Over the next few minutes Sam tried calling Nick what felt like well over ten times.
First he'd done it standing in the driveway, listening to the man's phone ring and ring and ring before going to voicemail where Sam wasn't brave enough to say something. He probably kept that up for five minutes straight before Dean had come out, wondering why he'd heard a car pull up but no one had come inside. And Dean… who really was a good big brother, just stood there in the rain beside Sam for long enough to call him a dumb ass, then took him by the shoulders and hauled him inside.
A beer was placed into Sam's useless hands and he was steered to the couch. Stubbornly he tried calling Nick again, but after a few more failed attempts he just started getting sent straight to voicemail.
Which could only mean that Nick had turned his phone off.
Sam sank deep into the couch cushions, low enough to rest his head against the back of the couch and he with a sigh he closed his eyes and abandoned the phone somewhere beside him. "I… can't… I just can't."
Dean had lowered himself into the chair he must have been sitting in before coming outside, near to the coffee table which was once more overrun with some kind of car guts, all chrome and shiny and out of place in the living room. "Told you you should have dumped the guy."
"Not helping, Dean."
"Do I even wanna' ask what happened?"
His breath rattled around between his ribs, and Sam raised his head, glancing down at his phone and then at the beer that he'd managed to somehow not drop onto the carpet.
Sam felt like an actual idiot. "I- I don't know. He brought up dad and I just... I just. Oh god. I think I brought up his daughter and-" Sam was still feeling the horror of that choice. It had been a gut response. No thought to it, and only regret in it's wake. "-and now he's not answering his phone."
"Wait-wait. Hold up. You never said he's got a kid."
"Well.. he doesn't anymore."
Dean stared at him, the white of his eyes showing a bit too clearly.
The look was enough.
Even Dean thought he was a complete bastard for that one.
Sam sank a little deeper into the overwhelming horror of what he'd done.
"What did he say about Dad?" Dean asked carefully after a pause. Too careful to pull off the 'casual' tone that he was probably aiming for.
"That at least our dad didn't leave like his did." He took a long drink from his beer, and it was cold enough that it hurt his chest. "I would have… I would have fucking given anything to have Dad just walk out one day and never come back."
Mixed loyalties played over Dean and in the end he didn't say anything.
"We would have been better off without him." The same flash of anger that Sam had felt in the driveway came back in an instant, but it quickly soured back into guilt. Because Nick couldn't have known that. The blonde wasn't the only one who had big gaps in his life that he didn't want to talk about. Sam couldn't rightly blame the man for ignorance.
Nick had just said something stupid and Sam had done him one better.
"I am …literally the worst boyfriend." Because he hadn't just said something a little cruel, he'd gone right for Nick's weak spot. But that was just part of the Winchester charm, right? They didn't pull their punches.
"I say fuck 'em- and not like you've been doing, going at it like rabbits for the last few weeks. Because I walked in on that shit last Tuesday, with you guys on the stairs, and I could have gone my whole life without seeing some dude going down on my baby brother. I still have nightmares."
Suddenly Sam's whole face felt hot. Rightfully embarrassed for very valid reasons, the least of which being because this was the first he was hearing that Dean knew about what happened on the stairs a few mornings back. But right now was really not the appropriate time to think about the way that Nick's stubble had scratched along his inner thigh.
In all probability there was probably never an appropriate time to think about such things.
Dean waggled a wrench in his direction, derailing that warm train of thought. "He's a creep. He gives me the creeps. And he's a bastard. Leave him. You don't need him. I liked you better before you met him anyhow."
"He didn't-"
"Don't defend him." Dean hunched over his work, pointedly not looking at his brother while he spoke harsh words. "The fucker knows you well enough to push your buttons and anyone who plays dirty pool like that doesn't deserve you."
"He didn't mean it." Sam insisted, saying the words in a rush so he couldn't get cut off a second time. Because if Nick didn't mean it, then Sam didn't mean it either. They could both be forgiven.
Dean just gave him a long, hard look. "You're both fucking idiots, and I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses. Drink your beer and calm down. You don't get to call him until you can see the bottom of the bottle."
And it wasn't that Dean was encouraging him to get drunk before making a call. Dean just knew that Sam was in panic mode right now. He also knew that it would take Sam a few long minutes to finish off the drink and it would give him a chance to calm down before he did something stupid.
Well, one more something stupid.
He'd already set a pretty high bar for himself today.
The anxiety eased just a little by the time that Sam finished off those last weak drops of beer. Not much, but enough that he thought that he'd put together an acceptable apology. He took the empty bottle along with his phone to the kitchen- for recycling and privacy. Thought the house was quiet enough that Dean would probably still be able to hear everything- it was the illusion of isolation that mattered.
The call went straight to voicemail again, and Sam honestly preferred this than if it had rung on and on unanswered. Nick's phone being off was more a broad aversion to the world and instead of a singular shunning of Sam.
"Hey," in an instant all his carefully planned words flew apart and Sam sagged against the counter, resting his elbows on the formica, hand to his forehead. "I didn't mean it… call me back… please." He fumbled the end call button and then let the whole thing fall from his grasp, clattering down to the counter. There was no gentleness left in him.
" 's just pathetic." Dean's voice broke through to him, no pity to be found. Just that normal roughness that he did so well. "Come out and help me with the car."
Sam looked over, if only just to make sure that it was actually his brother standing there. There was one thing that they never did together, and that was work on Baby. She was Dean's and Sam literally didn't know the first thing about her inner workings.
