Title: Old Ghosts 4/6
Author: Gillian Middleton
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R -NC 17
Total word count: 7225
Warning: Wincest.
Authors notes: AU story where Sam and Dean were adopted by different people and meet as adults.
Old Ghosts
Part Four
By Gillian
Sam looked up from his laptop, considering the next words for his paper and idly studying the patterns of sunlight thrown on the table through the lacy curtains at the kitchen window. It was quiet here, on a weekday. No one was cutting the grass, no children were running up and down the street outside. There was just the sound of a radio from the garage where Nick was getting his fishing gear in order for a trip out with Gary.
It was Nick who'd suggested Sam could study here when he needed some peace and quiet. Sam had been unsure at first, not wanting to intrude and feeling a little uncomfortable at the the idea of being in Dean's house without him there. But Nick was a hard guy to be uncomfortable around, he just had a knack for making people feel at ease. So when Sam complained about his party-hard room-mate and Nick made his offer, it was a difficult one to turn down.
Sam was glad he hadn't. It was nice, being in a home again. His first year of college he'd been so focused on getting used to campus life and keeping his grades up he hadn't really had time to be lonely. But now, coming back for his second year after spending the summer at home, it was setting in. Sam came from a happy home, and he missed that family atmosphere.
Not that Nick and Dean were any kind of regular family. And they certainly didn't live the way Sam imagined two men living together. For one thing the place was spotless. And when they cooked it was elaborate dishes that Sam had never tasted before. Nick whipped up a mean moussaka.
Sam looked around the bright, sunny kitchen. A potted fern trailed delicate leaves from a pot on the cupboard. The bench was covered in gleaming blue and white tiles. A white hand stitched apron still hung on a hook behind the back door. Nick's wife, Renie, had been dead for more than a year, but the house looked as if she had left it yesterday.
Sam knew he'd been lucky in his life, he still had his parents and both sets of grandparents. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Nick, losing his wife. Or for Dean, losing the closest thing he had to a mother.
Thinking of Dean had Sam resting his chin on his hand and smiling reminiscently. If anyone had told him back in September when he decided to look for part time work that by Halloween he'd be so deeply involved with someone, he wouldn't have believed them. And yet here he was. Working with Dean. Falling into bed with him every chance he got. Loving him.
It was a little sobering now, remembering the first time he'd told Dean he loved him. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that, when they were both still so raw and hurting. He'd wanted it to be an occasion they could look back on and smile about.
And yet now, remembering it, Sam didn't think there could have been a better time. Dean had needed to hear it and Sam, god knows, had needed to say it.
Rubbing tiredly at the crease between his eyes, Sam felt the familiar twist in his chest at the thought of Dean's distress that day. That painful revelation, that terrible confirmation of Sam's fears. That first night, on the narrow cot at the back of the shop, Sam had wondered, just for a moment. When Dean pushed at his shoulders, eyes wide, panicked, it had crossed his mind.
That someone had hurt Dean.
But it had been just a passing thought, drowned beneath the flood of passion between them, on that night and the ones that followed. He had always been careful after that never to hold Dean down again and everything had been fine. Sam had forgotten that brief moment of nagging worry.
Then Sam had pushed too hard, too fast and it had all come crashing down around them both. For a little while Sam had been wild with fear for Dean, and for their budding relationship. By the time Dean had made his broken little confession, Sam's quick mind had already raced ahead, filled in the blanks, rendered it unnecessary. But Dean had needed to say it, to have it drawn from him like poison from a wound, and so Sam had listened, and soothed him, and tried to be strong.
And then, when Dean had finally curled up in the bed and fallen asleep, then Sam had let it all sink in. Dean's pain and suffering. His loneliness and loss of innocence. And how broken he had been, in Sam's arms, pouring out the horrors of his past as if he had been at fault. As if he had done something to be ashamed of.
Sam had crept into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet seat with his head in his hands. He'd been scared, he remembered now. Scared that he was going to screw this up. Scared because Dean would need him when he woke up and he didn't know what to do, what to say to him. He was scared that he might say the wrong thing, touch him the wrong way. Hurt him even more.
In the end it had been so much easier than he would have believed. Seeing Dean standing there in the doorway of the kitchen, looking achingly young and vulnerable in his track pants and tube socks, Sam had known just what to do and say.
Nothing had changed after all. Dean was still the man Sam had fallen in love with. It had been easy to just acknowledge that pain, and the privilege of Dean having trusted him enough to share it with him. And then just get on with the business of loving Dean, and looking after him, and letting Dean look after him, when he needed to.
