Thanks for the kind reviews I can't begin to tell you how much they are appreciated. I would have had this chapter up sooner but a close friend suffered a tragedy which put any plans I had of writing on the back burner for a couple of days.
Stanford and Sam - Chapter 3
Sam felt a twinge of hope which he didn't want to acknowledge. It was Christmas Eve after all, was it really so weird to want to see your brother, or your father. Sitting out here in the dark wouldn't be a completely un-Winchester thing to do either, Sam thought, especially when said father or brother might be uncertain of their welcome. As he moved down the steps towards the figure, Sam saw John in his mind's eye. The way his father's smile would break without warning across a usually serious and sombre face, like the sun peeking its head from behind the clouds after a storm. Sam could almost see his dad stepping from the shadows, spreading his arms wide to wrap Sam in an embrace which still translated into warmth and protection no matter how grown up Sam was. Heck, maybe whilst John's face was pressed into Sam's hair he'd even whisper the word 'proud' into his son's ear.
His defences down, Sam moved towards the figure, feeling an involuntary smile turning up the corners of his mouth. The smile vanished when the figure sat, crouched, in the shadows let out a low guttural growl. Hope smashed to a thousand pieces only to be replaced with dread which hit like a bitter punch to the gut. Sam was armed, he always was armed one way or another, this time however he only had a small steel throwing knife tucked into the back of his jeans. His gun, complete with several rounds of silver bullets, was stuck in the bottom of the bag he was carrying. He hadn't exactly anticipated the hunt coming to find him. Sam's tongue licked over his dry lips slowly as he realised the mistake could cost him dearly.
Sam had never seen a werewolf before. He'd read a hell of a lot about them and had the fine details of the werewolf kill Dean made when he was fourteen and a ten year old Sam was being babysat at Pastor Jims pretty much stamped on his brain but the sight of this werewolf now, the meagre light from the streetlamps reflecting off its glassy predator eyes, made Sam cold right down to his boots.
If anything Sam had expected more fur and definitely not for any human features to be so clearly recognisable after the transformation. As the creature advanced forwards so that it was fully exposed by the yellow pools of streetlight, Sam knew that his hunch on the identity of the werewolf had been exactly right. Tony growled for a second time, his lips rising to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth. Sam fought a strange 'Dean like' urge to snigger when he saw that Tony was still dressed in his Starbucks uniform, albeit it was somewhat ripped to shreds but the logo was plenty noticeable. It had never struck Sam before whether or not the human side of the werewolf was aware of what was happening, as far as his father had been concerned the only instructions had been to shoot a werewolf not psychoanalysis the damn thing. Tony had tracked Jessica down or perhaps he'd not come for Jessica, not yet anyway. Perhaps he'd come to take Sam out first, remove the rival so to speak. Whatever, it still seemed calculated Sam thought, and if he didn't do something fast he was going to end up dog food.
Years of training kicked into play as Sam's hand flew to yank his knife from the back of his jeans. With practiced aim, he threw the knife before leaping the last few steps and taking off in a run praying to God his throw had found its target. Whilst it wouldn't cause much damage, it would at least serve the purpose of giving him something of a head start. Sparing a fleeting glance over his shoulder, he could see Tony had already recovered from the hit and was racing after Sam, running so swiftly that even Sam's long legs couldn't outpace the thing for very long. Sam headed for the park; he couldn't risk bumping into any civilians. Although it was late the chances of running into groups of students drunk on Christmas spirit and cheap cider was pretty high. Sam panted as he neared the park and took shelter in amongst the trees. He dropped his bag to the ground and dove into it, scrabbling to get to his gun.
He heard Tony snarl as vicious pointed claws swiped, tearing into the tender flesh of Sam's arm. Warm blood poured, instantly making his skin sticky and uncomfortably damp. Sam fell backwards hard, his head connecting with a rock and his vision did the shimmy as he struggled to raise his gun with a shaky hand. More animal than human Tony moved effortlessly on all fours until he was leaning over Sam, savouring the moment. Hot breath hit Sam's face whilst drool dripped from Tony's teeth splashing onto Sam's cheek. Sam pushed the barrel of his gun against Tony's chest and screwed his eyes closed tight, wondering whether it'd be his shot or Tony's killing blow which would strike first.
Sam fired. The blast was at such close range that for a moment his ears were ringing. It took another moment for Sam to release he was still breathing. Sam prised his eyes open grudgingly. The blow to the back of his head had made him nauseous and as he saw Tony's body, a hole in his chest gaping, Sam rolled onto his side and vomited. Falling back onto the soft earth, Sam lay there winded, staring at the sky. Stars twinkled down at him through the trees and he felt like weeping but closed his eyes again and bit down hard on his lip instead.