"Come on, Sammich." He nodded towards the garage. "I'm gunna bring her inside, you are going to get us a couple of beers."
"Okay." Sam stretched the word out, not really sure what was going on.
As it turned out, it was all a distraction.
That was the only logical thing that Sam could think to call it hours later when he was tired, and dirty, cleaning up before dinner. It only dawned on him as he soaped up to his elbows that Dean had managed to drag his thoughts away from today's glorious crisis with auto manuals recited from memory like old stories. Sam had learned how to replace a transmission and how to change the car's oil and Dean had treated the whole thing as delicately as open heart surgery and the caution and care over every little move had completely consumed Sam.
He rinsed his arms, frowning at the black oil stains still beneath his nails. His head felt a bit clearer now, though that might have something to do with beer number two, or three. But it made sense to him now, at least as much as it ever would. He and Nick had had their first 'real' fight, and it had basically boiled down to name calling. Which, in the end, meant that they were no better than six year old girls.
Sam had apologized already, he'd made the attempt, and tomorrow Nick would call him back and apologize too, and they could both feel like complete asses and then they could have some makeup sex. And Sam had never had makeup sex, but if rumors were to be believed, it was something to look forward to.
Only… Nick didn't call him the next day.
Or the day after that.
And Sam began to wonder at what point he should try calling again, or when he should just start getting annoyed.
Thursday came around, and despite Dean's very loud protests against such actions, Sam went ahead and gave Nick the benefit of a doubt and another call. He'd had almost four whole days to brood. And honestly, aside from the little hooks of guilt that wouldn't quite let Sam alone, he really just missed his boyfriend.
But this call, like the last one, went straight to voicemail and he found himself just staring blankly at the phone after the message beep with nothing really to say this time. He hung up without leaving anything behind and just sort of sunk down in his chair.
"Are we free then? Is that the sigh of quitting and getting over that douche of a boyfriend?" Dean leaned into the kitchen, apparently having been waiting just out of sight in the hall.
Sam looked over his shoulder and didn't know what kind of emotion was showing on his face, but it apparently was bad enough to take the grin right out of Dean.
"Can you ask Cas next time you see him, just… see if Nick's ok?"
"I'm sure he's fine." Dean sighed.
"Please?"
Dean's mouth was nothing more than a thin, angry line. Not at all interested in helping out with this one.
Sam let his shoulders sink as he used his best pleading look. The same look that had gotten him his brother's ice cream cones when they were kids, and getting to borrow the car for prom, and the top bunk of the bunk bed.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll ask." Dean looked disgusted with both of them. "God. You know, I never wanted a little sister for this reason." He clasped his hands under his chin and went into a rough falsetto. "Do you think he still likes me?"
Sam wished that he had something to throw at Dean, or that he was at least within smacking distance. "Shut up, jerk. Nick doesn't live on his phone, but I've never really seen him turn it off either. I'm just worried."
"Course you are." Dean just shook his head. "In the meantime, if you don't mind taking a break from writing 'Sam -hearts- Nick' all over your notebooks, you wanna go get something to eat?"
.:.
The report came back a few days later. Apparently Nick was just fine, though Dean had given the status update in a short, clipped kind of way that usually meant that he was either lying or really really just wanted nothing to do with any of this.
Sam wasn't willing to bet money either way to be honest. He had a feeling that this was just a losing game anyway he came at it. All the same, he waited for Dean to gumble and head upstairs for a quick shower, demanding that Sam order out for Chinese because he was too damn tired to cook tonight- and Sam got out his phone. But he didn't call for food. He called Nick.
Call him a sentimental fool.
Call him a masochist.
He just wasn't willing to live in a world where Nick was fine without him. There had been too much between them for everything to just stop dead in it's tracks and suffer no ill effects from it.
The ringing stopped suddenly and Sam felt his breath catch, but it wasn't Nick's low, smooth voice that came down the phone line.
"Hey, you giant son of a bitch." Gabriel practically sang. "I was hoping you'd call."
"Is Nick there?"
"Oh, you sweet summer child. You don't get to talk to my Nick anymore."
There was no way that he'd heard that right. No. Because, no. "Excuse me?"
There were some shuffling sounds and a door closing and then an odd amount of ambient people noise, like Gabriel had stepped out into a more public place. "See, he can't come to the phone, so I'm stepping in to answer all questions and concerns on his behalf and I'm making an executive decision here to call it quits for you two morons before anyone else gets seriously injured."
Sam's jaw hurt and he slowly became aware that he was grinding his teeth. "Give Nick back his phone. I need to talk to him."
"No can do, kido. I'm on my way out to my car and he's not really up for chasing me down."
And Sam wasn't going to ask to leave a message. It didn't seem likely that Nick would actually get it- or that he would call back, seeing as he hadn't felt it important enough to so far. "I don't like you." He managed instead, just sort of a wayward thought that found it's own voice.
"You're not exactly a contender for my new BFF either. You broke my favorite brother. And apparently he's too damn stupid to keep himself safe, so now I suddenly have to be responsible and do it for him- and I hate being responsible. It's not me. It's not what I do. It's not who I am."
"You're not even going to tell him I called, are you?"
"Oh, I'm going to pretend that you never even met him. Who is this calling? You must have a wrong number. So sorry." And Gabriel actually hung up on him.
Sam stared at his phone feeling a terrible, cold kind of anger that settled low in his stomach.
