Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: I forgot to politely and respectfully request feedback in the first chapter. Remember, any sort of criticism is more than welcome, even flames.
Chapter 2: The Offer
Over the next two weeks, Sam tried to act normal as best as possible and found it got harder and harder as he went. He was only able to get an hour or two of sleep a night, with an almost constant cycle of responsibilities plaguing him every day. His broken rib seemed to be taking its sweet time in healing up, giving him shocking jolts of pain every time he moved his body wrong. It was just so damned hard to maintain his composure, when he was this tired and it all weighed so heavily on him.
Eventually, he was able to stop using the cane and got full use of his leg again. With that gone, it became much easier to do most things and he was able to get a lot more done in a day. Caring for Charlie took up a significant chunk of that time fortunately, seeing as how it was the only thing he really wanted to do. Somehow, in spite of all his issues he was actually good at this job, even better than catching escaped souls. As for the other aspects of his life, Sam could barely handle them with anything remotely resembling competence. Every chore, every responsibility, was a series of insurmountable obstacles. Underneath it all was that overwhelming fear, the kind that froze him solid like ice and stole his breath from him with shocking brutality. With each passing day, he was less and less able to get passed it. Sam could tell in some distant region of his being that he was headed directly toward a total mental breakdown. He often thought of his pending return to his hell-bound duties and got clammy in the hands and his heart would begin to race. There was no way –and of that he was certain –he was going to be able to handle putting himself in a life or death situation again.
Presently, Sam was just pulling into work from his latest doctor's visit where he got the news that it would be another week in the least before he would get the tape removed and get some more freedom of movement. He knew that even with the bandages gone, there might still be some more healing needed before he was back to one hundred percent. Sam doubted that the Devil was going to give him any extra time to do that, though. His boss could really be a harsh task master at times, piling shit on him without regards to his wellbeing or the other responsibilities he had.
He parked his car and walked inside, tying his work apron on as he did so. Sam clocked in and started in on his duties, trying not to think about Charlie and how he was doing. Ben was watching him for awhile until Sock got home from doing whatever the hell he was doing on his day off and then Ben was joining him at work. That wasn't going to happen for another two hours though and he had no one to talk to there. Andi also had the day off and was helping her mother with something.
Not even ten minutes into his shift, he was approached by a hesitant-looking Ted. The man coughed to get his attention, despite the fact that Sam was looking right at him as he was walking up. "Mr. Oliver, I'm glad to see you got here on time today. I was wondering about your injuries and if you can go back to regular duties yet."
Sam grimaced and shook his head, saying, "No, my doctor said that I had probably another week before I can get the bandages off and he wasn't very clear on if that meant that I would be well enough to go back to normal routines or not. I'll let you know after my next visit."
Ted, being more cordial than he had ever been to him before –probably due to his ever-present fear of a lawsuit –responded with, "very well then. I hope you get well soon and remember to keep taking it easy. I'll see you later Sam." With that, Ted turned around and walked away, leaving him alone for the time being.
A few hours later, he was in the midst of re-pricing items and had made it to the lighting center. Ben had shown up a little while ago and was busy handling a register. Sam took a moment to ask about Charlie just after he arrived, getting the usual 'he's doing fine' response for his troubles. Trying not to think about Charlie and how badly he wanted to get back to him, Sam busied himself with his work. He would end up never getting the full details of how the following catastrophe occurred, beyond the fact that it happened due to a chain-reaction of events that led to a disastrous finale.
A loud thunking sound followed by a sharp scream came from somewhere to his right, causing him to stop what he was doing and take a look. Sam didn't have enough time to spot the source of the noise before he heard another awful sound, this one coming from above him. Looking up, he saw that he was standing under an array of ceiling lamps and chandeliers positioned in a grid-like pattern. They were all attached to a lattice-work of steel bars, which was sagging down on one end. Sparks shot out of it and it started to fall. Dropping his pricing gun and raising his arms up to protect his face, he braced himself for the inevitable. He felt the rush of air around him as it fell, somehow not hitting him on the way down. It smashed into the floor loudly, shattered glass spraying his legs from all sides when it hit. Sam took a moment and then lowered his arms and opened his eyes.
The light grid had fallen to the floor and he was standing perfectly in the middle of one of the squares formed by the steel bars. He was shaking and breathless, looking out at the crowd of gawkers who were staring at him with equal intensity. More people came rushing around the corners all around him, Ben and Ted visible amongst them. Sam was running on autopilot after that, mechanically extricating himself from the tangled mess and just getting away from the whole scene. He told Ted he was taking a break and asked Ben for a few minutes to be alone. Rushing himself outside, he went to hide in a distant corner of the property and with shaky hands, pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one up. He sat himself down on the ground with his back leaning up against the side of an old recycling center, one that hadn't actually been used in years.
