Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.
When Sam brings home Rowena's "affirmation mirror," he finds the reflection it casts is every inch as fabulous as the ornate design that frames it...
Written for the 2020 SPN-BigPretzel Spring Fic Exchange on LiveJournal. Candygramme's prompt was: "Sam is working his way through the legacy Rowena has bequeathed to him. He finds a mirror that connects him with...?"
~#~
Mirror, Mirror
"What the hell is that?" laughed Dean from his seated position, feet up on the table and reading a car maintenance magazine.
Sam glanced down at the large, ornate, metal-framed mirror he was carrying in both hands before looking back at his brother with a disappointed glare.
"A mirror," he replied.
"Yes, brain box, I can see that, but what are you doing with it?"
"It was Rowena's. I've been going through all the stuff she left us, and it kinda grew on me. I thought I could use it for in my room."
Dean snorted. "It just seems out of character, is all." He waved a dismissive hand in Sam's direction. "Great big galoot like you? I mean, it's not like you care what you look like!"
"Hey, I do care..." Sam protested weakly.
Dean continued blithely unaware of Sam's increasing displeasure. "Or what your room looks like, come to think of it. It's not like you've ever decorated. I mean, come on, have you even unpacked yet?"
Sam shuffled in place, tightening his grip on the mirror and pulling it closer to his body to balance the weight, holding it up like a shield between him and his brother. In his mind, he could imagine using it to reflect Dean's stinging comments away from him. "Well, it's not like we don't still head out on the road."
"Yeah, yeah, of course we do," scoffed Dean, his nose already back in the magazine he'd been reading earlier.
Sam recognized when he'd been dismissed, so, with a few choice words quietly muttered under his breath, he shuffled his way down the long, cold corridor to his room.
~#~
Sam pushed the door shut behind him, at the last minute making sure not to slam it. There was no point being dramatic, he reasoned, it's not like Dean would even notice. He gave a heavy, world-weary sigh as he considered how tough it could be, sometimes, being the near-constant brunt of his brother's jokes. And Jack and Castiel being on the road, doing their angel-nephilim bonding thing, just meant he felt even more in his brother's sights than usual.
Still, even a stopped clock is right twice a day, Sam considered as he stood in the center of his room and took a long, hard look around. Dean was right, not that Sam would ever admit it, but the room did look rather spartan. The bare nails in the otherwise empty walls were evidence that living underground hadn't put a decorative dent in the surroundings of the previous Men of Letters occupants.
Gingerly tugging on one of the nails to test it for strength, Sam cautiously hung the mirror on the wall. It was hardly a grand transformation, but he had to agree that it certainly lent something to the otherwise drab and utilitarian room.
"Dull and functional, just like me," sighed Sam, unashamedly feeling sorry for himself while gazing unhappily into the mirror. Sometimes it was good to wallow. Dean had a strict rule that the only person allowed to speak ill of Sam was Dean himself – not even Sam was allowed to be critical. He supposed it was sweet if somewhat smothering.
"Well, shame on you!" cried Sam, his eyes widening in shock at the unbidden and unexpected words flowing from his mouth. Words that were equally mouthed by the reflection in front of him, but whose movements now no longer conformed to Sam's own. "A tall streak of hot, salty goodness like you has got no damn reason to be down on yourself!"
Sam jolted back from the mirror. Years of practice enabled him to assume a defensive position and draw the large hunting knife, which he kept strapped to his calf, in one smooth, easy motion.
"Who said that?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes as he peered at the figure in the mirror that clearly hadn't got the memo on how reflections were supposed to work.
Said reflection was leaning cross-armed on its own side of the mirror. It waved a finger at him admonishingly with a most uncharacteristically not-Sam-like smirk stretched across its face.
"Well, the fact that I'm appearing to you would suggest that you're Samuel Winchester, even if your questioning makes me think I've been oversold on your whole level-of-intelligence thing." Again the words were mouthed by the creature in the mirror but were actually uttered by Sam. "Are you sure you're not the other one? Demean, or whatever his name is?"
"You better tell me what you are, right now, or, I swear, I'll smash this mirror," growled Sam, hefting the solid weight of his blade in one hand.
"Oh, my sweet Samuel," cried the reflection in Sam's voice, although the tone and phrasing were unmistakably other. "I'm a gift for you, of course! Silly boy!"