He managed to still order Chinese food. Enough for Dean to have leftovers for lunch tomorrow- but no extra for himself. He was too mad to eat. Mad enough that he almost borrowed the car and drove himself over to Nick's just to talk to him face to face. To let him know that his brother was a jackass.
But the anger soured and Sam found that he was just tired. Too tired to do anything about this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after.
If Nick wanted to get ahold of him, he knew how. There wasn't really anything else for Sam to do at this point other than wait, and try not to hope too much.
And, as insane as it sounded, life kept on going.
The world didn't come to a standstill around this finite moment.
Just the same as Sam found that he couldn't just skip over all the inane little details of every day and arrive at the glorious morning when he could open his front door and there would be Nick with a sheepish smile and an apology- or at very least an explanation.
It was just… life.
There were classes.
There were midterms bearing down on him.
There were arguments with Dean about leaving the bread bag open.
There were nights that he would wake up in a hot sweat, aching something fierce-
usually followed by mornings standing under a cold shower until he was shaking.
Honestly not much had changed except the massive Nick shaped void.
It was, for lack of a better work, terrible.
Absolutely terrible.
All the fundamental pieces were still there. The wheels were still spinning. The tides still rolled in. The the Earth still spun.
And Sam still missed Nick.
But it was life.
And there was no stopping it.
.:.
The most important part of it to keep in mind was that this wasn't a real date that Sam was on.
Sure, he hadn't heard from Nick in well over two weeks- but that didn't have any bearings on why Sam was out with someone else on a Friday night.
There was this girl named Jas in one of his debate classes who he'd kind of sort of known on the peripheral of various law classes for the past few years now. She was nice enough, and they'd sat next to each other for most of this semester which had lead to slightly deeper conversations between them recently than the last few years had produced.
And apparently her sister was out visiting for the weekend and now was going to be a really awkward time for Jas to come out as gay, so could Sam maybe come with her and her girlfriend and a few other people and sort of act as a beard, or at least a distraction to her older sister? It was just the movies. There would be six people going, and at least one other of the people would be male. Sam was just going along to keep it a balanced group- because apparently the sister had started thinking it was weird that Jas spent all her time only hanging out with her roommate.
Sam was a good guy, and Jas had offered to buy his movie ticket for him.
The only real problem in this whole thing was that Dean refused to even try to wrap his head around Sam doing a favor for a friend, and instead had gotten wholly caught up on the 'lesbian' aspect of it. It was embarrassing to the point that Sam had told Jas that he would meet her at the theater, not trusting whatever might come out of Dean if the girls came over to his place.
The movie had let out, some superhero nonsense with lots of explosions and dramatic angles, and now the group of rowdy college students were just sort of loitering out in the parking lot, breathing steam into the cold winter night like smoke and just laughing and joking around. For a few more minutes not worrying about homework and midterms.
Jas was tucked in between her 'roommate' and Sam, the three of them leaning against someone's Kia. And Sam had started to mentally check out, smiling and laughing on impulse and social cues, his mind kind of drifting. These last two weeks had been hellish and it was nice to just be in good company, settled into a group of actually happy individuals. It was easy to pretend along with them. To blend in.
He pulled his phone out to turn it back on (having switched it off for the sake of the movie and consideration of the other people in the theater), and saw that he had one new voicemail. No idea who it was from. Probably just Dean, wanting to know if there had been any of the 'girl touching' that he had seemed convinced would be going on tonight despite Sam's annoyed protests.
"You have one new message," his phone told him in a tiny, effeminate voice. "First message:"
"What are you doing?" Nick's voice came from far away, angry even at this distance.
A woman's soft, husky voice laughed warmly right against Sam's ear and it instantly went to his groin.
"Hey, hey- who are you calling?" Nick sounded closer. "That's my phone. Give it back, you turbo skank." Odd clattering and more of that inappropriate for public consumption laughter. "Hello…? Hello? …who did you call?"
Words that Sam couldn't make out beneath all the other noises and then Nick kind of grunted and the line got frighteningly quiet.
"Fuck." And then the phone went dead.
Sam stood there blankly. A great big glaring nothing ringing through his head as the electric voice in his phone gave him instructions on what to do next.
He ended up listening to the message three times over.
Even then he couldn't tell what it was that he was supposed to feel.
The message got deleted and the phone went back into his pocket.
Sam struggled to rejoin the conversation, sliding an arm around Jas' shoulders and smiling like he knew what was going on.
It wasn't as easy as it looked. Not by far.
Problematically, Winchesters were never all that good about brooding.
Well- no.
That wasn't entirely true. See, John was a master of melancholy. John could outwait the apocalypse itself, sitting there bleary eyed, with his arms crossed, grumbling things like 'I'll do what I want' and 'fuck you'.
But Sam and Dean? They must have taken after the mother that neither of them could really remember. Strong, stubborn, irrational genetics because neither could sit and be moody for all that long before the restlessness and anger took over, pushing them to action. Sometimes rather stupid actions- yes. But stupid was sure as hell better than sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.
So, regardless of what it might do to him, Sam found himself in the hall outside Nick's apartment early the next morning.
He knocked gently at first, almost worried that he was going to wake someone, but that was part of the plan, right?
He knocked a bit harder, rapping his knuckles below the peekhole.
About a rough minute later there was some scraping and shuffling, the lock clattering, and Sam braced himself- but he wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him as the door swung open.