Sam straightened up with a sigh, pressing his hand to the small of his back.
"You're too young to be making a noise like that," Nick commented as he walked by.
Sam chuckled, twisting his neck to straighten out the kinks caused by too long hunched over his laptop. "Are you sure I'm not in the way, Nick, working here during the daytime?"
Nick rummaged around in a drawer, pulling out a small pair of pliers and peering down his nose through his glasses at the tool. "Course not," he said absently. "I'm glad of the company." He flicked Sam a glance. "Don't you need the library or something?"
Sam gestured at his laptop. "Library and text books rolled into one."
"Ah, modern technology. Hey, Sam, can you thread this for me?" He handed over the pliers and a brass sinker and Sam easily pushed the fine filament through the small hole. "Nice to have young eyes around. You about ready for a break?"
Sam nodded and closed his laptop with a click. "Yeah, I could eat. And I am actually going to need to get to the library later, pick up a few things."
"How's the Camaro running?" Nick asked as they assembled sandwiches.
"Great," Sam enthused. "We're switching out all the old metal fuel lines for plastic, should be back on the road tomorrow. I'll just get the bus tonight." Sam finished his sandwich and eyed the bread packet.
Nick grinned and pushed it over. "Eat, you're a growing boy."
"I feel like I'm eating you out of house and home here," Sam said guiltily. "Is there something I can do for you?" He glanced out the back door. "I could cut the grass? Maybe trim the driveway?"
"Actually it looks like we'll have the lawn covered. Gary phoned this morning. His grandson is coming back to live with him."
"Ronnie? I thought he was living with his mom?"
Nick grimaced. "Don't get me started on Shona. She always was a wild one." Nick watched as Sam devoured another sandwich. "Tell you what though, if you do want to help."
Sam chewed and nodded.
"I want to set up another couple of rods and maybe some more lures. I could use those young eyes of yours."
"My eyes are at your service."
-666-
Dean pulled up in front of the library in his old truck with a shudder and a jerk. Sam was right, he needed to find a better ride than this. It was embarrassing for someone whose business was putting fine automobiles back on the road to be seen driving this rattle trap. He was a long way from getting his Impala running, but truthfully he was in no particular hurry. He was enjoying the long slow process of restoring the American classic.
Of course, Dean mused with a reminiscent smile, he was pretty far behind on his schedule these days. For some reason he and Sam never seemed to spend more than an hour working on the Chevy before they found something more interesting to do. Not that he was complaining.
Over the last few weeks things with Sam had gone better and better and Dean's fears that the younger man would pull away from him after that awful afternoon had proved entirely groundless. In fact, if anything their love making was better than it had been before. Dean half closed his eyes in remembered pleasure. None of the sexual encounters in his life, willing or unwilling, could have prepared him for being in Sam's arms.
And Sam's generous heart.
He glanced at his watch, noting that he was a few minutes early. Around him the late October evening was setting in and Halloween decorations graced the notice boards and windows. A fat Jack O'Lantern sat at the top of the steps to the library. A group emerged through the wide doors and Dean smiled as he recognized Sam in the crowd. He would have been hard to miss, he was taller than all the others and towered over a couple of them. They walked as a group, laughing and looking comfortable together.
Dean suppressed a twinge of something that felt a little like envy. For a moment he wondered what it would like, to be one of those kids chatting and laughing. To have the kind of relationship with Sam where they could meet as equals. Of course he was the one Sam was going home with, not one of these college boys, and certainly not any of those brainy girls in their tight jeans and cut off tops. Dean was idly admiring a gorgeous blonde with a waist he could easily wrap his hands around, when she suddenly squealed and flung her arms around Sam.
Dean straightened in his seat, outrage flooding him. What the hell did that skinny bimbo think she was doing? And why was Sam standing there, and... Dean narrowed his eyes as Sam's big hand patted her back.
Okay, that was it. Dean unbuckled his belt, ready to get out and stake his territory. At that moment Sam looked up and saw him, and lifted a hand in greeting, face lighting up in a grin. Dean set his jaw and slowly buckled himself back in as Sam detached from the limpet blonde and hurried down the path, calling good-bye over his shoulder to his friends.
"Hi, am I late?" he said, leaning in the window. "Want to come and meet my friends?"
"I'll pass, thanks. You coming?"