"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts," Sam growled, "A gift from whom?"
"Och, well, there's no need for xenophobia," huffed the reflection. "Although, I'm certainly not from that part of the world. Are you sure you didn't hit that great big noggin of yours on the way in? You are ridiculously tall to be living underground like a wee mole-man."
"Rowena?"
"Ding, ding, ding, and he almost gets it, at last, ladies and gentlemen," chuckled the reflection. "But no, I'm not Rowena, I could only dream to aspire to be such a goddess of taste and beauty. No, I'm her affirmation mirror."
Sam's jaw dropped. For someone whose idea of a good time was sitting quietly in a library, his throat was certainly sore from all the unusually high level of use it was getting. "Her what, now?" he croaked.
"I know, dear! Such a thing hardly seems likely, does it? That such a radiant creature that walks in beauty might benefit from my poor declarations of devotion? No, far better to pass them on to some unfortunate wretch like you, who might be in desperate need of such a pick-me-up."
Sam didn't know what to say or even what to feel. Insulted, maybe, but he couldn't help but recognize a ring of truth in the reflection's words.
"Oh, you poor lamb, you seem quite worn out by all the excitement! Let dear old... ooh, now what shall I call myself? Let's see, Rowena and Sam. How about Ram? No, that's got too much of a manly, thrusting-sounding, easily heteronormatively-assumed ring to it, don't you think? Whereas Sawena seems a little too sassy and extreme. They sound like someone who would ride roughshod over such a sweet, vanilla boy like you. Hmm, maybe on second thoughts that's perfect!"
"Huh?" mumbled Sam, barely able to keep up with the avalanche of words that tumbled from his mouth.
"Don't you worry that sweet, little, massive head of yours. Off to bed with you," ordered the newly named Sawena with a stern clap of their hands. "We can make a start first thing in the morning. Technically, you are supposed to reset the spell between owners, but it's too late for that now. It probably doesn't matter, I mean, what could possibly go wrong?"
Sam felt exhausted and could barely stop yawning. This was all too much. Sleep sounded like the perfect solution.
~#~
When Sam awoke the next morning, it was to feel more refreshed than he had in ages.
"Boy, that was one weird dream, though," he thought, looking around the room with a faint sense of befuddlement as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He noticed that his ordinarily immaculate room didn't quite appear as he remembered it. In fact, it looked like someone had had a good rummage through all the clothes in his closet. His favorite flannel shirt (he could tell as it was the one with the torn collar) lay discarded on the floor, and some of his older, more worn and threadbare underwear poked out from his chest of drawers. He snorted, who was he kidding? All of his underwear was old; the running joke being it was all so hole-y it might one day come in handy on a hunt.
Sam shook his head as he reasoned it was probably just Dean trying to put his clothes away in the dark so that he didn't wake him. Yeah, that makes sense. After all, other than brief periods of relying on girlfriends, he'd always relied on Dean to do his laundry. Heck, his brother even bought his clothes for him!
Yeah, I've definitely been stressed and overtired recently, no wonder I'm imagining things. His stomach's long, loud growl brought his attention to more pressing matters and breakfast. He wondered if Dean had made anything yet. He just hoped it wasn't too unhealthy.
~#~
"Were you in my room last night?" asked Sam as he stepped into the kitchen. Dean, as ever the early riser, was already there.
Dean turned from where he stood frying up a storm. "No, why? Were you hoping I'd come tuck you in?"
Sam rolled his eyes, although, Yeah, that does sound kinda awesome. "No, of course not," he lied. "It's just some of my clothes seemed like they'd been moved around."
Dean snorted, although his attention was firmly back on his bacon. "I've not had a chance to get to the laundry this week." He cast an amused, critical eye at Sam hovering in the doorway. "Although, I do sometimes wonder if you're big and ugly enough to wash your own clothes?"
"You think I'm ugly?" asked Sam in a wavering, shocked gasp that was barely a whisper, as he struggled to absorb this devastating news.
"Don't worry, bucko," chuckled Dean, slapping his brother on the shoulder so hard Sam stumbled. "I might have got all the good looks, but you got most of the brains, ya big nerd."
Sam had been a small child and deep-down he'd long suspected he'd always feel small too. Dean obviously agreed with that too, he concluded.