She was tall. She was very tall, with artfully sleep tousled blonde hair and less than subtle curves that looked straight out of a Playboy- the mostly naked part certainly wasn't leading Sam away from that instant correlation that his mind had given him. She had on a top if nothing else. Nick's faded Johnny Cash shirt that might have been black years ago, tight across a pair of perfect breasts, and barely long enough that Sam felt it was a bit of a tossup whether or not there were any panties included in this ensemble. A gentle breeze would solve all mysteries.
He very firmly made eye contact.
Her face was not any less distracting however. So perfect and delicate that she had to have been put together by some very skilled, and very expensive, professionals.
"Hi?" She cocked a hip, folding her arms comfortably beneath those very perky breasts, wearing an easy smile that should have never left the bedroom.
Despite anything else that he intended to be doing right in that moment, Sam felt his neck growing hot. Chemicals taking over the reptilian part of his brain that hardly ever consulted him on matters like this. "Hi… is Nick here?"
Her eyes instantly got dark and her smile grew deeper. "Shower." Came the easy explanation.
And really, Sam didn't need any more details. He could put these pieces together and see a whole picture. He was a smart kid. Went to college and everything.
His smile felt veneered on, no deeper than surface tension holding him together.
"Oh." Was all he could say at first.
"You can come in and wait." The blonde in the doorway offered, but the way she said it sounded like much more than a simple invitation. Her gaze slowly trailing down Sam like a proposition.
"You must be Georgia." Sam thought he remembered the name of Nick's recurring one night stand- not that it was any excuse for what had obviously taken place here.
Her smile got a little sharp, edges of her very straight very white teeth dimpling her lower lip. "No. No I'm not Georgia." The honey going right out of her voice.
And Sam took some perverse pleasure in the fact that Nick was probably going to be getting at least half the hell that the younger man was feeling right now, once he got out of his damn shower.
"You know what," he raised his hands, palms out to sort of shield himself. " I'll just call him later." He excused himself as best he could, feeling that enough damage had been dealt out to everyone playing the game at this point. He knew when he'd lost, and he thought he might still be able to walk away with some dignity in tact.
"Who's Georgia?" She didn't look quite ready to let Sam escape though, her bare feet making soft sounds on the floor as she edged closer.
"An ex," which wasn't really a lie any more than it was the truth, but it was about the least spiteful thing that Sam could manage to say in that moment. He wasn't a complete ass. There was some remaining loyalty deep down in him that he really felt that Nick didn't deserve at this point.
She suddenly laughed, shadows of the same sound that Sam had heard on his phone the night before, only for some reason it didn't have the same affect on him in the harsh light of day.
"I bet she is. Nick's got about a hundred exs."
"Just about."
A hundred and one, actually.
There was definitely a plus one to add to the list.
Sam was rather sure.
:.
"Hey, Sammy. Gunna be home late. You're on your own tonight." Dean rattle off quickly like he didn't have time for a real conversation.
"Yeah. That's fine." Sam rubbed at the bridge of his nose, looking away from the textbooks that he wasn't really reading anyways. "You want me to save you some dinner?"
"Nah, I'll pick up something with Cas."
Instantly Sam went from mildly disappointed at the idea of eating by himself (which was really nothing new) to flat out annoyed. But this was nobody's fault other than his own and he choked down the bitterness he felt for his brother having a nice, pleasant, normal friendship with a decent human being. Easily managing something that Sam couldn't seem to do on the best of days.
"See ya later tonight?" Dean said when his little brother didn't offer anything.
"Yeah."
A slow sigh that tapered off into a groan. "What now?"
"Nothing. I'm just studying. It's fine." Which was a lie, because literally nothing felt fine. Nothing had for quite some time. But he was getting used to it.
"Nose to the grindstone, dude. Make sure you take some breaks. I swear you're going to go all Jack Torrance on me one of these days."
It was tempting.
"All work and no play makes Sammy a dull boy." Dean added.
Sam didn't think he was even halfway to a cabin fever kind of break down. Besides, they didn't even own an ax. "I went out to the movies just the other night."
"That was almost a month ago."
Had it really been almost a month since Sam had gone out with Jas?
He ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. Yeah, that sounded about right actually. They'd made it all the way through March and on into April.
Time sure does fly when you're having… not fun.
"You need to get out and get some sun."
"It's night right now."
Dean grumbled something that sounded like it would have been rather insulting if Sam was actually listening.
"Tell Cas hi for me."
"Tell him yourself." Dean snapped. "Once he's done balancing the books we're bringing you a pizza." He'd never been all that good at resisting playing the role of big brother- it was what he'd been made for after all.
And despite whatever protests Sam interjected, about two hours later he found himself sitting on the floor beside the coffee table, working on his half of a vegetarian pizza. It was hard to be annoyed when all his favorite toppings were smiling up at him.
Dean was up on the couch, hollering instructions to Cas in the kitchen who was supposedly getting them both a beer, but seemed to have just gotten lost- because it shouldn't take anyone that long to just get a pair of brown bottles from the fridge.
"Do you need help?"
"I am perfectly capable of finding beer. It's not like there's anything else in your fridge to serve as camouflage."
Sam hadn't seen Castiel in what felt like forever, long enough to make the man's odd little mannerisms feel new and strange all over again. His shifty eyed non-smile familiar in a way that didn't set right with the youngest Winchester.