Tears were threatening to fall and he was finding it difficult to breathe anything other than cigarette smoke. This was so screwed up; why did things keep happening to and around him? Did God actually hate him? It seemed like such a ridiculous concept considering how He had apparently sent Steve to convince Tony to save him, but maybe Sam had misinterpreted God's intentions entirely. He merely could've been staving off his death only to spring something much worse on him later down the road. It was a bad path to go down, he knew, but was unable to bring himself out of that line of thought. There was little else he could think of to explain why so many bad things happened to him. The good and merciful Lord had abandoned him, his soul forfeit and unwanted. Sam sat there for a good while, long after his cigarette was smoked down to the butt.
That evening, Sam was home alone with Charlie, who had just been put to bed. He was out on the couch, using Ben's laptop to look online. The baby monitor was crackling softly to his right, keeping him comfortable in the knowledge that his little boy was safe. A part of him was amused at how domestic he was being, a deeper part of him was just grateful to have this opportunity.
He was online continuing his search for his mysterious godfather. John Winchester, having been narrowed down to one man, was a needle in an unbelievably massive haystack. There were very few mentions of him anywhere, beyond that initial newspaper article he found. It was going to be next to impossible to track this man down, if he was even still alive. The names of his two sons remained a mystery to him, as well. Sam decided that he needed to take this investigation to a new level. Normally, he didn't need to make extra arrangements when tracking a soul down, because they all had local connections to the Seattle area. This was different; this was a man from all the way across the country, whose only visible connection to Washington State was Sam's parents. He still refused to see his mother, uncertain if he would be able to contain himself in her presence, so that avenue was shut off from him.
The next thing to do was to check to see if he had any sort of criminal background on record. While he always exploited Josie for these purposes, this time he needed to go elsewhere. Sam knew there were websites that you could pay to get access to unsealed criminal records from all over the country. He was hoping that he could find something helpful in those archives, something that would steer him in the right direction. Finding a site, he went through the registration process and signed up for an account.
After getting through all that, he entered in all the relevant information he had and let the results load up. Exhaling deeply, he rubbed his face with his hand and cracked his neck. He found nothing for John Winchester, but he did find two hits in related matches. They were two brothers named Dean and Sam, both were listed as deceased. From what he could tell, deciding to ignore the grievous charges against them, they're ages listed roughly fit the ages of John's kids in the article. Moreover, the name of their father was listed as one John Winchester. A contact was also listed, by the name of Bobby Singer, who apparently resided somewhere in South Dakota. Both the address and the phone number were redacted, leaving him with no way to contact this man. Still, it was a new place to start from, a way for him to maybe make contact with his long lost godfather.
For the time being, he decided to stop searching for the night with the resolve to get back to it tomorrow. He figured that even if there was only one Bobby Singer in the entire state of South Dakota and his number was listed publicly, he doubted that it was a good time of night over there to be calling. Emailing all the information he had acquired tonight to himself, so he could copy it onto his computer later, he deleted all traces of what he was doing on Ben's computer as best he could and logged off. Sam put the laptop away and tried to watch television, finding himself too distracted to pay any real attention.
He was about to go out on the balcony and have another cigarette, a habit he was so ashamed of that he fought to keep it secret from his friends. It was when he was just standing up to do that, that Sam heard the tell-tale cry of Charlie waking up on the baby monitor. Sighing, he made his way to his room and checked in on the baby boy, who had managed to crawl up to the side of the crib and was in the middle of trying to stand up against the rails.
"Hey there, buddy. What's wrong?" he whispered softly, as he was reaching down to pick him up. Charlie merely wailed loudly again in response. "Shh," he hissed, hoping to get him to quiet down. He set the baby up against his shoulder and starting bouncing him up and down, while rubbing circles on his frail little back. The little boy clung to him with shocking strength and slowly began to calm down. "You don't need anything, no formula, no diaper?" He paused to check. "No, you just wanna be with me, don't you?" The baby gurgled contentedly. "I love you, little dude," he whispered so softly not even he heard it, before placing a tender kiss on the baby boy's crown.
When he could feel Charlie's breaths even out on the crook of his neck and his fingers unclenched their grip on his shirt, Sam gently and reverently laid him back down and made sure he was all situated. He left, whispering, "Goodnight. I'll be back in later to join you."
Sam closed the door as quietly as possible and crept back out to the living room. He went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, reaching in for a beer. He snagged one and made his way out to the balcony, grabbing his pack from his pocket as he did. Outside, the air was cool and refreshing on his skin and the view of the city was as beautiful as ever, of course. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and put it between his lips, before opening his beer and searching his pocket for a lighter.