Of course, it might feel nice to be cherished and looked after, but maybe it's time to step out of your brother's shadow? whispered a voice in his head that sounded a little like his own.
Why bother when everyone just thinks I'm some kind of great lumbering klutz? he retorted mentally. He guessed Dean was right, Sam knew he was an intelligent guy - no need for false modesty - but, given his large appearance, most people just assumed he was dumb anyway.
What did it even matter when he was always going to play second fiddle to Dean, anyway?
Of course it matters! his new internal voice tried to argue indignantly through the thick gray fog that seemed to swamp his thoughts.
"Bacon?" asked Dean, offering a loaded plate, unwitting of the mental turmoil he'd triggered.
"No, I seem to have suddenly lost my appetite," said Sam icily.
"All the more for me," shrugged Dean, shoveling a slice in his mouth and chewing deliberately noisily.
"You know, you really ought to watch your weight," snapped Sam. He wasn't really sure of what had got into him or even what he was saying. "That's packed with salt and, with a temper like yours, you don't need the added blood pressure."
Dean paused mid-chew, his mouth half-open as he stared back at Sam with a hurt and stunned expression on his face.
"You're not getting any younger, you know," Sam added with a dismissive sniff, before turning on his heel and marching back to his room.
~#~
"Oh my god, what have I done?" Sam groaned, throwing himself face-down on his bed.
"You've finally seen your worth and stood up for your own damn self!"
Sam jumped up from the bed as if electrified and dropped to a defensive crouch while scanning the room.
His reflection beckoned to him from the mirror. "Now, now, don't be shy. Come a little closer so I can get a good look at you."
Without meaning to, Sam did as he was told, edging cautiously nearer to the mirror. "So it wasn't a dream," he exclaimed, wide-eyed with wonder. "Who... what are you?" he breathed.
"I'm like the wonderful love child you and Rowena never had together," smirked Sawena from the mirror, the words coming unbidden from Sam's own lips. Although, Sam noticed that the pronounced Scottish burr had faded to a higher-pitched, breathier version of something closer to his own accent.
As before, while the rest of the room was reflected, the figure in the mirror didn't behave like a real reflection and moved independently. On the surface, Sawena might look like and dress like him, but there was something different in appearance that Sam couldn't quite put his finger on.
Sawena made a production of gagging spectacularly. "Urgh, what a horrible mental image," they gasped through a ridiculously overblown bout of retching. "Why would I even put myself through that? Who'd want to see you two going at it?"
Sam paused at that, a faint smile taking birth on his lips as his mind supplied an interesting mental image.
"Now you're just making me queasy," Sawena sighed. "Typical man. But to answer your question, since you used the mirror without resetting the affirmation spell, I'm now basically you if you were awesome but also had a strong, sexy, self-assured woman inside you," they added with a smirk. "Yes, seemingly unlike you, Rowena liked but didn't really need my services. Anyhow, let's move on to other, less-important-than-me, matters."
They leaned forward, still within the mirror, and inspected Sam with a long, lingering, up-and-down, but ultimately unimpressed gaze.
Sam wrapped his arms around himself and shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to another and back again under the intense scrutiny. This was all proving to be an odd experience, and while it made him feel more than a little exposed and self-conscious, he didn't sense any malice or threat from the strange not-a-reflection. He decided, for now, to let it play out and see what happened.
Sawena gave a disappointed sigh to announce the end of the inspection. "Your make-up is terrible," they declared.
"I'm not wearing any make-up," replied Sam, with a chuckle startled out of him by the strange statement.
"Exactly. And just look at these nails! Did you trim them with a chainsaw?"
They glanced down at themselves in the mirror with an odd, sly expression. "Oh my, it seems like it's not all bad. Although, there goes any hope of a smooth line under my clothes ever again. There's no way I'm going to be able to tuck that."
Sam blushed furiously but, despite his embarrassment, was emboldened enough that he couldn't resist what for him was a daring retort. "Well, that's the first time I've ever had any complaints."
Sawena shrieked with laughter. "Touché! It feels like I'm having an effect on you already."
"I'm fine, I don't need anyone to have an effect on me," Sam growled.