"I couldn't find the bottle opener." The accountant announced apologetically as he returned from the kitchen, three bottles maneuvered between his fingers, despite the fact that Sam had said he didn't need one.
"Lem'me see 'em." Dean shoved the rest of his pizza crust into his mouth and stole one bottle from his friend. He leaned over the coffee table and used the edge to pop the cap off, holding it up like it was the beginning of a very important object lesson. "Sometimes you've got to improvise. Like that."
Castiel managed to not look overly impressed and simply handed the last bottle to Sam. "Your brother is a man of many talents."
"Damn right I am."
Sam could be studying right now. Instead he took another slice.
"How are classes?" Castiel was perfect at useless small talk, like he'd invented it. It helped to fill the silence in any case.
Sam glanced at the neat little pile of textbooks that had been moved to the floor beside him in order to make room for the pizza boxes. "Just finished midterms. Things are going ok I guess."
Eyebrows down low, Castiel seemed to have quite enough of trying to get his bottle cap off and just handed it over to Dean to do it for him.
"How are you?" The man rephrased with some deliberate intention.
"I'm …ok I guess." Sam shrugged.
Castiel nodded encouragingly, hint of a smile before taking back his now opened beer and indulging in a moderate sip.
Dean gently elbowed the man beside him. "Dude, I already told you he was fine."
"Brothers sometimes only see what they want to in situations like this."
Situations like this? Sam grunted in protest, but they were talking about him, not too him, and it was obvious that his input wasn't requested in the matter.
"He says he's fine. He's fine." Dean protested. "Maybe your jackass of a brother is just easy to get over."
Sam waved a hand in their direction. "I am sitting right here."
Dean pointed his beer at Sam. "And you're doing a great job of it."
He sneered as best as he could but it didn't seem to have much of an effect.
"I didn't mean that-" Cas frowned and set his beer on the table, loosening his tie and shifting uncomfortably. "Nick didn't handle things well, and when you said that Sam was fine it was just difficult to trust in your optimism." His frown softened a little as he turned back to Sam. "I'm just glad to hear that you're doing better than he is."
"Better than he is?" Sam almost laughed.
Unfortunately a month is more than enough time for even the simplest facts, and most honest feelings to grow corrupt, and twisted and misunderstood.
A month was long enough that Sam's bitterness at being cheated on and then just sort of forgotten had kind of turned into occasionally very aggressive and violent thoughts tinged with a great deal of resentment- but it wasn't an all the time thing. Not even an everyday thing. Just… you know, times like this, when people felt a need to bring up the fact that he'd fallen in love with a straight man who hadn't really given two damns about him once the novelty had worn off.
And Sam wasn't depressed.
He wasn't ruined.
He'd never date another guy, sure, but he'd never really liked men in the first place… just Nick.
And he still did.
Still missed him so much it hurt sometimes- but in the end that only lead right back around to those strong feelings of resentment.
How dare Nick just roll into Sam's life, rough everything up, confuse the hell out of Sam's sexuality, and then leave.
"Last I heard he was just fine." Sam managed to say in a clipped tone. "He didn't seem to me like he was all that broken up about it." And he didn't know how much Castiel knew about everything that happened. Possible very little on account of the fact that Sam hadn't told Dean anything other than it was over- so in all likelihood there hadn't been anyone to give a full report on the whole thing. "We had a fight after we left your niece's christening-"
"Communion." Came the easy correction which Sam shrugged off.
"Whatever. We had a fight. I apologized and he never called me back, so I went to go talk to him and this… this naked woman answered the door and told me I could come keep her company until Nick got out of the shower."
"Was she hot?" Was all that Dean took out of that one.
"Nick… didn't mention …that you'd come over." Castiel said haltingly.
"I didn't wait around for him to get out." Sam did not care for the current feelings he was having. "He wasn't exactly sitting around missing me, and I realized that I didn't have anything else to say to him."
Nick's baby brother wore a confused, aggravated look. "When was this?"
" 'bout two weeks after the fight."
And Cas was shaking his head, angry disbelief all over him, like he refused to accept that his brother was capable of such actions. "Nick would have just gotten home… he wouldn't have been up to…" his eyes narrowed suddenly. "Did the woman look like a corporate prostitute?"
Sam let out a startled, bark of a laugh. Very confused and not sure that he'd heard any of that right. The words certainly didn't make an ounce of sense. "Can you say that again?"
The disbelieving noise that Dean made conveyed a similar level of stunned confusion.
"Did she look like a whore, but one that you still couldn't afford even if you are making six figures a year?" He let out a frustrated breath when Sam didn't answer. "About as tall as Dean, very blonde, very blue eyed, tan, fit, very… arian with distractingly perky breasts and no shame whatsoever."
"Yeah?" Sam answered hesitantly, not sure if this is knowledge he was willing to admit to having.
"Dude," Dean kind of laughed. "Distracting breasts? I thought you were… you know." And he made unsteady motions with one hand.
Castiel rolled his eyes. "Just because I am not sexually attracted to women does not mean that I cannot be sidetracked from time to time when a new set of breasts are paraded in front of me."
A bit of good natured something or other went on between the men on the couch, laughing and a bit of name calling from Dean- and Sam was left alone with his unpleasant thoughts.
"Hey, hey." His brother was snapping his fingers in front of Sam's face, suddenly noticing what was happening. "Don't. Don't do that. What does it matter if he had some chick over?" Dean demanded of the room, not really waiting for an answer. "He's an ex now. You're free, Sam, and better off without the bastard. We never should have set you two up to begin with."