Sam pulled open the creaky door and climbed into the cab and Dean tore his eyes away from Sam's crowd of friends, most of whom still stood on the path, chatting easily with one another. Mostly he'd been looking at the blonde who hadn't taken her eyes off Sam since she'd been forced to take her hands off him.
"Dean?"
I can drive 'round the block a few times if you like," Dean offered acerbically. "Give you time to say good-bye?"
Sam half smiled, half frowned. "I said good-bye."
"You sure?" Dean nodded to the group and the blonde who was still casting them curious glances. "Your little blonde friend there looks like she misses you already."
Sam followed his gaze to the girl and Dean gritted his teeth as the bony bitch had the temerity to wave at him. "You mean Rebecca?"
"Yeah, Rebecca," Dean sneered. "She's cute," he continued airily. "Not exactly my type." Which was a lie, he'd have jumped her bones in a minute a month or so ago. Of course now he could see what a mistake that would have been, she was clearly a bottle blonde skank.
"She's a friend," Sam said, still studying Dean quizzically. "They're all my friends."
"Right," Dean said easily. "Whatever."
"Right," Sam repeated as Dean twisted the ignition viciously. The truck rumbled to life.
Then Dean twisted the key back and the motor died. "I'm just saying," he bit out. "If you're keeping your options open? You can do better than her."
Sam's brows rose. "Oh, is that what you're saying?"
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form words Sam had slid across the worn, old vinyl and was kissing him, passionately. There was no room to pull away, no room to fight, and anyway, after a moment of Sam's lips on his, Sam's tongue possessively stroking, Dean wasn't in the mood to fight. He gripped Sam's shoulders and let himself be kissed for long moments.
Reality came crashing back as Sam drew away and Dean opened his eyes to the sight and sound of Sam's friends hooting and punching the air.
"W- what the hell did you do that for?" Dean stuttered.
Sam gestured to Rebecca who was now watching with her hand over her smiling mouth. "Guess my options aren't so open any more, huh?"
Feeling like his face was on fire Dean flicked the ignition again, raising one hand and waving resignedly at the impudent cheers and jeers from Sam's crowd. "Yeah yeah," he muttered as they all waved back. He gunned the truck and pulled away from the curb. "You're a total jerk, you know that?" he said, relieved to leave Sam's friends in the rear view mirror.
"I'm the jerk? If looks could kill my friend Becky would be dead on the pavement back there. What the hell was that about?"
"She was hugging you," Dean pointed out, then winced at how lame that sounded. Sam must have thought the same thing because when Dean flicked him a glance, the younger man was twisted in his seat and staring at him expectantly. He reminded Dean of a school teacher he'd had in the third grade who would just stand with his arms crossed in front of a misbehaving class. It was the classic I-can-wait-all-day-if-I-have-to look and Sam had perfected it.
Dean blew out a breath. "I'm sorry, okay?" he said, aggrieved.
"Dean, man, if you can't trust me - after all we've been through together - then what the hell am I doing wrong?"
"I do trust you," Dean said defensively. "I just..." He darted another look at Sam who was now staring at him as if dumbstruck "What?" Dean demanded.
"You're jealous," Sam said blankly.
"Shut up," Dean huffed defensively.
Sam just grinned at him. "You're jealous," he said smugly.
Dean kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road. "Shut up," he muttered again.
-666-
Sam grinned smugly all the way home, chuckling under his breath as they pulled into the driveway and rattled to a stop.
"You're just loving this, aren't you?" Dean grumbled.
"Oh, yeah," Sam agreed. He turned on the worn vinyl and faced Dean, lifting one long leg and perching his knee on the edge of the broad seat. He rubbed the worn denim over his thigh. "You okay?" he asked softly.
"Other than feeling like a damn fool?" Dean answered sardonically. "Fine. Oh, and by the way, thanks for outing me in front of the entire university."
Sam shrugged a shoulder. "Actually it was myself I was outing."
Dean unfastened his seat belt and turned in his seat, studying Sam's composed face curiously. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"You mean will it put a crimp in my social life? You're my social life, dumbass."
"Hey, who said you could call me dumbass?" Dean protested.
Sam reached out and caught one of Dean's hands in his, holding it loosely, rubbing at the knuckles absently. "The whole of last year I kept my head down at school," Sam said quietly. "Keeping my grades up, studying. Didn't go to keggers, social events, spent more time in the library than at parties."
"You're such a geek," Dean said fondly.
"I thought this year I'd try to get out more, meet people. Maybe even join one of the hundreds of clubs I'm always getting flyers for."
Sam lifted his gaze from the rapt study of Dean's hand and met his eyes.