"Now, now, don't lie to me, sweetcheeks. You're enough a part of me that I know that ain't true by a longshot," scolded Sawena. "Luckily, Rowena had self-assurance in spades to offset all your little neurosis. Just trust in your Auntie Sawena, and I'll soon lead you down the right path."
Without warning, the door opened and Dean poked his head into the room. "Hey, you okay there, Sammy?"
Jolted by the sudden interruption, Sam glanced back towards the mirror to see that Sawena was gone and the mirror now casting his reflection as normal. He turned back to his brother, deciding that any explanation was going to make him sound like a crazy person. "Er, yeah, everything's fine, thanks."
Dean took his time giving the room a thorough visual inspection through narrowed, suspicious eyes. "Yeah? I thought I heard you talking to someone."
Sam couldn't help but bristle at the accusatory tone. "Just giving myself a pep-talk, you know how it is," he replied after a brief moment's thought. He wasn't sure what compelled him not to explain the truth of the situation.
Dean's eyes seemed to connect to his with a laser-intense focus. "No, I don't. Perhaps you could explain it to me?"
"How could I forget?" cried Sam through a sour taste in his mouth, overcome with a burst of boiling fury. "You've never had a moment's doubt in your entire life, how could I possibly have thought you'd understand me?"
He had a moment of guilt at the sheer look of horror and shock that twisted Dean's features brought on by his outburst, but he firmly tampered it down. With a strong sense of resolve, he placed one large hand on his brother's chest and gently but firmly pushed him back out of the door.
"Now, get out of my room and leave me alone," he said firmly, slamming the door shut in Dean's astonished face.
Sawena was back in the mirror, their shrill cackling laugh echoing from Sam's lips.
"Oh my, sweet Samuel, that was priceless! Did you see his face? I knew you had it in you - we just needed to bring it out! I'm so proud of you, Sammy-boy!"
"Sam," he corrected.
"What's that, sweetums?" asked Sawena coquettishly.
"Samuel was my grandfather, and as you say, Sammy is just a boy, and I'm not a little kid anymore."
Sawena grinned. "Corrected and noted. I can see you're certainly ready to come out-"
"Oh! No, I'm not-" Sam interjected, flushing furiously.
"-from where you've been hiding in the shadows," continued Sawena, with a raised eyebrow, but otherwise without pause. "We just need to get you standing out, loud and proud, so everyone can see you as you really are."
Sam pulled a face. "I guess."
"No guessing about it – and I certainly need a change of wardrobe, if nothing else."
Given their somewhat theatrical nature, Sam felt incredibly nervous at the thought of being dressed by Sawena. "I'm not sure..."
"Just trust me," insisted Sawena.
Sam gave a snort.
"You trusted Rowena, didn't you?" They frowned at Sam's skeptical response. "Well, you trusted her enough you were happy to take her mirror! And I'm a little part you, and you must trust yourself, surely?"
Sam sighed, not sure that he did. He was sure, however, that he wasn't going to win this. If having Dean as a brother had taught him anything, it was to pick his battles.
"All right, you win," sighed Sam.
Sawena eyes lit up, and they jumped up and down in triumph, clapping their hands in delight. "You won't regret this! But I can't do miracles - I can only work with what I'm given. So, we need to go shopping!"
Sam groaned in despair.
~#~
Dean was convinced there was something strange going on. Sam being a little moody was par for the course; you couldn't spend all day every day with someone and not get a bit pissed with them over nothing from time-to-time. That was just human nature. Okay, so it was usually him, rather than Sam that did the losing temper thing, but his big, little brother could still be a drama queen and a little bitch when he wanted to.
The talking to himself in a different voice was a new thing. As were the long periods of staring at himself in that godawful mirror he'd got from Rowena – although he had noticed that now apparently any reflective surface would do.
Speak of the devil... He straightened as heard the footsteps announcing Sam's approach.
Dean rubbed his chin, deep in thought, as instead of the usual post-teenage slouch, Sam practically skipped into the room.
"You've... done something with your hair?" asked Dean. There was definitely something different about his brother.
Sam pulled an exaggerated smile that wasn't as pleasant as he probably thought it was. "I brushed it," he breathed dismissively, before changing the subject. "I'm going shopping... so, er, I need to borrow the car... please."