And at least one part of that was a lie. This right here, right now- this weirdly wounded feeling in Sam was sure as hell not 'better'.
"She was not some chick." Castiel said like it should have been a comfort. "That was Nick's ex-wife. She came to town a while back to drop of their daughter."
That was Lilith?
Sure.
Of course she was.
Why wouldn't the mostly naked, gorgeous woman in Nick's apartment be his ex-wife?
God, Sam wanted to just pull the floor up over his head and pretend that no one had ever brought it up. He wasn't even sure how they got here.
Well… if nothing else, it sort of leaned towards an explanation why Nick had been covertly stressed in the weeks leading up to their fight.
It did not however start to explain why Nick's former wife had been naked in his apartment first thing in the morning. But from what little Sam had come to realize that he knew about the man- was that Nick wanted any excuse to do anything he could for his daughter.
And you know, it wasn't really Sam's place to draw a line for such actions.
Technically he'd still been Nick's boyfriend at the time it'd happened, sure- but it didn't seem to matter all that much to anyone other than Sam.
"Is June staying with Nick now?" He heard himself asking, throat feeling tight.
Castiel lit up for a second, the smile on his face startling and unprecedented. "She is. She has her mother's looks and her father's attitude and I'm not sure how Nick's going to survive. The two of them arguing is… it makes me very happy even though it shouldn't."
Sam smiled but it hurt in a weird way and he couldn't keep it up for long.
It must have all been a bit too obvious.
Castiel tilted his head like he was listening to something far away. "They are good for each other I think. And she's been a real help since the accident. It's nice to know that someone is keeping an eye on him since… since you're not anymore."
"What accident?" Sam had missed something.
Castiel easily took in Sam's blankly confused expression before slowly turning to look at Dean, eyebrows drawing low in something close to anger. It was actually a bit scary. "You …didn't tell him about the accident."
Dean wet his lips and straightened his back, looking ready for a fight. "No I didn't. Because he didn't need to know about it."
"What accident?" And Sam didn't know when he'd rocked forward on his knees, halfway to standing, this horrible feeling suddenly sinking heavy in his gut.
"He wrecked his bike." With a sidelong glare of annoyance at Dean, Cas explained with four simple words that shouldn't have been able to hold the kind of weight that they did. "He was driving home drunk and crashed headlong into a minivan."
"What?"
"A minivan. They are just smaller versions of normal vans." He drew his hands close together to emphasize the tininess. "You see them on the road all the time with those little stick figure families on the back windows."
"I-I know what a minivan is." Sam forcibly uncurled fists that he didn't remember making. "Is Nick ok?"
"Yes." Castiel treated him to a tight lipped little frown. "He's back at work, and his leg is doing much better."
"When did it happen?"
Cas started to answer but Dean elbowed him in the ribs and the man looked morally injured. "That was not necessary, Dean."
"What's not necessary is making Sam feel guilty for something he had nothing to do with."
"I was not about to blame your brother for Nick's stupidity. He always drinks too much- and he drinks more than too much on bad days. I can only assume that breaking up with Sam counted as an exceptionally bad day."
And the implication was there, glaring and deep and it went right through Sam. What a fantastically painful new feeling that he didn't know he could manage with such ease.
"How bad was it?"
"See," Dean gestured broadly at his brother while still looking at the man beside him. "This is why I didn't tell him about it. Now he's gunna get all guilty- even though it's not his fault that your asshole of a brother picked a fight with him then went off and got drunk and wrecked his bike."
"I never said it was Sam's fault."
"Yeah well," Dean looked over at Sam with that all knowing, harshly judgemental expression that he could pull off so well. "Sammy, you wanna tell the class how you're feeling right now?"
Sam offered up his best bitch-face and pulled the top off his beer with an angry twist.
He hated that Dean could read him so easily.
Like an open book with large print.
"See, there he goes on his own personal guilt trip."
"Fuck you," Sam grumbled under his breath, because he didn't need this right now.
"I miss Jess." Dean shot back before hauling himself to his feet and heading into the kitchen. "At least she was cute. And you weren't nearly as much of a bitch when she left."
Sam would have thrown something at Dean, but the only thing he had in arm's reach was pizza and beer, neither of which would have been fun to clean up afterwards.
It wasn't all guilt that was currently dragging him under. There was some obvious fury in there too.
That counted for something, right?
He glanced back over at Cas, lowering his voice in hopes of not being overheard, because he really wasn't interested in more ridicule from Dean at the moment. "Is he ok?"
"…is ...Dean ok?"
"Nick. Is Nick ok?"
"Oh…" Cas bit his lip in a small gesture far too reminiscent to his big brother. "He spent a few weeks in the hospital. Most of the stitches have come out since then, but the pins in his leg will have to stay, and he will have to keep the cast for a while longer. I don't think he's keeping up with his physical therapy, but he's always been pretty stubborn about that kind of thing."
"I…" Sam felt sick.
"He would have been drinking even if you two hadn't had a fight." Castiel said simply, seeming to have borrowed some of those mind reading powers from Dean. "Lilith is getting remarried. Might have already done it, I don't know and I don't care. I never spent that much time with her, but I feel comfortable in saying that she is evil incarnate, and I feel bad for whatever man she's managed to get her meat hooks into this time.