"I guess I was lonely," he murmured and Dean felt that echo somewhere inside himself. All his life he'd been lonely, all his life he'd felt this aching emptiness inside him. Something was missing, someone was missing from his life.
For the first time Dean realized that emptiness was gone.
"I had a brother once," Dean blurted out, and Sam looked at him, surprised. "I mean, I think I had a brother once."
Sam shook his head. "I don't understand."
"I don't really remember," Dean revealed. He'd only told this story once before, to Renie. And it didn't get any easier to tell. "I was sick when the authorities found me at that motel. For months all I remember is the hospital."
The bright children's ward, with the friendly nurses and the occasional clown to brighten up the lives of the sick children. And the parents who brought balloons and toys to all the other kids.
"What was wrong with you?" Sam asked huskily, hand tightening on Dean's.
"Pneumonia, and some complications," Dean said starkly. "By the time I felt well enough to think again, all I remembered was my name. And..."
Sam slid closer, taking both Dean's hands now. "And?"
"And that's about it. When I was well enough I went into the home, and from there the foster homes." He looked away for a moment, pushing away his bitterness at those years. "But then I started dreaming. Of someone sleeping in my arms, you know? Snuggling under my chin. Holding me, needing me. I think I looked after him." Dean shook his head. "But I don't even remember his name."
"Did you ask anyone? Social Services."
"Yeah." Dean laughed without humor. "They said I was making up imaginary friends. Said I was, uh, what was the word? Troubled?"
"Gee, I wonder why," Sam said acidly. "Did anyone even bother to find out for you?"
"One thing you learn, pretty quickly, Sam, when you're in the system. People do what they have to do for you, and no more. I was nobody's child. Nobody's particular concern."
Sam leaned forward and rested his head against Dean's. Their eyes met, and Sam's crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "You're my concern now," Sam whispered. "There's only you, you know that, right?"
Dean shifted a little uncomfortably at his earlier jealousy, and groped for words of explanation. "It wasn't you," he managed to get out. "It was her. Anybody. Nobody gets to touch you but me," he finished on a grumble and Sam chuckled, white teeth flashing, chest shaking.
"Possessive much?"
"Damn straight."
Their eyes met again and they were both laughing.
-666-
Dinner was waiting for them on the table and Dean and Sam washed up before sitting down eagerly.
"I love my mother's cooking to bits," Sam said, helping himself to a plateful before handing the casserole dish off to Dean. "But I have never eaten like this in my whole life."
"Pastitsio," Nick said proudly. "Renie's favorite."
"Nick used to make it every Sunday," Dean recalled, ladling himself a portion and handing around slices of crusty bread.
Nick settled down at the table with a sigh and shook out his napkin. "So, Dean, did Sam tell you that Ronnie's coming home?"
"That was quick." Dean shook his head. "I thought Shona would last until Christmas at least. Is she coming back with him?"
Nick shook his head sadly. "She says she's found a job and she'll send for Ronnie again when she's back on her feet."
"Right," Dean said cynically.
"Gary's just about had enough. I don't think Shona will find it so easy to drag that boy away next time."
"I'm looking forward to meeting him," Sam said. "Gary talks about him all the time."
"He's a good kid," Dean said thoughtfully. "Hey, Nick? Maybe we should do something for Thanksgiving this year. Invite Gary and Ronnie." He glanced at Sam. "We weren't in much of a mood for celebrating last year," he explained. "We had a pretty quiet Thanksgiving and Christmas."
"Yeah," Sam acknowledged.
"Well, this year will be different," Nick said firmly. "Renie wouldn't have wanted us to go around with long faces forever."
"No, she wouldn't," Dean agreed. Sam felt his chest tighten at that simple sentiment. Dean had a look that he reserved for those he really cared about and he always wore it when he talked about Renie. Then Sam's heart warmed when Dean quirked a smile at him across the table, and he saw that same look in his eyes.
"Sam?" Dean was asking. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving? You're welcome here, if you like?"
"I'm going home," Sam said, actually regretting that fact for the first time. "It's a pretty easy trip to Richmond."
"You're taking the Camaro, right?" It was more a statement than a question and Sam nodded.
"Thanks." He glanced at Nick and then back to Dean. "I'm gonna tell my parents," he said, a little nervously. "About us."
"That'll be an interesting conversation," Nick observed.
Dean was looking at him, his face carefully neutral. "How they gonna take it?"
"My mom will be okay, I think," Sam ventured. "But my dad..."