A gold lighter was brought into view and the hand that held it was lighting it. "Need a light?" asked the Prince of Darkness.
Sighing, he craned his neck out to get the tip of his smoke in the flame and inhaled deeply. "What do you want?" he asked, hoping to get this over with.
"Just thought I'd join you for a smoke and a drink," he said, holding up an identical bottle of beer and a cigarette. "Do you mind if I have a seat?" he asked.
"Sure," he said, "why not?" Sam proceeded to take a seat and drink some of his own beer. He took a drag and exhaled, trying to ignore his companion.
They both sat there in silence, looking out over the nighttime cityscape of Seattle rather peacefully. Eventually, the Devil broke the silence. "Sammy, I feel I must apologize to you again, something that just doesn't really ever happen with me. I recognize that I was out of line the other week when I approached you on your date to talk to you; it was inappropriate of me to do that. It's just that I couldn't think of a better excuse to come see you."
"Why did you want to see me?" he asked, deciding to play along.
"Well, I understand that you've had a lot to deal with lately and I just wanted to see how you were doing."
"But instead you unnecessarily harassed me about returning to my duties," said Sam, not up to giving the ancient demon any quarter.
"Yeah, I didn't know what to say."
Sam scoffed at this. "You didn't know what to say?" he asked disbelievingly. "What does that even mean?"
"It means, and what I'm about to say is never to be repeated, that I have a place for you somewhere inside me. You know, where normal people keep their heart."
Sam laughed while shaking his head and took a swig of beer. "Do you ever stop with the B.S.?"
"Sometimes I do, like right now. I mean everything I'm saying, Sammy. I really do care about you." He paused to take his own drink and a drag of his cigarette. "And to that end, I've come with a proposal for you. I understand that it can be very difficult for you to balance your reaping duties with all your other responsibilities. Take your other job for instance: it barely pays the bills and sometimes has to take a backseat to soul-catching. If you didn't need it for the money, would you still work there?"
"I don't know, probably not. Where are you going with this?" he asked, taking another drag off his smoke.
"I was thinking that perhaps you've earned a reasonable stipend for your troubles." The Devil leaned back, looking at him expectantly.
For a moment, Sam was speechless. "Are you saying that you want to start paying me to catch escaped souls?" he said after finally collecting himself together.
"Yes, that about sums it up. I was thinking that I could pay you per soul, say… five grand?"
"Five thousand dollars for every escaped soul I capture!?" he said, almost spilling his beer in shock.
"Yeah, is that not enough?"
"I don't know what to say to that. I'm gonna have to think about it."
"What's there to think about?"
"I don't know. Is the money dirty?" Sam threw out, hoping his indecision would make sense.
"I'm not following you here, Sammy," said the Devil, appearing genuinely confused.
"Is it illegally acquired, or something like that?"
Satan laughed and said, "no, it's perfectly legal money. I'm not saying I got it from selling good wholesome products for reasonable prices, case in point:" he lifted up the remains of his cigarette and his beer in display. "Big Oil too, just so you know."
"Well, that's fine and everything, but I still need some time to think about it. No matter what you say about it, it's still pretty big for me. I fear how this will change the dynamic of everything and I don't know if I wanna change that. Please, just give me a couple days to think." Sam downed some beer and took one last puff of his cigarette, before putting it out.
"Very well, if you need some time, I'll give you some time. But remember: I really do care about you, even if you don't believe me."
"I do not believe you," said Sam, perhaps unnecessarily.
"Have a good night, kiddo," said the Devil, before getting up and heading inside.
Sam sat outside for a few more minutes, thinking about everything. He finished his beer and went back inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. Going over to the fridge, he looked inside for something to eat and found some leftover thai food that he had last night. Eating quickly, he went off to his room and crept back inside. Charlie was still sleeping away peacefully and he felt a little envious. Sam stripped down to his boxers and tried to get to sleep, his thoughts torn between his close call with death that day and the surprising offer from the Devil.
Sam awoke the next morning to the sound of Charlie waking up. The baby boy was making that odd chuffing sound that he associated with him in the morning. Getting up, he stumbled tiredly over to the crib and looked down. "Good morning Charlie. You ready to get up or you still need some time like me?" The baby started to cry and Sam said, "apparently not. Okay let's get up."
He picked the baby up and immediately discovered the source of his displeasure. "Oh," he said, "you need a change, don't you?" Sam changed his diaper and took the opportunity to throw some pants on for himself. Holding Charlie, he left his bedroom and made his way into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Sam," said Ben from his station at the breakfast bar.
"Morning," he replied. "Is there coffee?"
"Full pot; I just brewed it." Ben ate a spoonful of cereal.
