infinitely more pitiful.
Lisa, to her credit, held herself together spectacularly. She'd pressed her lips together at hearing of the true depths of his early childhood and flinched repeatedly when she'd heard of the training he'd undergone, but she never broke her silence. Her aura dipped and rose in mood, responding to his words, but Lisa remained steadier than Sam could've dreamed.
It was only until he told her of his ability to see auras and began to go down that tangent that she began to cry. Sam faltered at the sight of the tears, but she quickly brushed them away and grasped his shoulders.
"There's nothing to be ashamed about Sam," she said, tear-filled voice somehow filled with enough conviction that he couldn't help but at least want to believe her, "You're making it seem like it makes you a freak or something, but it doesn't."
Sam stared at her for a moment before blurting out, "Blue."
Lisa blinked in confusion, and he clarified with a vague gesture to the air around her. To him, his fingers brushed through billowy, dark blue wisps.
"Your aura is blue," he said quietly, letting his gaze go slightly unfocused as he gazed at Lisa's aura, "Cobalt to be exact."
"Is that…good?"
For the first time since he'd begun, Sam could smile and did so as best he could.
"The very best."
Talking about auras led to speaking of Dean's own odd super strength and of the sleepwalking, and Lisa quickly put two and two together as Sam spoke of the visions he'd been having. Her aura flared with motherly concern, but she remained seated until Sam wrapped up with what had happened earlier with his most recent vision, and of his discussion with Dean.
"Oh Sam," she said, suddenly sounding very tired and worn as she closed the distance between them with a hug, "I always had my suspicions, but hearing you say it…I can't believe you kept this to yourself all these years."
Sam hugged her back, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that Lisa wasn't screaming or yelling or telling him to get out of her house before he cursed her doorstep anymore with his presence.
"Well, I had Dean," he mumbled into her shoulder, enjoying the soft scent of her hair. Peaceful, accepting moments like this were rare for him.
She pulled away from him with a scowl so uncharacteristic that Sam did a double-take.
"I'll be having words with him!" she exclaimed, suddenly standing and going to the corner of the kitchen where she began to…do dishes? "I can't believe he copped out of this! When I said you wanted to tell me something that seemed important, you know what he said?"
Sam winced as Lisa began to clatter the dishes around very loudly, her cobalt aura bubbling with anger.
And there it is. I knew it'd be too good to be true for Lisa to not feel some sort of anger, but why at Dean and not me?
"'Just listen to Sammy'," she quoted with dramatic air quotes and a mock gruff voice, "That's it! Instead of telling me himself that his son is having glimpses of the future and oh, by the way, we all have some sort of superpower, he gets you to do it!"
She plunged her hands into the sink, scrubbing mercilessly at a poor, defenseless pot.
"His younger brother, who's running a fever and suffering from the same thing as my son, but on a catastrophically worse scale!"
Her aura was erratic with emotion now as she let the pot fall back into the sink with a splash and grabbed another piece of innocent silverware.
"I know he's not the most expressive man," she said with a wry chuckle, turning to gesture with the spatula she'd chosen as her next victim, "God Sam, we both know your brother is about as good at talking about feelings as this spatula, but he could've at least sat here! Offered moral support!"
"Lisa…" Sam started, only to trail off as he realized through viewing her aura that she wasn't really angry at Dean.
She's just angry at how our experiences led us to be the way we are.
Lisa sniffed, suddenly on the edge of tears again. Sam stood to wrap an arm around her shoulders as she tossed the spatula into the suds.
"It's just so unfair," she hissed, bracing her hands on the edge of the sink as Sam rubbed her back, "You two were put through so much hurt, and don't get me wrong, you're both great men, but…"
"We're pretty fucked up," Sam finished for her, smiling softly to let Lisa know that she hadn't offended him.
She managed a wan smile in return, wiping hurriedly at her eyes before returning his hug.
Sam sensed the aura a second before he heard the pitter-patter of small feet. It was dusky and sluggish with sleep, but as he turned to look at Ben in the doorway, it quickly came to life in a burst of color.
"Unca Sam?"
With his shock of dark hair sticking out in every imaginable direction and his rocket ship pajamas, Ben made for an adorable sight. His sleepy eyes made him seem much older though, quickly catching a spark of intelligence as he began to perk up.
"Momma, you didn't say Unca Sam was coming," he said, running up and reaching his arms upward. Sam obliged him, swinging him up and settling him on his hip.
"I didn't know until last minute sweetie. Your dad's here too," Lisa replied, running a hand through his hair.
Ben's aura turned a happy hue, but physically he only yawned and smiled, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. His childlike trust was reassuring because, amidst all the things changing and perched on the edge of no return in Sam's life, Ben's love remained constant.
"I know, but I heard you talking with someone," he mumbled, almost half asleep again, "I wanted to see if it was you, Unca Sam."
"I'm right here buddy," he said, smoothing his hand over Ben's hair as he exchanged a look with Lisa, "Why don't we get you to bed?"
Ben said nothing; too tired to get words out. Sam was already out of the kitchen though, stepping into the living room temporarily to check on Dean and Cas.
The pair were sitting on the couch, with Cas pressed up against one of the armrests to skim a book by the lamplight on a side table, and Dean just a few inches away from him. Their auras were pleasantly mingled; Dean's green soothing the wild blues that had betrayed Cas' anxious state earlier. His brother shifted away as soon as Sam stepped in, eyes already fixed on Ben.