"It's tough for us older folks," Nick volunteered. "Be patient with him."
Sam had his own fears on that score, but he kept them to himself for the moment.
"Well, we'll miss you here," Nick said sincerely.
"Thanks."
-666-
After dinner Nick retired to the living room to watch his shows and Sam and Dean tidied up the kitchen and washed the dishes.
"What about your dad?" Dean asked, laying a slippery dish on the drainer. Sam picked it up and began rubbing it dry. "I'm guessing they don't know the gay side of you?"
Sam grimaced. "I'm still learning that side of me. But no, I never let them see that."
"You know, you don't have to put yourself through that," Dean said, head bent over the sink as he diligently scrubbed. "I mean, they're a long way away from here. They don't need to know."
"They're my parents, Dean. I want them to know what's going on in my life." Sam frowned as he tried to explain it. "I want to share this with them, talk about you to them. I want you to meet them someday."
"Meet the parents?" Dean said doubtfully. "I don't know, Sam."
"Don't you want to meet my family?" Sam asked, a little disapointed.
Dean shot him a look, then huffed a laugh. "Honestly? The thought scares the crap out of me. I mean. What are your parents gonna think about me?"
"Uh, let's see," Sam pretended to think hard. "That you're drop dead gorgeous? That you have big green eyes and lips to die for. And an ass..."
Hey, don't you think I'm traumatized enough?" Dean protested as Sam snickered coarsely. "I don't need to think about your parents and my ass in the same sentence."
"Or," Sam said, a little more seriously. "They might see a guy who's working hard to buy his half of the business from his partner." Sam hooked the towel around Dean's neck and drew him closer. Careless of his soapy hands Dean let himself be drawn. "A guy who takes care of his family and friends. They might see the guy I love," Sam murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Dean's lips, rubbing gently against their tempting curve. "Who takes such good care of me."
Sam crowded Dean back against the sink and kissed him again, humming his pleasure as Dean parted his lips and let him take his fill. Slowly he drew back and Dean untangled his lashes and opened his eyes, blinking dazedly at him. Sam grinned.
"But this Dean," he whispered possessively. "This Dean only I get to see."
-666-
Thanksgiving at the Fielding home was a huge undertaking, involving the merging of the two sides of the family. Both Colleen's Irish American parents and Nathan's African American family brought their own cultural traditions to the table, and it made for an eclectic and interesting weekend.
It could also get loud and rowdy and occasionally out of hand and by Friday afternoon Sam wasn't sure how much more he could take. He missed Dean the whole time, but especially at night, stretching out in his narrow old bed. It was amazing how quickly he'd gotten used to sleeping curled up next to his lover.
Up in his room Sam wandered around for a while then picked up his old high school yearbook from his desk and flipped through it. He glanced down at the phone and wondered if it was too soon to call Dean again. Last time he'd phoned everybody sounded like they were having a ball, he could hear Ronnie almost helpless with laughter in the background. Sam missed them all.
"Hey, Sammy."
Sam looked up from the yearbook, hair flopping forward over his eye. "Hey, Mom. It's Sam okay?"
"Sorry," his mom smiled, coming in and perching on the edge of the bed. "Looking at your yearbook?"
Sam glanced back down at the glossy pages before closing the book. His long fingers traced the design on the cover, circling the slightly raised numerals of 2001.
"It was on my desk," he shrugged, a little embarrassed.
"I was glancing at it the other day." His mom wrinkled her nose and brushed a lock of hair over his ear. "You want me to trim your hair for you, before you go back?"
"Mom, they have barbers in Palo Alto."
"If you say so." Colleen Fielding lifted the book from Sam's lap and flicked through the pages. "I saw Allie Hooper's mother the other day. She said Allie was coming home for Thanksgiving as well. Maybe you want to give her a call?" She paused at a page covered in pictures. Sam recognized himself standing next to Allie, both of them smiling widely for the camera. It had only been a year and a half ago and he already felt as if he were looking at his distant past.
"Mom, Allie and I broke up, remember? Different schools, different parts of the country?"
"Doesn't mean you can't still be friends, does it?"
"Actually, it kinda does."
Colleen gazed down at the picture, smiling mistily. "You both looked so happy that night. Your Dad and I were so proud of you, Sam." She lifted her head and smiled warmly at him. "We still are."
"Thanks, Mom," Sam said sincerely. "You know, I wanted to thank you. And Dad."
"For what, honey?"
"For adopting me."
His mom raised her brows in surprise. "What brought that on?"