Dean couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the request. They'd always had somewhat of an unspoken agreement that Dean made the olive branch gesture of offering for Sam to drive his Baby but that, failing apocalypse or near death, Sam would never actually take him up on it. Something weird was clearly going on inside Sam's head.
"You want me to drive you?" asked Dean hopefully. He'd always found it easier to have a heart-to-heart when driving, probably due to having something to do with his hands and having to concentrate on the road so you don't have to look at the other person, he suspected. He was emotionally unavailable, not emotionally unaware.
"No, we're good," answered Sam, plucking up the keys from the table. Dean already felt the pang of their lose, but struggled to remain the better brother.
"Okay," replied Dean, more than a little crestfallen. "But if you go by the bakery, can you at least pick up some pie?"
"We're not going out for groceries," chuckled Sawena.
"What?" Dean was now completely confused.
"I'm off to the mall," Sam called back over his shoulder.
Mouth agape, Dean watched him leave.
~#~
"I've never regretted something so much in my entire life," babbled Sam as a gaggle of high school-aged girls giggled and flocked out of his way. "I can't believe you talked me into this."
A group of young men in their early twenties were not so accommodating. Sam could practically feel himself stoop and wilt under the hateful glares and the barrage of shouted abuse.
"Walk tall, Sam," advised Sawena. "As a wise woman once said: 'unless they're paying your bills, pay them bitches no mind'. I mean, really, what a lot of silly fuss over the barest hint of mascara and the tiniest touch of cherry lip gloss," they scoffed. "Anyone would think they've never seen a man wearing make-up before!"
"I don't think they have," hissed Sam, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. "And it's hardly a hint, you practically troweled it on."
"Well, you didn't complain... much... at the time. And besides, the smoky look really makes your eyes pop and those luscious lips of yours were just crying out for moisturizer," said Sawena in their most persuasive tone. They interrupted themselves with a loud, piercing shrill of excitement on spotting a nail salon.
"Ooh look, and you desperately need a manicure... shall we?" Sawena wheedled and beckoned from their reflection in the salon's window. "Come on, it'll make up for the lack of decent, plus-sized clothes stores in this backwater."
Sam frowned down at his hands, wringing them together. "I dunno, I suppose they are kinda rough."
Sensing his hesitation, Sawena pounced. "That's my boy! Now, let's go put the man in manicure shall we?"
~#~
Dean flashed his fake badge to the uniform cop behind the counter. "I got a call that you'd brought in a Sam Winchester for brawling?"
"More like a catfight," the man snorted, phoning through to the back.
Dean's mouth dropped at the sight of Sam as he was led handcuffed into the room in full make-up, long, crimson, fake nails, and wearing what looked like a too-tight, woman's halter top.
"Well, don't just stand there. Tell us we look gorgeous," cooed Sawena. They frowned at Dean's stunned silence and spoke again more firmly. "Don't we look gorgeous?"
They were mollified somewhat by Dean's slow, dazed nod. "Okay, but how about sexy? Sensual?"
That seemed to wake Dean from his reverie. "What? Sam, really?"
Sawena rolled their eyes but conceded that was probably a step too far for Sam's brother. "All right, but how about breathtaking?"
"You're certainly something..." said Dean, still with a dumbfounded expression on his face and momentarily distracted himself by motioning to the waiting cop.
"Okay, finally, jeez. I swear it's like pulling teeth trying to get a little, tiny compliment out of you," complained Sawena, rubbing the feeling back into their wrists once the cuffs had been removed.
"She, he, or whatever is all yours," scoffed the cop, handing over the paperwork for Dean's signature. "Better watch your back with this one, buddy."
"Hey, you watch your tongue," Dean barked, visibly bristling. Papers signed, he shoved the clipboard hard into the cop's stomach. "And last I heard, it wasn't a crime to dress how you want. Given your tone and how you didn't seem to catch anyone else involved in this alleged brawl, I wouldn't be surprised if you don't hear from Mr. Winchester's lawyer. Me, I'll be recommending sensitivity and diversity training."
The cop glowered. "I'm sure it was all just a misunderstanding."
"I think that's the closest you're gonna get to an apology," said Dean, turning to Sam. "Come on, let's get you home."
"My hero," sighed Sawena, taking him by the arm.
~#~
"I'm glad that's over." Sam cast a nervous glance at his brother as they stepped from the Impala and made their way back into the Bunker. "Are we okay?" It had been longest, quietest drive they'd ever had.