"Is he alright? I thought I heard him sneak down the stairs," he remarked, standing to check on his son.
"Ben's perfectly fine. It's a lot easier now that I know what's going on," Lisa said from the doorway, arms crossed, and one eyebrow arched. Her last remark was tagged on almost casually, but the severity of her mood was clear in the way her dark eyes fixed on Dean.
To his credit, Dean looked properly ashamed as he shuffled his feet and mumbled some sort of excuse under his breath. It didn't cut it for Lisa, who jerked her head towards the kitchen in a 'time to talk' gesture.
Sam stifled a snort as she turned her attention to Cas, her attitudes switching completely as she smiled welcomingly at him.
"Are you sure you don't need anything Castiel? I know it must've been a long night for you; I have a cot I can set up in a flash if you want to sleep."
"Oh, so you give Cas the nice treatment," Dean grumbled, earning himself a dark glare and reproachful sniff from Lisa.
"Unlike you, he knows how to act when one drops by someone's house in the middle of the night," she remarked scathingly before flashing a winsome smile at Cas, "I have to borrow Dean for a few minutes, but I promise to return him in one piece. More or less."
Dean shivered as Lisa said 'more or less'. She was probably one of the few people that could intimidate him properly, and Sam smirked at him as she dragged him to the kitchen.
Serves you right for chickening out!
Cas remained on the couch, brow furrowing as he tilted his head.
"Is she always so…" he trailed off, trying to find the right word as he gestured vaguely with one hand, and Sam nodded.
"I told you; there's nothing to worry about with Lisa," he said, clapping his free hand on the man's shoulder.
"I suppose," Cas said slowly before shaking his head and switching topics, "Sam, there's…well, I noticed the notepad on your counter."
Sam froze, his grip unconsciously tightening on Ben. His nephew squirmed a bit, mumbling something into his shoulder.
In all the rush to get to Lisa's he'd almost forgotten about the Enochian, but now it had returned to the forefront. Even worse, Cas knew about it, and while Sam liked the guy, he didn't know him well enough to get into all the backstory behind why he would have a notepad filled with Enochian runes just lying on his kitchen counter.
Not to mention why Olsen's name is practically carved in at the top.
"I know about your sleepwalking," Cas started bluntly, shutting his book with a low thud, "That much was evident by the phone call conversation Dean had with Lisa, and what I've heard in bits throughout the evening. While I don't know much beyond that, what I do know is that the only business I can possibly concern myself here with is the Enochian."
Blue eyes gazed at him steadily, reflecting the endless sea of blue that surrounded Cas on a daily basis. There was still a bit of teal and green at the very edges where he'd mingled with Dean, but it was a true testament to Cas' sheer will and independent nature that the trace was quickly fading.
He's the ocean man, remember?
Sam found himself sitting down, moving Ben to rest him on his lap. Sure, he didn't know Cas well, but if Dean trusted him, then his gut instinct that Cas really wouldn't ask any more questions than necessary was true. And right now, that was good enough for him.
"What does it say?" he asked, focusing on Ben's sleep muted aura instead of the nervous anticipation coiling in his stomach.
Cas traced a finger over the book's cover, face inscrutable as his eyes fixed on some middle distance.
"They aren't words in the traditional sense; certainly not like the messages the killer is leaving behind. The runes are the kind that are typically seen in rituals."
"What kind of rituals?" Sam asked with a gulp. All he could think of was the twisted, perverted ones the killer seemed to be using.
"Not bad kinds," Cas said hurriedly, seeming to sense his growing unease, "In fact, they all seem to be ones used in protection rituals."
Sam relaxed, and the Enochian expert continued on.
"From what I can make out, the runes are all bits and pieces of a larger sigil. Not all the pieces are there though, so the specific protective kind is something I can't determine."
"Sigil?"
"A pictorial symbol. There are many in Enochian and they have different uses, but the use in this context is that of a symbolic representation of the outcome the creator wants. The more complicated a sigil, the more specific the result tends to turn out."
Sam thought of the pentacle on his chest for a brief moment. He didn't think it counted as a sigil, but it was in that realm, wasn't it?
"You use a lot of big words."
The two men looked down at Ben, who had woken again and was gazing at Cas with a look that was much less sleepy than expected.
"I have an expanded vocabulary," the Enochian expert responded, his aura reflecting his wariness towards Ben. Judging by the mild look of panic he shot Sam, he wasn't used to being around little kids at all.
"That's what my teacher says to me, but I don't think mine is as big as yours," Ben replied matter of factly before crawling off of Sam's lap to wedge himself in between the two of them. "Are you Daddy's new friend?"
This time, the look Cas gave him over Ben's head was practically screaming 'Help me!'.
Sam smiled and gestured for him to continue. His nephew was being downright bold with this conversation considering he'd never met Cas before, but then, he had seen Cas in his vision dreams, so maybe Ben felt he was a familiar figure.
"I am," Cas said slowly, as if admitting such a thing to Dean's son could somehow be forbidden, "He's in the kitchen with your mother, if you want to see him."
"That's alright," Ben said, tilting his head upward, "Whatcha reading?"
Sam snorted as Cas looked down at the book he'd been rubbing nervously.
"It's an old text about the various applications for rituals and the components they're made of," he answered honestly, clearly deciding that trying to sugarcoat it for a four-year-old was too taxing at this late hour.
