Part 3
They took their time walking along the river, Emily slightly in the lead. The river was swollen with runoff from the recent rains, and Sam liked the way it sounded, bubbling and gurgling against the rocks. So much of his childhood had been spent in the back seat of the Impala or parked in front of a TV set in some crappy motel room, the light struggling to find its way through a filthy curtain.
This was better. This was how it should have been if he'd been born another kid, not a Winchester. Then Sam thought of Dean cleaning guns in the airtight cabin and was sorry. He wished he'd let Dean come along when he'd offered.
But Emily talked. She told him about her wirehaired terrier that lived to kill rabbits and hummingbirds, the tree house in a huge elm next to her family's house, and her mom's chocolate chip banana bread. She didn't talk about her dad, and Sam didn't ask. Not everybody had a dad who was easy to talk about.
They were going a lot further than he said he would. It wasn't like Sam to disobey a direct order—he usually argued about his dad's rules but did what he was told. They wanted to protect him. Sam knew that, but he was going to have to grow up sometime.
So he kept up with Emily, scrabbling over moss-covered boulders and gnarled roots of trees so big, he'd have given anything to climb them. Emily looked over at him, amused.
"Do you like to climb trees?" she asked, scuffing at the bark with the toe of her shoe.
"Only when something's gonna kill me if I don't," he said.
"I can teach you. I used to be good at it."
Everything was "used to be" for Emily. It hit him every now and then that her life was already over.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"What for?" Emily found a foothold and was reaching for an upper branch.
"That you didn't get to grow up. It's not fair."
"I never said I didn't grow up."
He was about to ask what she meant, but she'd found a branch to support her weight and said, "I see the lake. It's just over there."
"Is that where we're going?"
She shook her head. "Don't you ever pay attention?"
She sounded so much like his dad that Sam stared, but Emily had already jumped down and was sprinting through the trees toward the lake. He grinned. He'd always loved to run.
"I'll teach you how to skip stones," she called back as they ran. "I lived next to a reservoir. Most I ever got was fifteen skips, but I knew a boy who could get thirty."
"That's a lot," Sam said, panting. Unlike her, he had to catch his breath. He couldn't imagine that kind of life. Tree forts, summers by a lake… it sounded like everything he'd ever wanted.
They ran through a copse of trees, and it opened up onto a span of wide blue water, one of the prettiest things Sam had ever seen. He sat down on a large piece of driftwood, trying to catch his breath and wondering how much of his clothing he could take off in front of a girl ghost. He really wanted to swim.
Emily hunkered down and after some searching, chose a flat, gray pebble. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it skipping upon the glassy face of the water.
Impressed, he said, "That's pretty good," but when he tried it, his pebble kerplunked with a graceless splash.
"Pretty pathetic." Emily crouched down, fingering different stones. She finally held one out to him. "You don't want one with edges. Now bring your arm back like this."
She demonstrated, and he tried again, this time keeping the stone level. It skimmed the water, bouncing several times before slipping under the dark surface.
"Just like that. That's good. Get as many bounces as you can."
He tried again, and the next time was even better.
Emily grinned. "Not bad."
For longer than he should have, he sat on a piece of driftwood next to her, skipping stones. When that got old, they lay side by side on the sand, and Sam watched the leaves flutter in the breeze against a blue sky. He felt like life wasn't going to get better than this. Sam was comfortable, warm and free, and all he had to do was soak it in, his eyes closing in the sun. It had been a charmed afternoon, and maybe things could be different this time, maybe for all of them, maybe being a kid wasn't so bad during the last days of summer…
"Sam… Sammy! Sam!"
Sam sat up, the spell broken.
It was Dean, and Dean was pissed. Again. Just like that, Emily was gone.
Then Dean was there – Sam shouldn't have been surprised that Dean tracked him down. It was like Dean had his scent, and he hauled Sam to his feet. Sam couldn't remember ever seeing Dean so mad. The first punch caught Sam above the ear before his own anger collided with the pain. Sam scrabbled to his feet before flinging himself on his brother, fists flying.
Sam was small but fast, a good fighter. Dean blocked most of the blows that Sammy threw but then caught a good one to the gut and doubled over, swearing at him. But Dean pulled back, and his next punch landed Sam to his knees. Dean grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him hard in the sternum. Sam fell back, all the wind knocked out of him. Dean reached down and was hauling Sam up again, when something stopped him. He took hold of his shoulders and shook Sam hard instead.
"You son of a bitch! Why are you pulling this crap now? What the hell have you been doing?"
"Skipping stones," Sam said.
***
"I said I was sorry. Don't be an asshole, Dean."
Sam winced as Dean finished dabbing Iodine on the worst of the cuts. None would need stitches. Sam got down from the table to switch places and return the favor.
"There's a monster out here, Sam. Or maybe it's a demon, I don't know. Careful, Sammy, that hurts! But it's a bad thing that likes to rip out the guts of stupid little morons and paint the trees with their blood."