Sam shifted a little on the bed, twisting to face her a little more. "I met this guy, Dean. He's like part owner of Petrakos Classic Auto."
"Your part-time job."
"Yeah. We kind of hit it off right away." Sam smiled a little, remembering the wonder of those first days falling in love. "He was in foster care for a long time, bounced around. He had... a pretty hard time of it."
This wasn't the time to share details, and Sam wasn't about to betray Dean's confidence. But for a moment he wanted to tell his Mom all about Dean's life, make her understand. Make her see how special Dean was to have survived all that.
One day.
"Anyway, it just made me think,' Sam continued quietly. "How different things might have been for me. How lucky I was to have been found by you and Dad."
"It wasn't luck," his mother said, laying a gentle hand on his. He lifted his gaze to her soft blue eyes, seeing the love in them shine for him, as they had every day of his life. "It was meant to be. You know, your Dad and I, we were looking for a girl, that first time. We thought maybe an African American girl baby. It wasn't a plan, just something we'd talked about."
Sam nodded, he'd heard this story before as a child and never tired of it.
"But the social worker, Mrs Casey, she took us to see you. Three years old, mop of brown curls on you." Colleen had to reach up to tweak a brown lock of Sam's hair now, but he submitted as he always did, with a half grin, half grimace. "And I took one look and fell in love. When I picked you up you smiled at me. Snuggled into my arms. Mrs Casey said you hadn't smiled at anybody since they brought you in."
"And you never regretted it?" Sam wasn't sure where that question came from, and from the genuine surprise on his mother's face, neither was she.
"Goodness, no," Colleen said firmly. "Like I said, it was fate. Remember when we decided to foster again we went looking for a little brother for you."
"And came home with Lily," Sam chuckled, glancing at the framed picture of his sister by his bed. Twelve years old now, plump cheeks, strikingly pretty slanted brown eyes.
"Fate," Colleen repeated. Her hand still covered Sam's on the coverlet between them and she stroked it gently. "Now, why don't you tell me what's bothering you."
Sam blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Well, something's on your mind. Has been since you arrived." She peered into his face, a little concerned. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Sam hastened to assure her. "Not a thing. In fact..." He drew a deep breath, nerves tingling. "In fact things are really good. I, er, met someone."
"Well," Colleen said in satisfaction. "No wonder you don't want to call Allie."
"Yeah," Sam ducked his head shyly.
"So, tell me about her. When can I meet her? Is it too soon? You could have brought her along for the holiday, you know."
"Mom," Sam interrupted, determined to get this out now. "It's not a her."
His mother broke off mid sentence.
"It's a him."
"What?" she said, half smiling.
"Dean, the guy I told you about."
"Wait a minute," Colleen said slowly, holding up one hand. "When you say you met someone..."
"I mean I'm in love. With Dean."
"Oh." Colleen looked away, a puzzled frown on her face. She opened her mouth as if to ask something, then closed it again. "Oh," she said again. "You're in love with a man."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, his stomach a complete knot. Expressions seemed to chase themselves across his mother's face. Confusion, worry, curiosity, more worry.
"Honey, I don't know what to say," she finally managed. "I didn't even know you... And then there was Allie... I mean, I was sure you and she were.."
"Having sex," Sam said, cheeks flushing a little. "We were."
"I thought you were," Colleen said, looking even more confused. "So, what happened?"
"Nothing happened, Mom. I really cared about Allie. If things had been different we might have stayed together and been happy. But as it turns out she went her way and I went mine, and then I met Dean."
"And fell in love."
"Yeah." Sam smiled again, relieved at the way this conversation was going. His mom really seemed to be listening to him.
"And the fact that he's a boy?" Colleen said doubtfully.
Now Sam's smile widened as he pictured Dean's reaction to being called a boy. "He's nearly twenty-three, Mom. He's a man."
"I guess so," his mother said, still looking nonplussed. "Well, honey, I won't say this hasn't shocked me. And I have about a million questions." She shrugged, eyes rueful. "I think I'm too embarrassed to ask most of them."
Sam huffed out a laugh and impulsively reached out and hugged her to him. "I'd like to say you can ask me anything," he chuckled. "But that's actually a kind of scary thought."
"Oh, Sammy," Colleen, said with sudden emotion, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. "Are you sure you're okay? Are you happy?"
Sam drew back and smiled. "I really am, Mom."
There were tears standing in his mom's eyes, but she blinked them away determinedly. "Well, all right then." She sat up straighter and rubbed at her nose with one knuckle. Sam recognized it as her 'getting down to business' look. "Tell me about him. Tell me about Dean."