"Nick never does well when she gets in contact with him and she'd been calling him fairly often from what I understand. There was something about moving overseas and needing both parent's signatures for June's passport. At least that's what I got out of Gabriel. And we were all surprised at how well Nick looked at Sarah's communion. No one expected him to be holding it together so well… but I guess he wasn't really. He's just gotten that much better at lying to us."
These were all words that were all probably meant to bring Sam comfort, to keep him from packing his bags for a long guilt trip, but they had quite the opposite effect.
Sam did the only thing that he could think of. He stood and collected his textbooks.
"I'm sorry, Sam."
He looked over, question on his lips, but he couldn't seem to find words that could make it past the tightness in his throat.
"For setting you up with my brother. He's… not always a good man and I don't think any of us expected things between you two to go as far or as badly as they obviously did. I 'm glad to know that you're doing alright though." Cas lowered his voice to a dead whisper, keeping the next part just between the two of them. "I know lots of things probably didn't quite go as you two planned, and I'm sorry if I, or my bad advice, helped to push either of you into something that obviously was never meant to be." Because Cas was the only person outside of the agreement between Sam and Nick who knew about the original plan. It was nice to know that he felt just as bad about it as everyone else involved.
"Yeah." And Sam wanted to add on something after that, but really it was a miracle that he'd found that single word to start.
He got himself upstairs, books under one arm, beer in hand, and he wasn't sure how long he just stood there leaning against his door, staring vacantly at his tidy little bed and well organized desk.
Castiel wasn't the only person who regretted that blind date back in November and it was almost some weird kind of relief that it was for the same reason.
Maybe Nick wasn't always a good man. Sam had heard as much a few times over- but he'd never actually experienced it first hand.
All he'd ever come to know was a shockingly gentle, reserved man hiding behind a lot of gruffness and salty language. He was like someone's abandoned old teddy bear. A bit grubby and not necessarily appealing at first glance. Bleary eyes and rough lines and… and even if it had only been for a couple of weeks, and even if it hadn't been entirely true, he'd said that he loved Sam.
Next thing he knew he was clumsily setting his suddenly empty beer bottle down on the little table beside his bed, and fumbling his phone from a pocket.
Two rings in and a young girl's voice answered the uneasy phone call with a cheery, "Hello?"
Sam blinked rapidly, his brain making the quick connection and figuring out who he was talking to. "Hi there."
"Are you calling to talk to Papa?" This had to be June, and June had to be almost nine or ten from the math that Sam had done. Too old to be using a name like 'papa', but that only made it that much more fantastic to hear, a little splash of sweetness in the easy rise and fall of her young, preteen sass laden voice.
Sam's chest hurt. "Yeah. Is he there?"
"No." She said simply with no elaboration.
And Sam… had almost no practice talking with kids, but he had a feeling that he wasn't going to have the knack for it.
"Can you tell him to call Sam when he gets back?"
"The phone says your name is Darlin'."
Wow. Another thing that actually made him feel worse, when here he thought he was already scraping bottom of the barrel with that particular emotion.
Awesome.
"It's… Sam."
"Uncle Gabriel told me not to let anyone named Sam talk to Papa if he called."
Which sounded completely unfair.
"But Uncle Gabriel is deranged." June informed him rather simply. "So … right now I'm getting ready for my violin lesson and Papa will be at his studio for about an hour until it's time to pick me up. You should go tell him you want to talk to him."
"…what?"
"You're his boyfriend, right? Or is that another guy named Sam?"
"um…well we were-"
"I saw a picture at Papa's work of you guys kissing. He told me you that broke up with him. But you looked like a kind of guy who's too nice to break up with people- even if they're old and grumpy."
Sam found himself rather speechless.
"Uncle Cassy told me you're really, really nice and you and Papa used to be in love."
"We… we were." He agreed uneasily, sort of wincing at the bluntness of it all. "You talk to your uncles about a lot of things, don't you?"
"I am a nosy brat." She sounded like she was grinning, bright and happy. "I have a lot of questions about this side of my family. They keep giving me answers so I keep asking."
And Sam noticed that his hand was shaking just a bit as he rubbed at his mouth. This wasn't going how he expected, but then again, what did he think was going to happen?
"Are... you going to tell your dad I called?"
"Oh no." She whined. "You're not one of those really pretty, but really stupid guys, are you?"
"No?"
"Then why are you still on the phone with some kid when you should be going down to the studio and talking to my papa? He won't be there all night."
As enticing of an invitation as that was. "He doesn't want to see me."
She got quiet before letting out a long sigh. "Look, Sam, I'm only nine and three quarters, but I know a lot about dating. I went out with Tyler Samuels for twenty-three days, so I know that boys get lonely when you leave them alone for too long. That's why I had to punch him in the stomach- because he cheated on me with Kaitlyn Baird when I went to my grandma's for a weekend. But it's not his fault. Most men just can't handle being alone. They aren't independent and strong like us women are."
Sam blinked at his phone, somewhat stunned by the rush of irrelevant information that she had just rambled off at him. If there was something in there that he needed, it was as good as lost, because Sam definitely didn't have the skills needed to understand what was going on.
"And Papa is a lot stronger than stupid Tyler- but he's lonely too. I can tell." She sighed softly. "Uncle Cassy said you made Papa really happy."
"And what did Gabriel say?" The brief phone call that he'd had with the man weeks back had kind of cemented their relationship, but Sam was still curious.