"That's gross."
"You better believe it's gross, and it's even grosser when it's happening to you. I can't protect you if you don't stay the hell with me when you're supposed to. God, Sam! You've never pulled half-assed crap like this. What's going on with you anyway?"
The cabin now smelled of Iodine and old fish in the heat of the afternoon. Dean refused to open any windows. Didn't trust the saltline to hold if an afternoon breeze kicked up. Sam wanted nothing more than to be outside again – he wanted to climb the highest tree, look around and see everything—but he knew better than to ask for what he couldn't have.
"Are you going to ignore me now? I want to know what this is about, Sam."
"I don't know. I don't know what I want."
That was a lie. Sam knew exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted was absolutely unacceptable. Dad always accused him of being selfish, and Sam was starting to think he was right. Sam was old enough to know the world didn't revolve around him, but he sometimes suspected that it did.
Being stuck in this life scared him more than monsters. And he'd seen some pretty badass monsters, but this was something he didn't know if he could kill off – the idea that his life could be more than this.
"I'm sick of this, Dean."
"Sick of what?" Dean looked so genuinely confused that Sam's anger died down. None of this was Dean's fault.
"I want to stay in one place for a while. I just want to be a normal boy. I want to play soccer. Make friends."
"I want a whole lot of things too, but wanting something doesn't make it happen. You know that, Sammy. Besides, you got me and Dad."
Sam wondered why that wasn't enough, especially since it had always been enough for Dean. Then he thought of what had gotten him into this and how messed-up it was to have a dead girl as his only friend.
"I know, Dean. But aren't you sick of being stuck in this?" Sam gestured angrily at the decrepit room around them.
Dean looked at him like he was crazy. "I don't know, Sammy, I think we got it pretty good. Most kids are stuck inside some stupid house, watching TV all day. We get to hunt badass things. How many geeks at any of your schools know how to handle a sawed off?"
"I want to be a Boy Scout." Sam didn't even know he was going to say it out loud.
"You want to be a Boy Scout," Dean repeated with utter disbelief.
"I'd be good at it. I want to join a pack."
"Is that why you've been acting so weird? You trying to earn some merit badge or something?"
Sam kicked at the massive burlap bag of salt that was leaning against the table. "No, I'm not registered in a pack. You have to live in one place to join, Dean."
"Why the hell would you want to be in a pack with some 11 year old freaks learning how to build campfires when you can have Dad, who's like the best hunter in the friggin world, teaching you everything you need to know?"
Sam wasn't backing down. "Eagle Scouts get scholarships."
"Aw crap, so now you gotta be an Eagle Scout too? You're eleven friggin' years old. Damnit Sammy, why can't you just enjoy summer like any other normal kid and not make everything so damn complicated?"
"First you say we have it better than normal, and then you say you want me to be a normal kid. That's not fair, Dean. You can't have it both ways."
"We save people. How many normal kids get to save people on their summer vacation? I know some of it sucks, Sammy, but life just flat-out sucks sometimes. And you need to stop scaring the crap out of me. I'm getting really sick of that!"
Sam knew that he'd been scaring Dean, and he was sorry. But there was more to the woods than a nameless monster, and he wanted Dean to know that too.
"Do you want to go back to the lake?" Sam asked. "I know the way now, and it'd be quicker. We could explore."
"No, I don't want to go and explore a damn lake. And neither should you. We've got more important things to do, like help Dad hunt down a monster that's been friggin eating people."
"I thought it was skinning people. Dad didn't say it was eating them too."
"Okay, I exaggerated. But that doesn't change anything. We're gonna stay here until Dad gets back and tells us what to do."
"Please, Dean. It'd be fun."
Dean let out a laugh. "You don't give up, do you? Maybe after we kill this thing, Sammy. Right now, we gotta take care of the guns before Dad gets back. That's what he told me to do, and I'm not going to be able to cover for you if it's not done. It's gonna be hard enough explaining how we both got all messed up."
"Once Dad kills it, then we'll just have to leave for somewhere else. C'mon, Dean, come with me. We could go on a hike—"
"Do you have any idea what's out there?"
"No, I don't," Sam said, "cause you and Dad won't tell me anything. This thing could stop and ask me for directions, and I wouldn't know to head the other way."
"There are things you don't need to know about, Sammy."
"You can't keep dragging me into a hunt and not let me know what's going on!"
"Okay, okay. Calm down." Dean was quiet for a while. "Maybe I can talk to Dad about Boy Scouts. It's a kid thing-- you're a kid. Maybe we could work something out. Could I take you to those meetings, you know, if Dad was out of town?"
It was never going to happen, but that didn't mean it didn't matter. Sam loved his brother. No matter how mad he got or how much he wanted out of this life, he'd never love anyone more.
"Sure Dean."
"Then, I'll look into it as soon as we get you in school. I mean it, Sammy. Everything's gonna be all right. Dad said so."
TBC – Feedback is very much appreciated !