"I have pictures," Sam said, jumping up and dragging his duffel bag over. He rifled through it and pulled out an envelope. "I'm helping him fix up his old car," he explained, handing over the first shot. Dean was standing over the open hood of the Impala, glowering for the camera. "He was mad because Nick was making fun of his Chevy," Sam explained.
Colleen took the picture and studied it. Then she accepted the next one Sam handed her, of Dean now more relaxed and smiling reluctantly.
"He's very handsome," she admitted.
"Isn't he?" Sam enthused. "I was worried he was gonna be some party guy when I first met him, but he isn't. I mean, apparently he used to see a lot of girls, so Nick said, but never anything serious."
"He went out with girls too?"
"Sure." Sam handed over a few more shots, explaining who and what and where. "I took this one with the timer." It showed Dean and Sam flanking Nick, all of them grinning, the two younger men streaked with grease.
"That's Nick?" Colleen asked.
"Yeah. Nick and his wife kind of took Dean in when he was a teenager. Now Dean is buying a partnership in Nick's shop by managing the place single handed. He works so hard, Mom," Sam said earnestly, wanting her to understand. "And he takes care of Nick. And..." Sam caught her gaze. "And he takes care of me too, Mom. He really does."
Colleen met her son's gaze for long moments, head tilted to one side, a slight frown puckering her brow. Finally she nodded. "I guess he does," she admitted. "So, when will I get to meet him?"
Sam grinned, and squeezed her hands. "Well, I have to talk to Dad first."
"Oh, honey," his mom interrupted. "I wish you'd leave that to me."
"You don't think I should tell him?"
"I really think it would be better coming from me. You know he's a bit old fashioned about some things. Besides," she hurriedly continued. "This is hardly the time with a houseful of family."
"I guess," Sam agreed reluctantly.
His mom stood up and patted his arm. "Come on, let's rejoin the party."
-666-
"Hey, Uncle Nick?" Ronnie called out. "Do you have any more gas for the lawn mower?"
"There's a can under the bench," Dean told him, and Sam slipped around the engine block and found it.
"How's it going?" Sam asked as he unscrewed the cap and handed it to Gary's grandson to pour into the mower.
"I know these guys missed me," Ronnie said, grinning and shaking his head. "But you think one of them could have cut the grass while I was away?"
"We just couldn't live up to the master, Ron," Dean chuckled, leaning back against the bench casually.
"Couldn't shift your lazy ass, more like," Ronnie muttered, sounding more like he was sixteen than twelve. Then suddenly he was twelve again, dropping the empty can at Sam's feet and taking off with a squawk as Dean pushed away from the bench and lunged after him.
"Gramps, help!" he shrieked as he circled Nick's precious California holly bushes with Dean only inches behind.
"Call me lazy, will you!" Dean panted, reaching out but grabbing only air as Ronnie raced over to Sam and ducked behind him.
"Lazy and old!" Ronnie taunted from the cover of Sam's back, then squeaked again and disappeared around the house.
Dean made a big show about panting up and grabbing Sam for support. "Did you hear that?" he puffed. "He called me old."
Sam laughed in delight at the by-play, taken all over again by this new side of Dean. With Ronnie Dean seemed to drop all his guards and become a kid again. Or the kid he never got the chance to be.
"You have grease on your nose," he informed Dean.
"I'm never gonna get this carburetor fitted, am I?" Dean said resignedly, scooping up the gas can and accepting the lid back from Sam.
-666-
"Hey, what happened to old carburetor we put in?" Ronnie had wandered in while Sam was showering. He had some meeting he'd promised to attend with his friends from school.
"I told you it would probably be too small when we fitted it," Dean reminded him, picking up a wrench. "Sam found me this one on the internet. Got a good price. We still had to rebuild it though." Dean glanced at him. "Could have used your nimble fingers for that one, buddy."
Ronnie stroked a finger over the buff, gleaming surface of the Rochester BV. "I wish I'd been here."
Dean slanted him a sympathetic look. "Rough?"
Ronnie shrugged, kicking the concrete floor with a scuffed trainer. "Let's just say Shona was out of practice at the mothering business."
"Does she get points for trying?"
Ronnie shrugged again. "I don't think she's coming back this time, Dean."
Dean nodded, then patted him on the shoulder. "Least you got your grampa."
"Yeah," Ronnie said, brightening a little. "And if you think this place is bad, you should see Grampa's garden. He just can't manage without me."