Ben stretched his neck up to look at the cover, which was blank of any sort of title or adornment. There was a trace of gold lettering on the cracked spine, but it was so faded that Sam couldn't make any words out in the dim light.
"It does look old. Do you read a lot of old books?"
His aura was turning towards a pastel blue shade of curiosity, which amused Sam to no end. He knew Ben had never seen such a book before, and up until this point had probably considering his textbooks to be the most complicated literature out there.
"Yes. In my line of work, the old ones are the most useful," Cas explained, opening the book with a sudden burst of energy, "Let's see-ah, here it is."
He trailed a finger down the page he'd landed on before setting it on the coffee table and reaching for his bag. His aura had taken a different turn now, and Sam observed the change curiously. What was he up to?
"Bad dreams are something you can ease with an Enochian ritual or…magic," he said after casting a thoughtful look at Ben, "Have you ever seen someone cast magic before?"
Ben shook his head solemnly, eyes dark and wide now as he watched Cas withdraw a pen and paper.
"I've only ever seen it on TV. Are you a magician?"
Sam leaned back against the couch, content to let Cas take over. This was a side of Cas he'd never seen before, and he liked it. He was a little awkward, but endearingly so, and judging by his aura, he was enjoying his unexpected conversation with Ben. Sam always figured there was more to the man than just being the Enochian expert they called on occasion, but he hadn't expected anything like this.
I wonder if Dean's seen the side of Cas or something similar beyond the dusty ancient books. It'd explain why he likes to stare at him for sure.
"Not really. I'm more of a…protector of magic. I study it and preserve it for posterity," Cas said, bending over the coffee table.
Ben wiggled off the couch to kneel on the floor so he could see Cas work better, head bent to peer at the book. His aura was small against Cas', but no less intense in color.
"But you're doing magic now, so that makes you a magician!"
The two were so caught up in the 'magic' that Cas was creating that neither of them noticed Dean and Lisa appear in the doorway.
Sam frantically gestured for them to stay where they were (no way was he letting them interrupt now!). They froze in their tracks, confused before Ben spoke.
"Do you do magic for bad dreams all the time?"
Lisa's face softened, but Dean's became unreadable. His aura grew a bit unsettled, churning with paternal conflict and something else he couldn't decipher.
Sam felt like he was watching a tennis court with the way he was watching the pair at the coffee table and then the pair in the doorway. It was like being a fly on the wall, except he wasn't sure if what he was witnessing had any importance.
Maybe not to me, but to Dean it could be, he thought as he studied his brother, Maybe…maybe he needs to see something like this.
"Only for certain people. You have to believe in this type of magic for it to work, and not everyone believes," Cas replied as he drew the pen across the paper. His motions were sure and steady, speaking of his experience at the subject, "But I sense you're a believer."
"Well, yeah," his nephew said, propping his chin in his hand, "Daddy says he doesn't believe in magic, but you're his friend. That means you got him to believe in your magic, right? So, you must be a real magician!"
Cas paused in his work, happy shades of blue flickering to life in his aura. Sam struggled to keep a straight face as Lisa grinned wider than the Cheshire cat and elbowed Dean in the ribs. His brother barely reacted to her jab, as he was too busy gaping at the way Ben had portrayed him.
"Your faith in my magic is…appreciated," he said as he started up again, clearing his throat, "That is very hard to come by these days."
Ben gave him a sympathetic look and patted his arm. Lisa smirked up at Dean, who ducked his head in response. However, Sam thought he caught a flash of a smile before he did.
My matchmaking abilities must not be so rusty after all, because this feels like a success.
Cas finished with a flourish and presented the paper to Ben, who accepted it as if it were the most fragile item in the world.
"I hope my spell is satisfactory for you-oof!"
Sam smothered a laugh as his nephew hug tackled Cas before scrambling back onto the couch, waving the paper in his face.
"Unca Sam, look, isn't it amazing! The circle is perfect!"
"Maybe if you hold still I could see it!" Sam exclaimed, but he managed to make out what was on the paper regardless.
He had to admit; the circle was pretty damn symmetrical considering Cas had freehanded everything. There was a certain aesthetic to the curved lines and sharp angular contrasts, little runes written in each of the complicated sections the circle had been divided into.
"What do you say when someone gives you something Ben?" Lisa asked as she decided now would be a good time to interrupt. Dean trailed in after her with an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face.
"Thank you, Mr. Castiel," Ben recited dutifully before beaming. "Momma, look! It's a spell."
Sam scooted over to let Lisa take his place on the couch and turned his attention to Dean and Cas. He was tidying up with Dean's help, who had squatted down to grab Cas' bag. At first glance, it didn't look as if they were speaking, but Sam could swear he heard the faint murmurs of whispered words. Unfortunately, he didn't have Dean's bionic hearing, and so had to settle for observing the moment silently.
Whatever had been said, it made Cas smile bashfully and turned his aura into a bright blue blaze of happiness. Dean stood and cleared his throat loudly, wiping his face clean of the soft look he'd had with Cas and sticking on something more normal.
"Time for bed, Benji," he said sternly, "You're up way past your bedtime."
"S'not my fault!" Ben retorted, but he smacked a goodnight kiss on his mother's cheek before extending his arms upward to Sam.
Before tonight, Sam would've shot a panicked look at his brother and felt guilty at the preferential show of affection from his nephew, but now he simply shook his head and picked him up.
"If you think I'll show mercy because I'm supposed to be the fun uncle, you've got another thing coming kiddo. You're going straight to bed," he warned, settling Ben on his hip. It was a school night after all.