"He said that you broke Papa's heart and that if you called or came over I should send you away so you don't make it worse. But you didn't really, did you? I mean because he still has your picture at his work, and I've seen drawings of you in his book- you don't do stuff like that if someone breaks your heart. You know, I didn't keep pictures of Tyler after I broke up with him- and I wasn't even that sad about it. He was a tool." She took a measured breath. "But you're not a tool, right?"
Sam honestly had no idea what was even going on. His phone had turned into a fast talking advice dispenser that kept getting side tracked.
A bit of a headache starting between his eyes. "So... your dad will be at work for another hour?"
"Not at work. God. He's at his studio." She said in an exasperated voice that really let Sam know that she believed he was one of those tragically stupid, but beautiful men.
"He has a studio?"
"Well, yeah. He can't paint at home. He says his current body of work has themes that are too suggestive for someone my age." She quoted in very bad impersonation of Nick's grumpy tone. "But I saw some of them, and he's just painting people. Like, they aren't even all the way naked so I don't know what the big deal is.
"Anyways, it's time for my lesson. I have to go- but I'm going to be real disappointed in you if you don't go kiss my papa and stay over and make us breakfast tomorrow." She then proceeded to hang up on Sam, who was left standing there numbly until the laughter that had been building in his chest came tumbling out.
Once he calmed down, an odd tickle still in his stomach, and tears stinging the corners of his eyes, he realized that he was broken. Half hysterical and honestly at the end of feeling this way. He hadn't been enjoying it. Not by far. He couldn't keep up this kind of momentum.
It all felt clearer somehow. The world spinning out of his control and this whole time Sam misinterpreting it and just getting more and more angry.
He told me you that broke up with him.
They really were both idiots who deserved each other, weren't they?
But it's not like Sam had had all that much practice at this kind of thing.
There had only ever been one other person, and Jess… when she left he'd missed her in gentle ways that had faded quickly to a dull ache that happens any time a friend moves on and doesn't take you with them.
But with Nick?
Sam was still angry. Sure. Angry and hurt and he just… he just… he really missed Nick's stupid face and his laugh and his rough hands and his tender mouth.
He'd loved Jess like a friend, and from time to time he'd thought of her in ways that were a little more than friendly.
But Sam was in love with Nick.
It was a different beast altogether.
One that was not going to leave him.
Because love isn't soft like some people say. Love has teeth that bite, and leaves wounds that never close.
He grabbed his jacket and came back downstairs to find that Castiel was still here, unmoved from his corner of the couch, though Dean had returned to him, arm along the back of the high cushions, hand dangling somewhere near the back of his friend's neck.
Sam managed to summon up some instant disdain for them and their repressed, happy relationship- but he pushed it aside. "Cas, what's the address of Nick's studio?"
"No!" Dean let his head fall back with a pained groan. "No. This is why I wasn't telling him about the accident, Cas. He's got a martyr complex wider than the Pacific. And we were doing so good. We were free. We were… happy-ish. He was done being homo for your son of a bitch brother. It was great."
"Shut up, Dean." Sam grabbed the car keys off the table beside the door.
"I…" Castiel leaned forward, looking uncertain. "I'm not supposed to know where it is. He likes to be alone when he paints."
Alone.
And Sam supposed that there had never been any traces of the hobby laying around Nick's apartment while they'd been dating. Sam honestly didn't think he could even remember seeing Nick so much as doodle. In fact… Sam had never even seen any of the tattoos that the man had done over the years he'd been working.
Sam held the keys a little tighter and decided that he wasn't going to dwell on this one more gaping hole from their broken relationship. "Cas?"
The accountant looked divided. Somewhere between loyalty to his big brother and a want to try and fix things. Sam knew that look all too well. Dean got the same one- not right now mind you, but at other times. Like months ago when this whole mess started. Dean had learned his lesson though.
Castiel still hadn't.
He reluctantly gave the address, talking over Dean's protests and shouts of "don't come home crying to me, Sammy. This is fucking stupid and you know it. And you better bring my car back with a full tank, or I swear-"
"I'm not asking for permission- but I'd like a little support." Sam cut him off.
"Nothing's changed between the past couple months and the last few minutes." Dean tried to remind him. "What the fuck do you think is going to happen if you go to him? He doesn't want you, Sammy. Weird as that must be for you, you're going to have to accept it."
Knowing that Nick might simply not want him anymore, and finding out that other people had arrived at the same conclusion was a painful step in the wrong direction.
"I just need some god damned closure, Dean." He needed to hear Nick acutlaly say it. Otherwise it didn't count. Otherwise it was just all kinds of self doubt and uncertainty with very little grounds for the claim.
"You just wanna go and feel guilty." He accused. "You weren't the one to wreck his bike. You had nothing to do with it."
"Dean-"
"This is stupid and you know it."
And he wasn't wrong.
Sam had a leaded feeling in his gut that this wasn't going to end well for him. But he still got his shoes on.
All he really had to go on in this moment was that apparently the two of them had spent a quarter of a year secretly wanting to tear each other's clothes off but both lacked the self confidence or bravery to ever even bring it up. It didn't feel like too much of a stretch to think that they'd managed to somehow do it again.
And all Sam had to do was try and ignore the fact that if Nick had wanted anything more to do with him he could have called or come over at any point. It's not like Sam had moved house or changed his number.
But Nick apparently still had the pictures of them from San Francisco.
And Sam had been given the pep talk of a lifetime from a little girl.
So Sam went.
It's not like he had anything to lose at this point.