Dean frowned. "Yeah, of course, why wouldn't we be?"
Sam shrugged, his voice choking betraying his air of nonchalance. "I was just, maybe a little worried how you might react to all this."
Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Well, it was a bit out of the blue, but if it makes you happy, of course I'll accept it. You're my brother; I love you, no matter how you dress."
Sam sniffed and patted his brother's hand.
"Oh, dammit, I just realized I broke a nail," cried Sawena, unable to keep quiet any longer.
"You're lucky that's all you broke – six onto one's hardly fair odds."
"Two," said Sam quietly.
"What?"
"There's something I need to tell you."
~#~
"Sore wiener?" Dean asked incredulously, looking from the gaudy, affirmation mirror to Sam and back again.
"Sawena," they corrected with an eye roll and a giggle.
"No offense, Sam," said Dean apologetically, "but Rowena was a pretty forceful character and had a habit of getting exactly what she wanted – it's no big surprise that you're hardly like yourself anymore."
Sam crossed his arms to show his irritation with his brother's words, only for him to frown and uncross them again at the sight of the resulting bulging and flexing of the powerful muscles in his forearms.
"Hey, I'm not knocking you for the crossdressing thing," Dean interrupted with a faint blush. "I'm just saying that this is all a sudden change in territory for you – compared to how a certain-someone else used to like to look. I'm worried she's gonna take you over completely."
"You're right," Sawena sighed. "But Sam, you have so much untapped potential! Together we could make you a truly amazing woman."
"I think there's a small thing you're overlooking there," scoffed Dean.
"Pfft, some of the most beautiful women in the world have gigantic penises," Sawena smirked with an exaggerated wink in Sam's direction. They gave a heavy, world-weary sigh. "But, if I was any less moral and honest than I am, then I suppose I wouldn't be at least part Sam. Unfortunately, the magic is tied up in this mirror, and while it exists so do I, and we're both bound to Sam as he's its next living owner."
"Don't worry, Sam, we'll figure this out somehow," said Dean. "Perhaps there's something in the library that'll help?"
"Oh for goodness sakes," cried Sowena. "How did you two ever get by before I came along? I practically just told you, please don't make me spell it out," she added while miming shoving something over.
"I don't know what you're trying to say, but how's 'bout we just smash the mirror?" said Dean with a shrug. He sniggered at the reflection. "Sorry, I was just messin' with ya."
"Are you sure that'll work?" asked Sam, fretfully. "And what about you, won't it kill you?"
Sawena gave an elegant shrug. "Who knows, maybe I'll go on to a better place? Other than seven years bad luck, if you're superstitiously so inclined, what have you got to lose?"
Uncharacteristically, Dean dithered. "I dunno, maybe you're right, but what if it hurts Sammy?"
Sam rolled his eyes and, in one fluid motion, stepped forward and shoved the mirror off the nail from which it hung. The mirror struck the floor with a thunderous crash and shattered into a million tiny, reflective fragments.
There was no sign of Sawena.
Dean studied Sam carefully for any visible signs of change. "So, do you feel any different?"
Sam rubbed at his eyes, leaving long smears of mascara. "Well, I'm washing this off for a start," he declared. "Probably ought to trim these nails too."
Dean shoulder checked him. "At least the color suits you."
"I might invest in some new underwear, though," Sam added thoughtfully. "I did read a while back that you might have intimate knowledge of that kind of thing?"
Dean turned a vivid scarlet. "How did you...? Ah, the Winchester Gospels, of course. That damn Chuck's always finding new inventive ways of sticking it to us."
"Come on," laughed Sam. "I think I might need some help getting out of this halter top."
~#~
From the shadows of the corridor outside, in a newly physical form, Sawena watched her little ugly duckling, now a beautiful swan of his own making, waddle off with a new purpose to his life.
Quietly, while the Winchesters were distracted by making a hash of washing off Sam's make-up, Sawena made their way from the Bunker. Their job was done, and it was time to move on.
They'd miss Sam, Dean, and even the Bunker - especially since, thanks to the joys of internet shopping, there were some fabulous, appropriately-sized shoes on the way. But Sam was a big boy now - they were sure he'd handle the heels on his own.
THE END
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