Author's notes: As IF he'd hurt Sam. Come on, guys! You know me better than that by now…also, got some inspiration and couldn't help but draft up yet another chapter...aaaaaand it might just be possible this isn't going to be a solo story after all...
It was the stuff of nightmares. Soap suds and water everywhere. Slobber coating Sam's mouth, while he struggled against the death breath of Nanook and his back tooth that still needed to be pulled. He'd only left the husky with them for a couple of months to look after him, and the dog acted as if he'd gone to China for a solid year or more.
"Nanook!" Sam gasped, shoving at the dog's face, "stop!" He couldn't help but laugh as Nanook continued to whine and pant, licking and nuzzling him until Lucy finally made it to the porch, gasping as she clutched at her side and leaned against the railing, shaking her head.
"Sam, I thought you weren't going to be back until August," she finally managed to say, "what made you cut your trip short so early? Oh god, please tell me you aren't missing a toe or..." Her eyes widened as her imagination ran wild and Sam climbed out at long last from beneath his sopping wet best friend.
"No, it's not that," he told her with a slight laugh, rubbing behind Nanook's ears. He glanced over at the hose and then back at Lucy, "you're bathing him outside?"
"Well of course I am!" She continued to pant, "can't you smell the skunk on him?"
Sam wrinkled his nose, and sighed, looking down at the guilty-looking husky. "Again? Seriously?" He wondered why he hadn't noticed the pungent odor before wafting in the air as he tried to grip at the slippery scruff of his dog's neck, "you go inside, mom. I'll finish back here...you know it's not going to get rid of the smell, right?"
"I was filling the baby pool, and I'd just lathered him up when I was going to put him in it," she explained, pointing towards the side of the house, "he just decided to make a mess of it before I could finish," Lucy went on. And as much as Nanook stunk up the whole yard, he was a little grateful to have a dumb distraction like this for a few minutes. Before he had to go inside, take a quick nap, and break the real news to everyone.
"Where's Mike?" He asked before Lucy began to wipe the water off on her apron. She looked up at him with a sad half-smile, "he's in my room. We just finished blacking out the window last weekend so he could get a good long nap before you showed up today. Didn't want to risk you leaving town without seeing him," she explained.
"Why would he think…" Sam shook his head, "right, okay…"
"He thinks you're still afraid of him," she said sadly and pulled open the door.
Sam didn't reply, a little ashamed of himself as he led Nanook away. Okay, so maybe sometimes he let his nerves get the better of him sometimes around his brother during the day, but it wasn't like he didn't have a good reason. Whenever grandpa ran low on...that...Mike got a little scary. Things were going to be a lot different, now, though. Being on the other side of things and all…
"You're smart, why do you keep acting so dumb? You know those rats with perms don't like playing…" Sam scolded his husky as he led him towards his baby pool of certain doom.
Edgar Frog leaned his freshly-finished board down against the back of his trailer to dry, dusting foam and flecks of thin white dust off of his hands. It had been a week now since he'd heard from Sam, about three since he'd heard from his own brother, and he was already beginning to regret not going on that last hunt with them. A den off the border near Texas they'd heard about, routine scum-sucking extermination. Well, not really routine...more like they were finally going to put one of their many practice drills into action…
But then he'd caught a bad case of Chicken Pox out of the blue, and he hadn't been able to go. The damned doctors wouldn't even let him check out of the hospital, because apparently bed rest and medical treatment were more important than cleansing the world of soulless bloodsucking monsters bent on world domination!
Trying to explain that had only convinced him he needed to stay an extra day, and Alan and Sam decided they couldn't wait much longer. Plus, they thought he'd be a liability. Never mind the fact that having the Chicken Pox would probably make him an even more primed hunter, he tried to reason. After all, nobody wants a meal with itchy rashes all over it...even vampires had to have standards.
He slammed open his door and stomped back inside the trailer, shaking and rocking it in the process as he lumbered to the kitchen to make himself a fresh batch of garlic juice and eggs. Much more of this, and he'd have to get in his car to track both of those jerks down himself to make sure they hadn't gotten themselves into any serious trouble. Edgar was, after all, the leader of the monster bashing crew. They were lost without him.
Grandpa Emerson peeked through the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of Sam's car outside, untouched. "That boy's been out there for damn near two hours now. Dog can't be that dirty," he grunted, picking up a soapy dish on his side of the sink and rinsing it off to set it on the dish rack beside him while Lucy stood on her side scrubbing another.
"Well, they're probably just bonding. You know how much he loves that dog," Lucy replied, taking a scouring pad to a very crusty pot, "and how many times do I have to tell you to rinse your dishes in the morning when you eat grits?" She scolded him lightly, nearly cracking a nail in the process trying to work away the pasted-on gunk.
"I'm gonna go check on him," the old man decided, shaking flecks of water off of his hands and stomping towards the door.
Lucy gave him a slight frown, knowing full well it was just an excuse to get away from dish duty, but letting him go. He'd spent the best years of his life raising her, she supposed the least she could do was let him skip dishwashing once in awhile in his own house.