Ben grumbled but tucked his head sleepily into his shoulder.
Dean stepped to the side, ruffling Ben's hair as they passed. He didn't accompany them, which was strange, but judging by the look Lisa was giving him, there would be another potentially meaningful exchange of words had in the living room.
Tonight's just the night for that sort of thing, isn't it?
He wasn't sure what had come over him and Dean, but Sam couldn't bring himself to mind it. They'd made it out of the rough rapids tonight with Lisa, and everything seemed to be smooth sailing from here.
Ben's room was the door on the left at the end of the small hall and looked exactly as a child's room should. Toys of all sorts rested on shelves or on the ground next to his toy bin, and his kid-sized bed was dinosaur themed after a trip to a science museum he'd really enjoyed. The drawn curtains were blue to match the walls, but in the faint yellow glow of the nightlight plugged into the outlet by Ben's bed, the blue was much darker and greenish.
"Let's put this here," Sam suggested, taking the sigil Cas had drawn and propping it up on the nightstand, "How do you feel?"
"Better," Ben responded as he tugged the covers up to his chin and settled in, "You look sick Unca Sam. Are you alright?"
His aura swirled with mild concern, but periwinkle blue shades of sleep were rapidly taking over the dusky colors. Sam estimated he'd be fast asleep in under two minutes.
"I'm alright," Sam said, sitting down on the edge of Ben's bed to smooth his hair down, "It's just a cold."
Ben's dark eyes narrowed slightly, showing he didn't quite believe him. However, as children were wont to do, he abruptly changed the subject.
"I think Mr. Castiel is a good friend for Daddy. Daddy hasn't made a new friend in forever."
Sam nodded, accustomed to Ben's strange perceptiveness. Now that he had a semi explanation for it (Winchesters being Winchesters was good enough for now), he didn't have to waste time wondering how his nephew did it when he could just accept it.
"Everyone needs a good friend," he murmured, watching over he nephew dutifully as he drifted off.
Ben said something in response, but it came out as a mumbled mess Sam couldn't understand, and then he was fast asleep.
He thought he'd caught something that sounded like 'Mr. Gabe' in the slurred words, but whether or not that was his mind projecting things was another story. It didn't really matter either way, because Sam had no reason to deny it anymore.
Not denying it is one thing, but saying how I feel to Gabe is something completely different.
His phone buzzed quietly in his back pocket a few minutes later, startling him out of his doze. Sam stood, approving of the settled aura of calm sleep around Ben before stepping out and checking his phone.
Just as he'd thought, it was Gabe, and the text wasn't anything good.
Sherlock: U were right! Olsen is MIA and the LPD are looking for her. Where are u rn?
Sam bit his lip hard enough to break the skin before ducking into the bathroom next to Ben's room. He wasn't sure if anyone was waiting for him downstairs, so this was one of the only guaranteed ways to get privacy at the moment.
Finding solace in a tiny bathroom is just my new thing, Sam thought as he crouched on the edge of the tub and replied.
Sam: Lisa's place atm. Family stuff. Wasn't she being watched? How'd she go MIA?
Sherlock: He got her after an LU staff meeting of all things. Some emergency thing. Are u ok?
The soft buzz of the bathroom light made Sam's head pound. He wasn't sure what it was, but ever since he'd reluctantly entertained the possibility that he could be sick, he started feeling every bit of it. Sam resolved to tell himself that he wasn't sick so his brain could start feeding the placebo effect to his body, but right now, the light was killing him.
He flicked it off, leaving him with the light of his phone screen as he debated how to respond to Gabe.
There were two options: deflecting and bluffing that he was perfectly alright, which was standard Winchester protocol, or simply being honest. Sam usually went down the Winchester route, but that seemed wrong after everything that had happened tonight, and he was tired and worried. Olsen being gone and probably halfway through being Death's next victim was something he'd subconsciously anticipated ever since the vision in the kitchen, but that didn't mean he was prepared for it.
Sam chewed his already sore lip before groaning quietly and making his choice.
Sam: Talked with Dean, told him of my sleepwalking after I had another episode tonight. He dragged me to Lisa cause I look sick and I am. But it's just a cold! Focus on figuring out wtf happened to Olsen.
Gabe's response took a bit longer, and Sam jiggled his knee nervously as he waited.
Sherlock: I'll handle it. Don't leave Lisa's and get some rest for fuck's sake! I'll call u ASAP if I hear anything. I repeat: go to sleep!
Sam snorted at Gabe's insistence at sleep before tucking his phone away. He had no idea how Gabe was going to 'handle it', but if he had to take a guess, it'd involve a lot of pestering Jody and Donna and sneaking around the LPD in official places he wasn't technically supposed to be in.
An image of Gabe dramatically darting in and out of rooms in the LPD like he was in a spy film threatened to send Sam in a fit of sleepy giggles, but he managed to keep it in check as he went downstairs. If he returned laughing hysterically, Dean and Lisa would have him sequestered to a bed and pumped full of soup and medicine faster than he could say 'Gabriel Milton is a great sneaky P.I'.
He found the three of them in the kitchen, quietly chatting at the table. Or rather, Dean and Lisa were. Cas' aura reflected his perfect contentment with working at the end of the table with a laptop and a cup of coffee.
Sam stared at the laptop in disbelief. Compared to the ancient books he'd come to associate with Cas, it looked completely out of place, and his mind struggled to fit the slim, new bit of technology with the Enochian expert.