"Thanks. You're awesome." Sam got a cup from the cabinet and poured himself some coffee, with Charlie balanced on his hip, all the while. Taking a careful sip of the hot liquid, he set Charlie in his high chair and made sure he was secured, before heading back into the kitchen to get everything together for breakfast. Getting Charlie's food first, he started to feed him. Fortunately, Charlie seemed to be in the eating mood and didn't give him much trouble through breakfast. Sam and Ben talked about a variety of topics, carefully avoiding any mention of Sam's incident the day before.
Eventually, Charlie refused to eat anymore and Sam put the jar of mashed vegetables back in the fridge. He made himself a bowl of cereal and a couple slices of toast, with a glass of orange juice to go with it. As he was sitting down, the sound of the front door being unlocked reverberated throughout the room. Sock crept in, not noticing them in his preoccupation to be quiet. When he turned around after making sure the door was completely shut, he absolutely jumped at the sight of two men and one baby staring at him. "Hi guys," he said. "Up late?"
"No Sock, we're up early. It's 6:45 in the morning; you've been out all night," said Ben.
"Oh," he said drunkenly, "that would explain the Sun then."
"I would hope it did," Sam chipped in.
"Well," prompted Ben, "please tell us how your night went."
"Oh Benji," said Sock, practically collapsing on the couch. "You totally shoulda been there at the Brickhouse. We were doin' jello shots for hours, then went over to the Mexican bar down the street when they kicked us out."
"Who's 'we'," asked Ben, stirring his spoon in the milk in his bowl.
"Oh, just these college chicks I met at the bar. They were lookin' for a real man and not some college dude."
"So when they failed at that, they found you?" asked Ben.
"Oh ha ha," said Sock, flailing his arms drunkenly to accentuate his words. "Hey Sammy," he called out suddenly, "how ya doin'?"
"Oh fine," he replied. "The Devil visited me last night."
This got their attention immediately. "What did he have to say?" Ben asked, dropping the spoon.
"Is it a new soul?" threw in Sock.
"No, nothing like that. He offered to start paying me to capture souls." Sam finished his toast and washed it down with some coffee.
"Woah, what!?" exclaimed Ben and Sock at the same time.
"Yeah," he said, looking down into his bowl of cocoa puffs. "He wants to pay me five grand a soul."
"Jesus, Sammy, that's incredible!" shouted Sock.
"He's right. We were averaging four souls a month for awhile there. I mean, you could make some serious money."
"Hey," interrupted Sock, "did he say anything about payin' me and Ben?"
"No, but I got the impression that the offer was only for me. You know, though, I'm not even sure if I'll take him up on it or not," said Sam.
Sock turned to Ben and said, "I'm too drunk to get up. Will you go punch him for me, Benji?"
Ben moved to stand up and replied, "I'm on it."
"Hey, come on guys," he said defensively. "I have reasons for it."
"Like what?" challenged Sock.
"Like I don't trust him as far as I can throw him and this has to be some sort of trick," replied Sam.
"I guess that makes sense, but you, no, we deserve money from him and now we have that chance," said Sock.
"I'll give it some thought, but I'm not sure if I want his dirty money. It feels like he's tempting me again." Sam shoveled down some of his cereal.
"I don't know, Sam. I think it's alright for you to accept hard-earned pay for a job well-done. There's nothing wrong with that," stated Ben.
"Benji's right," added Sock.
Pointedly swallowing his food, Sam responded. "Listen guys, I said I'll give it thought and I will. For now, can we drop this?"
"Fine," said Sock, "but this isn't over, Sammy. We will be talking about this again." He struggled for a moment to get up and finally managed to force himself to his feet.
"Great," said Sam, rolling his eyes, "I'm looking forward to it."
Sock stumbled off to his bedroom. "I'm gonna crash. Hold all my calls," he called out.
Ben got up as well and said, "I should probably get to work, soon. What're you up to today?"
"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking of taking Charlie out with me and, well that's about all I've got so far."
"Sounds like fun, Sam. I'll see you later. Bye little dude," he said, turning to Charlie, who looked back at him curiously. Ben grabbed his jacket and left, leaving a deep silence in his wake. Sam looked down at Charlie and said, "guess it's just us, buddy."
After breakfast, Sam had gotten himself and Charlie dressed and took the time to look up the name Bobby Singer online. There was only one listing shown. Calling the number listed, he eventually got an answering machine message. "Hello, Mr. Singer," he said after the beep, "my name is Sam Oliver and I'm calling about a John Winchester. I found some documents with his name on it in my birth records and I had just never heard of him before." After giving him his cell number, he finished with, "please give me a call back when you get this message. I just need to know about anything I can relating to my birth. Thank you and goodbye." Sam hung up and got Charlie and all the things he needed together for a day out.