What he found outside was not in fact a Hallmark scene of a young man bonding with his aged furry friend, but what more resembled a very poorly-staged death scene, in that he was slumped forward in the overflowing baby pool with his head submerged in the water while Nook splashed about him trying to nudge him out.
"Sam, you dumb-" Grandpa Emerson grunted, running forward to pull his youngest grandson out of the baby pull.
The blonde sat up with a gasp, wiping water from his face, coughing, "whoa..so...fell asleep there," he sputtered weakly, shaking his head.
"Boy, what in the sam hill…" the old man demanded, slapping Sam's face and squeezing his chin, "you lose your mind? What made you think taking a nap in a baby pool was a good damned idea?"
"I wasn't trying to!" He defended, slowly climbing to his feet on wobbly legs, and covering his mouth with a yawn, smiling sheepishly, "just...real tired. Been driving a lot…"
"You get your ass inside and get yourself cleaned up. You think I want to show up in the kitchen, tell your ma you killed yourself in a plastic tub out back?!" He didn't find this in the least bit funny, "and wipe that stupid smile off your face right now, damn it."
"I'm twenty-one, grandpa," Sam defended sleepily, "I'm a vampire hunt-"
"You keep your lip shut and get inside." He shook his head, "I thought you was smarter than this. Don't know what I was thinking…" he shook his head, exasperated. "Need a god damned root beer now, thanks to you…" he grumbled, crossing towards the water spout to turn off the hose. Meanwhile, Nanook padded through the grass, immensely relieved Sam hadn't drowned himself in his bath. The guilt would have likely crushed the poor old husky.
The most awkward thing about a living room without a tv, is that you really do notice things more. Especially sounds. You notice the house settling, and the way a person's clothing seems to whisper as they shift in their seat, and every single paper crinkle of a page turning in someone's trashy novel or magazine. You notice the slight flicker of the overhead light, and the way the air conditioner sometimes grunts as it kicks on to continue cooling the house down.
In short, for Michael, seated on the couch beside his mother and brother, across from his grandpa in his over-stuffed easy chair, he felt like this surely had to be the longest five minutes he'd ever had to endure. Longer than last fall when Sam had confessed he was dropping out of college to be a freelance photographer, or the following Spring when he confessed again that he was actually planning to hunt down vampires...no, these unbearably quiet living room scenes were rarely ever good.
But, at least...he wasn't the focus of everyone's attention. Grandpa couldn't make gruff remarks about the fact that he should be losing a bit of his hair by now, if he was anything like the rest of the men in their family, or some other little uncomfortable fact that reminded him time and again he had a lot of other things to worry about than just his 'sports drinks'.
Michael leaned forward, propping his elbow up on the side of the couch and nodding to Sam, "you going to come out with it, or what? I've got to get some work done tomorrow, y'know." If he expected any cash that week, he still had to catch up on some sadly-neglected car engines. Stalling during his good hours wasn't going to help him much. Not that he wasn't happy to see his little brother, he just wanted to keep paying rent for his dingy little one-bedroom apartment. The only thing he had to make him feel as if he actually was getting older, and Michael wasn't too keen on losing it.
Sam took a deep breath, leaning down to scratch behind Nanook's ears as the husky cuddled up around his feet. "Mom...I'm about to tell you guys something, and you gotta promise me you're not going to freak out."
"It can't be any worse than anything else we've been through, honey, just please tell me already. Are you engaged? Did you get a ticket?" Lucy paused, putting a hand on his, "Sam, if you're gay...it's okay. I know."
"WHAT?!" Sam yelped, "mom, I'm not...NO, no. No. A couple of weeks ago, me and Alan were in some caves down in Texas, and one thing led to another…"
"Oh lord," Lucy gasped, pressing her hands to her face and sobbing, "that poor boy! He's dead?!"
"Yes. No. Sort of…" Sam trailed off, "deader than me, but not deader than those assholes Mike screwed around with back in high school-"
"Shut up, Sam," Michael rolled his eyes.
"Michael. Sam." Lucy glared between them both and then looked back at her youngest with a concerned expression, "I think I know what you mean. You don't have to say it."
"It was going okay until about a week or so later, and then we kind of had a fight…" Sam kept going on, and Michael's eyebrows shot up. There was more...of course there had to be. He leaned a bit closer to him, sniffing at the air slightly and frowning. "Welcome to the club," he sighed, putting a reassuring hand on Lucy's shoulder, just in case she had a panic attack. Which she, of course, did.
"Mom, mom, please…" Sam jumped up just as Lucy rushed across the room, pacing and sobbing, while the old man sat back in his chair and silently watched.
"It's not that bad, mom," Sam went on. "I'll just do what Mike does, and everything will be fine, I'll just get a bit of blood from gramps here and there, get a night job, and-"
Michael punched his shoulder and shook his head quickly, mouthing the words, 'stop talking. You're making it worse.'