"Have you had that the whole time?" he blurted out.
Cas looked up at him, as did Dean and Lisa. He must've looked sicker than he wanted to, as Lisa instantly stood and steered him into a chair to fuss over him. Sam let her, too shocked by the sight before him to wave her off.
"Yes," Cas replied bluntly, but the twinkle in his eyes let on that he knew what Sam was thinking, "I am a student in the 21st century after all, and writing papers is faster this way."
"Right," Sam said for lack of anything better to say (where had he kept the thing? In his coat?), "It is pretty fast."
Dean stifled a laugh in his coffee mug, and Lisa tutted as she bustled about the kitchen.
"Don't laugh at your brother when he's clearly ill, Winchester!" she chastised, returning with a glass of water and some pills.
"Yes ma'am," Dean replied quickly, but Sam saw the cheeky wink he shot over to Cas.
The reaction that drew from Cas' aura was enough to make him quickly avert his eyes and busy himself with drinking the medicine before he thought too hard on that aspect of what came with having a crush on someone. He'd seen plenty of such things in people's auras before, but he didn't want to see it in connection with his brother in the aura of someone that he considered a friend. There was a big difference between seeing attraction in the aura of a random waitress that flirted with Dean and seeing it in Cas's.
"This is going to make me sound stupid," Sam began with the lowered inhibition of someone who'd be asleep within the hour, "But…what do you study exactly Cas? It's funny, because I've always just considered you the magical Enochian expert in my head, but you can't possibly major in that, right?"
Lisa smacked Dean's shoulder as he began to chuckle, but Cas didn't seem at all offended by Sam's clumsy approach to the subject.
"I'm majoring in History, with a minor in Ancient Languages," he explained, blue eyes crinkled as he smiled the biggest smile Sam had seen from him yet. It left no doubt in anyone's mind that Cas loved what he was learning. "I transferred to LU this semester to participate in an excellent ancient language program the history department is hosting, but also to wrap up my bachelor's before beginning grad school in the fall."
Even sleepy, Sam could do the mental math, and proclaimed, "You're 22?"
"Going on 23," Cas confirmed, "And a student just like you. Did I give the impression I was older?"
Dean couldn't restrain a guffaw at the innocently posed question, and Sam made a diplomatic, noncommittal noise as he fiddled with his water glass.
"I mean, you dress so nicely, and I guess I never gave it much thought…"
He trailed off as he remembered something from the very beginning of the investigation, when he'd just been getting to know Gabe and dipped his metaphorical toes into the cold, dark waters of crime.
"Hannah mentioned you'd transferred that day we first met. You're siblings."
"Yes, but not in flesh. I'm the adopted one of the family," Cas explained, expression sobering, "We've been told we look related regardless."
Dark hair, blue eyes, and a tendency to tilt their heads when they didn't understand something? Sam could see it, and if Cas hadn't mentioned he was adopted, he wouldn't have come to that conclusion for a good long while. Auras could be completely different between siblings, but there was always a link beneath the surface that could be made between them, no matter how different in size, shape, and color their auras were.
Sam's brow furrowed as he thought of Cas and Hannah's respective auras. He hadn't noticed the missing link that would've declared them blood siblings, but the link was an instinctive thing he had to really pay attention to in order to find it, and if the siblings had a good bond regardless of their lack of shared genes, it was even harder to scout it out.
"No thinking," Lisa said as she pressed a warm mug into his hands, "You'll give yourself a headache with the way you're looking right now."
"I always think," Sam replied distractedly. The sweet scent of cocoa seemed off to him somehow, and as he took a sip, he realized why.
It didn't taste like the cup of cocoa Gabe had made him when he'd called him after the awful bathtub vision. Not to say that it wasn't bad (because Lisa made a damn good cup of anything), but it just wasn't the same.
The sudden, childish desire to have a cup of Gabe's cocoa and not Lisa's was strong enough to make Sam mentally calculate how far he had to walk to the nearest subway stop (about a mile and some spare change). He stopped himself before he began to plot how he'd break out of Lisa's house, because this was ridiculous, and he certainly hadn't succumbed to a sudden longing for Gabe's company at the smell of cocoa.
Would he make cocoa for me if I asked?
Sam hid his face in the mug as he took a long sip and told himself he was doing so because he wanted to savor Lisa's cocoa. It certainly wasn't because he missed Gabe so much he knew it showed on his face.
When he reemerged for air, he only felt marginally better. It didn't matter though, because Dean and Lisa had disappeared, and Cas' fingers were flying over the keyboard in a manner reminiscent of Sam's own late-night studies.
"They went to work out sleeping arrangements," the Enochian expert said without tearing his eyes away from the screen, "I've told them I didn't need anything as I've decided to remain awake for the remainder of the night, but they are proving to be insistent."
Sam hummed, holding onto the mug for warmth. His hands were colder than usual.
"Lisa's just like that, and Dean likes you, so you can expect at least the spare cot."
The keyboard tapping stopped, and the Winchester looked up from the cocoa (which still didn't feel right) to see Cas staring at him.
"Dean likes me?"
Sam frowned before realizing he'd at least semi put his foot in his mouth with his loose tongue. He clamped down on it mentally, chiding himself for speaking too freely before he had all the facts.