"SAMMY?" The voice was distant but comfortingly familiar.
Sam's eyes cracked open and he raised his pounding head. His heart hammering in his chest it took all of his restraint not to scream. "D-Dean! I'm here." Sam shouted, hating himself for how his voice cracked on his brother's name.
"Sammy?" Dean crashed through the trees. Fear for his little brother had conquered the emotional shield Dean carried and instead Dean's face wore a look of pained desperation as plain as day.
Sam let himself sink back, his eyes closing once more as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. He felt strong hands pulling him into a sitting position and he let his face rest on a shoulder which smelled of leather. Gentle fingers trailed the length of his spine, assessing for injury before moving up to touch the goose egg forming on the back of his head. Sam hissed, before burying himself further into the shoulder. His relief was palpable. Dean was here. "Thank God."
Sam hadn't meant to actually say it but Dean must have heard for there was a hitch in his breathing before his wit regained control. "Not God, just Dean...unless of course you meant Sex God?"
"How?" Sam couldn't seem to find the words to say more but Dean understood.
"We still check the newspapers; dad had it sussed as a werewolf so we came."
"For the werewolf?" Not for me? Sam's tone was incredulous but it was quickly swapped for hopefulness as he hadn't missed the 'we' part. "Is Dad here?"
"Oh yeah, he's in the car. Thought we might do a little family Christmas carolling, maybe even recreate a nativity scene...you could be Mary."
"Don't patronise me Dean."
Dean put a hand under Sam's chin, raising his brother's face so he could check his pupils. "Took a nasty blow there Sammy, what were you thinking, hunting alone?" Dean's gruffness had softened some.
Sam bit back the urge to say how he was alone now. "Where's dad?" Sam tried again.
"There's a malicious poltergeist case in Sacramento, I told him I'd got this one covered."
"He's on another hunt?" Sam couldn't hide his disappointment.
"That's what we do Sammy, hunt, save lives." Dean put his hands under Sam's arms and pulled him to standing before stepping away. Sam wobbled precariously and Dean quickly reached out again, putting an arm around Sam's waist and pulling Sam's arm over his shoulder. "Let's get you to the car okay, the first aid kit is in the glove box, I need to take a look at that cut."
"No I'm fine, just...just take me home."
Dean looked hurt. Months apart hadn't dampened his need to play big brother, Sam's protector. "I could take a look?"
"Dean, I'm fine. Anyway shouldn't you be helping dad, saving lives?" Sam hadn't meant to sound bitter.
"Huh! Well there's a werewolf corpse I've got to dispose of first or did you forget that? Maybe you've gotten a little sloppy from all the sitting around in libraries studying?"
Sam pulled himself away from Dean's grasp. "I don't know why the hell you came. I handled it just fine without you."
Dean's jaw clenched as he stood uncertainly. Sam staggered and Dean didn't hesitate then to resume his post at Sam's side, "I'm still your big brother." Dean said nearly inaudibly.
Sam didn't have a biting retort for that one.
They made their way to the Impala in silence. Sam sat in the passenger seat, Dean's seat, letting his eyes absorb the sight of the familiar interior which had been his only true home before he'd met Jessica. Now he had another home which was as far removed from the confines of the Impala as you could get. Soft comfort and snug warmth had taken the place of hard upholstered seats.
They drove and the silence was unrelenting. When they pulled to a halt outside Sam's apartment, Sam glanced over at Dean who had lent forwards, reaching into the glove box. "I said I'm fine, I can take care of the cut myself."
But Dean didn't pull out the first aid kit. Instead he pulled out an instantly recognizable tatty paperback which he held out to Sam.
Sam reached out hesitantly and took it. Gaping stupidly at it for what seemed like an eternity. "Dean..."
"Save it, stick it on a postcard or better yet you could just pick up a phone and call me. You know, when you're not too busy doing university stuff."
All bitterness had faded and Sam felt only profound love for his brother. Love which had never gone away, only been buried for awhile. "I will."
Sam climbed out, before leaning into the car to take a long look at Dean. "Tell dad I..."
Dean held up a hand "I know and he does love you Sam." Dean started the ignition. "Stay safe little brother, I can't keep nipping to Cali every time I think your ass needs saving."
Sam watched the Impala drive away. It wasn't until after he'd got back inside, closing the door behind him that he realised Dean hadn't needed directions to find his apartment.
-0-
One more chapter to go, returning to the shorts collection theme of Chapter One.