"Yeah, it was tough. But hey, look on the bright side, extra cash is extra cash," Dean said practically. "Just as long as you don't waste it on any more of that rap trash music of yours."
"Right, Mr It's-not-music-if-it-was-written-after-1980."
"Ah, you're so young," Dean teased, mussing the boy's hair teasingly.
"Hey, hands off the 'fro," Ronnie huffed. He toyed with a few tools while Dean went back to work. "Hey, Dean?"
Dean straightened at the serious tone. "Yeah?"
"Does Sam live here now?"
"Pretty much."
"Oh." Ronnie fiddled with a discarded hose. "Is he your boyfriend?"
Dean opened his mouth then closed it again. He supposed he should have expected something like this. And he and Ronnie had always been able to talk about everything.
"I guess," Dean said slowly. "That's not exactly how I'd put it, but yeah. Close enough."
Ronnie's mouth turned down. "Oh, man, I thought Gramps must have had it wrong. Dude, he's like six feet tall!"
Dean's brows rose. "So?"
"So if you're gonna go for a guy, shouldn't he be shorter than you?"
Nonplussed, Dean could only stare for a moment. "But then I'd be taller than him," he said confusedly.
"Yeah," Ronnie said, as if talking to an idiot. "But you're the man, right?"
Dean pulled at one ear, hoping Ronnie wasn't talking about what he thought he was, but pretty sure he was out of luck. "Where is this coming from?"
"I don't know," Ronnie said moodily. "You're my role model, Dean. And now you're gay."
"So, what? You're warped for life now? Deal with it, squirt."
Ronnie spread his hands indignantly. "Deal with it? That's all I get?"
"What do want, a fruit basket?" Dean relented a little, aware he was being an ass and trying to tone it down. It wasn't Ronnie's fault that this was actually the first time he'd really had to discuss this. Nick had just accepted it and Dean and Gary had never actually spoken about it, although Dean suspected Gary and Nick had had a few private talks together concerning him and Sam.
"Look, Ronnie," Dean said carefully. "I'm still the same, guy, okay? Who I climb into bed with at night shouldn't change that."
"Oh, barf," Ronnie said, making a face. "Are you allowed to say stuff like that to me? I'm only twelve, remember?"
"Yeah, twelve going on thirty," Dean muttered and Ronnie grinned, looking flattered. "Is this really gonna be an issue?"
Ronnie shrugged. "Gramps said I shouldn't ask you about it. He said it was private."
"We're buds, right?" Dean reminded him. "You know you can ask me anything." Dean hurriedly held up one greasy hand. "Practically anything."
"Don't worry," Ronnie smirked. "I don't want to know any gross details. Just... You used to run around with a lot of women, right?"
"Maybe you are too young for this," Dean said uneasily aware that his past sexual history with women wasn't exactly PG-13.
"You said anything."
"I said practically anything," Dean amended, then sighed gustily. "Okay, okay. What do you want to know?"
"Is Sam gonna stay here?"
Dean considered this. "I hope so."
Ronnie thought for a moment. "Are we still best friends?"
Dean grinned and held out one closed fist. "For life, buddy."
Ronnie closed his own fist and bumped it gently with Dean's, then squeaked and protested when Dean wrapped an arm around his neck and squeezed him in a quick half hug.
"Hey, what did I tell you about messin' with the 'fro!" Ronnie protested, but he was grinning as he smoothed his hair down.
-666-
Sam was almost helpless with laughter. "Shouldn't you be taller?" he repeated through his chuckles. "The hell?"
"Don't ask me," Dean said, lips quirking. "Kids say the darndest things."
"You're really good with him, you know?"
Dean shrugged with one shoulder. "He's a good kid."
"I can't wait till you meet Lily." Sam shook his head. "She's gonna have the biggest crush on you." His phone rang and Sam glanced at the caller ID. "Hey, co-incidence. It's Mom." he flipped the phone open. "Hi, Mom. Did you talk to Dad?"
Dean watched as Sam's hopeful face fell.
"Yeah, I understand," Sam said reasonably. "Look, put him on, let me talk to him."
Dean's heart wrung with sympathy as Sam looked away, chewed at his lip. "Yeah, okay," he finally said softly. "Yeah, I love you too. Say hi to Lily for me."
Slowly Sam closed the phone. "He wouldn't even talk to me."
Dean wrapped and arm around Sam's shoulder and drew him close.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
End of Part Four.
Two more parts to go. Phew!