"He doesn't like very many people, He still hasn't said anything to me, but it's obvious he likes you," he explained, feeling a pang as Cas' hopeful shades of robin egg's blue dimmed at the lack of romantic confirmation, "I think…I think he doesn't know himself how he feels yet. Dean's bad at feelings, you know."
Cas nodded sagely, taking a sip of coffee. Sam felt heartened to see the man's aura already bouncing back.
"I understand. But, in your opinion, do you think something's there?"
Sam thought of their auras, green and blue mixing effortlessly whenever they were brought together and remaining mingled wherever they were left behind. Cas didn't know it, but he'd asked the right person for the certainty he was seeking.
"Yes. Don't give up," he said simply just as Dean and Lisa walked in.
"Give up what? What'd we miss?" his brother asked.
"Nothing," Cas said, hitting a key combo Sam would bet a million dollars was Ctrl+S before closing his laptop screen, "I do hope you haven't set up a cot for me."
"We set up the cot for you," Lisa said, confirming what seemed to be Cas' worst fear judging by the way he clutched his coffee close and exhaled sharply through his nose. "Sam gets the guest room since he's sicker than a dog."
"Sam is sitting right here, and not sicker than a dog," he complained. He hated when Lisa got all 'I'm-a-nurse-and-I-know-what-I'm-doing' on him because it meant a lot of unnecessary care and medical queries in his future.
"You should look in a mirror," Dean chimed in before grasping his shoulder, "Come on Sammy. Let's get you to bed."
Sam griped and groaned, but still retained enough of his sense to say goodnight to Cas, who threw him a look of barely restrained dread as he was left to try and fend off Lisa and her own attempts to get him to bed.
He wasn't sure how, but Dean managed to get him up the stairs and to the bathroom, where Sam brushed his teeth on autopilot. His limbs were suddenly heavy with sleep, and he could barely make out his pale reflection in the mirror. Dean stood like a silent sentinel behind him and assisted him to the guest bed, which Sam practically sank into.
"S'nice," he said, pressing his face into the pillow. It didn't matter that his feet hung over the edge, or that one roll over would result in him landing on the floor; to him at that moment, it was the best bed in the world.
"It is," Dean agreed, "Come on, roll over so I can get your jeans off. You'll hate yourself in the morning if you leave them on."
Sam groaned and mumbled a string of curses, but obliged, even managing to undo his belt buckle before his hand flopped to the side. He wasn't sure where this sudden tiredness had come from, but if this was a new side effect of visions, he didn't want to see the future anymore.
Stupid visions.
"Tired," he mumbled, already half asleep as Dean tugged his pants off.
"I know," his brother replied, drawing the covers up, "Go to sleep Sammy."
"Wait. Phone."
A part of Sam was reminding him that his phone was important and stubbornly held out against the black wave of soothing unconsciousness until he had it.
There was a voice, and then the press of an object to his hand. Sam's mind, now satisfied that he had what he wanted, finally gave up the fight against sleep.
…
Before Sam had met Gabe, he only ever had one personalized ringtone on his phone, and even that one was an on and off thing. Dean would crack his password and change his ringtone to some headbanging rock classic, and Sam would change it back to a regular ringtone when he got the chance. At the moment, he was on the winning side of the ringtone war with his brother, but recently, he'd added a new ringtone for a certain person.
He knew it was corny (not to mention embarrassing if someone figured it out), but Sam hadn't been able to resist. It somehow seemed right, and as the first lyrics filtered through his brain, he couldn't bring himself to regret his choice.
His phone was wedged between him and the mattress somewhere, the muted lyrics to 'Heat of the Moment' waking him. For a moment, the room was dark and unfamiliar until Sam remembered where he was, and why Gabe would be calling at this hour.
Whatever this hour could be.
Sam sensed it was early, but he didn't bother to check the specific time as he fumbled around drowsily for his phone. The screen blinded him momentarily, but he managed to answer the call and press it to his ear.
"Mornin' Gabe."
"Hey Sammo," Gabe responded, sounding very tired but also slightly amused. His voice must've sounded pathetically sleepy. "Sorry to wake you."
"S'fine," Sam said, rolling over to squint at the digital clock on the tiny nightstand. 6:40 wasn't too bad for him, "What did you find out? Is Olsen…"
He trailed off to yawn, and Gabe huffed out a laugh before sighing.
"I have no idea. I've been chasing my tail all night. Jody and Donna didn't know anything more than I did, but I think they got called out about fifteen minutes ago to-somewhere. I don't know because nothing's been called over the police scanner, unless I missed it, which means they're trying to keep whatever it is under wraps and…I know something's happened, but I can't be sure it's Olsen."
"You have a police scanner?" Sam asked, his mind latching onto that bit of information out of everything he'd been told.
Gabe paused before beginning to laugh. It wasn't his usual laugh; he sounded too sleep-deprived and high strung, but it still made Sam's heart lurch dangerously in his chest.
"You need to wake up properly, and I need to go to sleep," the P.I remarked.
"Maybe," Sam said, too enraptured by the smile he could hear in Gabe's voice to end the call just yet (and didn't that make him the corniest idiot alive?), "I'm glad you tried though."
Something thudded downstairs, accompanied by a faint 'sonuvabitch!' that had Sam rolling his eyes at the shut door.
Good to know Dean's now woken everyone else up if they weren't already awake.
"Trying isn't good enough if I don't get results, but I appreciate the sentiment regardless."
In the kitchen, something clattered to the ground, leading Sam to wonder what could've possibly gotten into Dean to make him so clumsy right now.
"I got to go Sammy, but if I get any sort of update I'll call," Gabe said, sounding hurried, "Bye."
"Bye," Sam replied distractedly as what sounded like Ben's door opened down the hall.
He stood, swaying only a little bit as he tugged on his jeans and approached the door. He actually felt pretty good considering how crappy he'd felt just a few hours before, and decided it'd just been a fluke cold that had brought him down as he stuck his head out.
Ben was doing the same thing from his door, and their eyes met for a second before his nephew smiled and scampered out of his room to hug his legs.
"You stayed! Does this mean I don't have to go to school?"
"That's up to your mother," he automatically said as he shepherded Ben down the stairs. In his opinion, it wouldn't hurt anybody if Ben missed a day of preschool when he was lightyears ahead of the other kids anyway, but he wasn't going to make a promise he couldn't keep.
Downstairs, the TV was on in the living room to what looked like the weather forecast (cloudy skies, high chance of rain in the afternoon), and Cas was sitting up sleepily on the cot. Sam's eyebrows rose at the, quite frankly, indecent case of bed head he was sporting. If he hadn't known better, he would've said Cas had gotten lucky.
"Morning Mr. Castiel! I didn't know you slept over too. Is it like a new holiday or something Unca Sam?" he asked as he flopped down onto the couch and beamed at them both.
Cas groaned before flopping back down onto the cot, making it creak dangerously.
"How about we keep it down for Cas?" Sam suggested as he warily eyed the increasingly dark turn the man's aura was taking. He knew Cas didn't function well without his coffee, and he didn't want to find out how well he'd take to a semi energetic four-year-old this early in the morning.
"Lisa, I can make waffles- what do you mean Ben's going to school today? After the night he had? Just say he's sick or something!"
"I have work Dean, and I can't cop out today to watch Ben. Turn off that waffle maker before they smell it!"
So that's what all the hullabaloo was about in the kitchen. Sam thought it was too late to abandon the idea of waffles (the smell was beginning to seep out of the kitchen), but kept his mouth shut on that particular topic as he stuck his head in to check on the pair. He wasn't going to ask for waffles if they were in a bad mood.
Dean and Lisa were fussing about around the appliances, nattering at each other in a way Sam was used to seeing. Neither of them seemed to be in a notably foul mood, but Lisa was hustling. She was already in her nurse scrubs and had her bag on the table ready to go.
"I can watch him," Dean offered, surreptitiously attempting to plug the waffle maker back in as Lisa turned her back to open the fridge, "I'm not working today, so he can hang out with Cas and me! Guys day out on the town; it'll be great."
Sam was surprised to see that Dean seemed genuinely eager for such an outing. It didn't show on his face, but his aura gave him away with its bright, happy shades of green.
"While that sounds very lovely," Lisa replied distractedly, "I think Cas and Ben both appreciate their education very much and should go to school. What did I tell you about that waffle maker?"
Dean dropped the cord faster than a whip, and Sam decided to come to the rescue before she really began to get irritated at his idiot brother.
"Is that waffles I smell? What's all this fuss about Ben?" he asked, playing the innocent, sleepy Winchester as he padded in.
Lisa groaned in defeat as Dean grinned triumphantly.
"We're back in business baby!" he exclaimed, plugging the waffle maker back in.
"Your brother thinks it'd be a good idea for Ben to take a day off. What do you think Sam?" Lisa asked worriedly, ignoring Dean's protests of disbelief (What happened to listening to the father for an opinion?)
Sam knew she expected him to hammer the final nail in the coffin, as he was the only one besides her that was more vocal and adamant that Ben should have every chance to claw his way up to a better life through education.
"It wouldn't kill him," Sam reassured, resting his hands on her shoulders so she'd stop giving him that kicked dog look of betrayal, "It's preschool, and Ben's doing just fine. Let him have a day."
Lisa chewed on her lip before giving in with an audible sigh, throwing her hands up in defeat.
"Fine, but don't take him anywhere dangerous, or keep him out too long in this weather!" she said, pointing a stern finger at Dean.
His brother nodded obediently, knowing he had to stay on Lisa's good side for a few more minutes if he wanted her decision to stick. Sam rolled his eyes before dragging his brother away from the waffle maker and towards the living room.
"Come on, let's give Lisa time to adjust. Besides, Cas is awake, and he doesn't seem happy," he said as they entered.
Cas' aura was stormy, brow furrowed deeply as he sat hunched on the edge of the cot with a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Ben had changed the channel to some cartoons but had lowered the volume in an obvious attempt to soothe the disgruntled man in the corner of the room. His aura seemed more concerned than wary of Cas' bad mood, which said a lot about his developing character.
Dean sighed before crossing the room and resting a hand on Cas' shoulder. Judging by his complete lack of surprise at the sight, he was used to Cas' early morning glowers.
"I don't think Mr. Castiel likes mornings," Ben whispered as Sam plopped down next to him on the couch.
"He doesn't," he whispered back as Dean tried to coax Cas off of the cot and towards the kitchen for breakfast, with what looked like little success, "He needs some grown-up juice to get going."
Ben nodded in understanding, which is when Dean's patience seemed to wear thin.
"Alright Cas," he said, shrugging off his leather jacket, "So you've decided to play this the hard way, huh? Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
Cas glared up at him balefully in response from within his makeshift cocoon. Sam couldn't help but approve of the fiery expression (anyone that had the nerve to look at Dean like that was a person worth knowing indeed), but it did little to dissuade his brother as he dove in for the kill.
Ben giggled in surprised glee as Dean threw Cas over his shoulder. He yelped and began to flail about, but between Dean's typically iron grip and his now trap of a blanket, Cas couldn't move much. That didn't stop him from trying to knee Dean in the chest.
"Should I pick up another passenger for the Winchester train?" Dean asked, grinning as he turned bright green eyes towards his son.
He's really happy, Sam suddenly realized as Ben tried to get away by clambering over his lap, What's got him in such a good mood?
"Dean. Put. Me. Down!" Cas exclaimed as his brother managed to snag the shirt of Ben's pajamas and haul him backward.
"Noooooo!" Ben cried dramatically, but he shrieked in delight as Dean tossed him up and caught him effortlessly in one arm.
"Benjamin Braeden, Castiel Novak, I regret to inform you both that you've been served a Winchester train ticket to the kitchen, where the torturous activity of waffle eating awaits!"
It hit Sam in a rush as Lisa appeared asking what on earth was going on, but with an indulgent smile on her face.
Dean's surrounded by his favorite people right now, he thought as Dean's aura flared outward in a supernova arc of happiness that infected everyone else in the vicinity, That's why he's so happy.
Not much could make his brother happy, but what could ended up being very simple things. And when Dean was happy, it spread to everyone else, because his happiness was something almost tangible to others in its strength. Sam couldn't help but smile as a significantly less grumpy Cas and an ecstatic Ben exited the room on Dean's shoulders.
Of course, good things always came to an end, and for Winchesters, good moments were significantly shorter.
'Heat of the Moment' began to play, and Sam answered it in the hopes that maybe Gabe had some good news. Dean's aura had left him feeling a bit giddy, and he already had half-formed plans to stop by Gabe's apartment made in his head. Maybe after Gabe told him the good news, he'd ask.
"The news. Shit Sam, turn on the news."
Sam immediately sobered up, for the remote at the tone of Gabe's voice. He didn't think he'd ever heard Gabe sound so grim and tired before, and a query of concern was already poised on his tongue before he finally managed to pull up the right channel.
His stomach sank as he saw the blazing headline, and the grave-looking news anchor already halfway through delivering the breaking news.
"-The Crucifier seems to have struck again on Lawrence University's campus, with our initial reports telling us that the Watercrest Memorial library has once again found itself to be the scene of the crime. This makes the second victim to be found in the library, and The Crucifier's fifth known victim…"
"I don't know how they know, but the LPD has descended into chaos," Gabe rambled, the sound of horns honking audible in the background. Wherever he was in the city, he was driving. "There's talk of the FBI coming in, and nobody knows how he managed to get Olsen when she was being so closely watched. This means that there's a leak in the department, which isn't good Sam-"
"Breathe," Sam interrupted, standing as the TV screen switched to an image of the WM library from a distance, "Where are you, and where are we meeting?"
"…Lawrence University has decided to postpone all classes for the rest of the week in light of the horrific events…"
"Your place," Gabe said automatically, "But Sam, I thought you were-"
"Nope, I'm not letting you do this alone," he replied firmly. Sam didn't doubt that Gabe would pursue this with or without him, and someone needed to keep an eye on the P.I to make sure he didn't fall asleep on his feet, "I'll be there as soon as possible."
He hung up before Gabe could get a word in edgewise, already looking around for his shoes so he could dash over to East Center.
"Looking for these?"
Sam whirled around to see Lisa standing in the doorway with his shoes. Her expression was unreadable as he cautiously took them from her.
"Go," she said simply, dark eyes calm, "I'll keep the boys busy with waffles."
It seemed too good to be true, but Lisa's cobalt aura revealed her complete seriousness. He found himself looking at it distrustfully while he tugged his shoes on because surely she wasn't implying what he thought she was?
"Don't look at me like that Sam. You know I'm telling the truth," Lisa remarked, and Sam jolted with a brief moment of panic before he remembered that he'd told her everything last night.
That's going to take some getting used to.
Hesitation held him regardless, but for different reasons now. Dean would want to get involved if he found out what he was doing, at the very least insisting he give him a ride over. Sam didn't want him doing that though, as that meant Ben would have to come, and he knew he could speak for everyone when he said he didn't want Ben anywhere near any aspect of the case right now.
Dean shouldn't be either. He deserves at least one easy day.
Laughter from the kitchen sealed Sam's decision. He didn't want to break the mood, and Lisa seemed alright with letting him sneak off to meet Gabe, so why look a gift horse in the mouth?
"I owe you one, Lisa," he promised, tugging on his jacket.
She tugged him into a quick hug, rubbing his back comfortingly.
"I'm still trying to understand everything you told me, but I'm doing my best, and I know that this is something you feel like you have to do. Just…stay safe doing so, and catch the bastard doing this."
Sam didn't have any words to say how grateful he was to her for, well, everything. He hoped the kiss he left on her forehead spoke for itself. Then he was gone, slipping out the front door before anyone else could notice he'd left.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This chapter was actually supposed to be part of the last one, but I'm glad I decided to split them up early on because this one got super long. I regret none of the fluff in here because everything gets more serious after this.
I was going to edit and post this yesterday, but I had to go to my college orientation and that was more exhausting than I thought it'd be. Therefore, I've returned to start the month off with this and hopefully post once more after this before college sucks me back into the world of schoolwork.