Hi, hello, I'm still alive! Shh, no it definitely hasn't been two years, I don't know what you're talking about—
Okay, so I am not great with the passage of time. Not to mention I fell into a rabbit hole of anime these past two years and neglected my favorite father-son-special-child duo, whoops.
But this AU is alive and well! I can't guarantee regular updates, but I'll try to keep the window below two years this time.
Sam's head hurt. Unprovoked assault might have been part of the dream, but his pain was real.
His ears rang, louder now than in his dream.
Sam clapped clammy palms over stinging ears as he vaulted out of bed and tore down the hall.
The light and the noise, just like he'd suspected, was coming from Jack's room.
The television screen was on, but somehow produced only static, spreading an eerie white glow across the room.
Jack wasn't at the foot of the bed where Sam had left him.
Even though he was curled into a tiny ball, Sam spotted him in an instant—he was in the far corner of the room, in the small space between the bed and wall.
He was glowing.
A blue-white light emanated from beneath his skin, surrounding him like a cocoon.
Sam crossed the room in seconds. "Jack. Jack?"
As he approached, the ringing in his ears grew louder. More intense. It felt as if a spike were being stabbed through his skull. His head ached with the pressure.
Sam knelt at the boy's side, hands hovering uncertain over him. He'd tried to avoid touching Jack as much as possible, knowing what kind of treatment he'd been subjected to—and now, with the celestial aura around him, Sam wasn't even sure he could touch Jack.
"You're okay. No one's going to hurt you. You're safe, Jack."
Jack's head snapped up.
Sam's mouth fell open without his permission. Jack's eyes were completely consumed by the blinding bluish glow. Light poured from his mouth, along with faint, indecipherable sounds that Sam couldn't identify. If he had to guess, he would say they were fragments of Enochian.
"Jack." Sam reached forward and grasped the boy's wrists with the lightest touch possible.
The skin-on-skin contact sent black spots dancing in Sam's vision. His head pounded like it was being squeezed by a giant hand.
Sam ignored the pain as best he could. "You're okay. You're okay."
What kind of lie was that? Jack was clearly not okay.
Jack's wings shot open behind him. They too glowed with what little celestial power he had left—although the effect was somewhat subdued by the featherless, bleeding skin.
Sam had only seen an angel die once before. It had looked exactly like this.
Was Jack dying? Were his wings about to catch fire and burn away his insides? Would Sam have to take care of a tiny corpse with burned-out eyes and charred wings?
The thought sent spasms through his hands. Before he knew it, he was pulling Jack closer, engulfing him in a tight embrace, cradling the kid's head against his chest. "I've got you."
His nostrils filled with a smell suspiciously like ozone, and he felt his head would explode at any moment from the ringing pressure. Nevertheless, he held tight to Jack. "I've got you."
He would not let things end this way. Not before Jack had gotten a chance to heal from the wounds inflicted on him by this cruel world.
Sam couldn't say how long he stayed there, arms locked around Jack. Long enough that the glass in the bedroom windows cracked and the static-filled TV shorted out. But after an age, an eternity, the glow faded and the ringing subsided.
He could hear Jack's short, panicked breaths against his shirt.
Jack was alive. He was alive. He'd survived…whatever that was.
Sam loosened his grip slowly. His muscles were rigid, locked into place. His head still pounded, though the piercing ring had stopped.
Jack looked up at him with blue-gray eyes.
No light. No Enochian syllables. Just wide child's eyes looking for reassurance. Solace. Something.
Sam brushed the hair out of the boy's eyes with sweaty palms. "You're okay, Jack. You're okay."
Jack simply stared. His chest heaved, which emphasized his prominent ribs.
Then his hand moved. Reached upward until his fingers landed on Sam's lips.
Sam froze. He didn't even dare breathe as Jack's cold fingers grazed his upper lip and came away dark.
Dark?
Sam touched a startled hand to his lip, only now registering the trickling wet, the iron taste. His nose had begun bleeding sometime during the episode, and he hadn't even noticed. "Oh."
"Sam."
The word was so soft, nearly unintelligible. A second passed before Sam realized it had come from Jack.
His voice was paper thin and crackly from disuse. Little more than a breath on his lips.
But it was the first time he'd spoken aloud. The first thing Jack had said was Sam.
His name. His name.
Too stunned to respond, Sam could only watch as Jack raised his hand again. His hand glowed faintly around Sam's nose, and the trickles of blood vanished. The pounding in Sam's head dulled.
Oh god. Had Jack just…
Energy coursed anew through Sam's fatigued body. He felt more awake than he had since he'd woken up the previous day.
The glow. Celestials were rumored to have healing powers, but this drained, wounded, half angel? Could he have possibly…
Would he truly use what limited power he had on Sam?
Jack's brow furrowed. His hand trailed up Sam's jaw, skimming over stubble and pushing aside his long hair. "Sam."
His fingers stopped and circled around a spot just below Sam's ear.
There was no pain, but Sam's skin prickled as he understood what Jack had found.
Below his left ear, a cluster of tiny scars sat on his neck, hidden by his hair. Twenty, thirty, overlapping healed holes, marking where needles had punctured his skin over, and over, and over.
Jack's mouth opened slightly, revealing the tiny gap between his front teeth.
He said nothing more, but the question burned in his eyes. What happened to you?
Sam wondered if by healing a small amount of his hurt, Jack had sensed the deep well of pain buried inside Sam.
His large hand closed around Jack's tiny one, gently guiding him away from the old wounds. "It's okay. I'm okay."
If there would ever be a time for sharing, this was not it.
Jack stared at him, transfixed.
Sam attempted a smile. Still shaken and breathless, he didn't think he was successful. Hard to look reassuring when blood had just been pouring from your nostrils.
But Jack had healed him. Healed him. Sam could hardly believe it.
Jack blinked red-rimmed eyes up at Sam. Whether from the exhausting, exciting day he'd had, or his recent episode, or just his life in general, the kid looked tired as hell.
"Hey. Did you sleep at all?"
Jack just looked. No response. He didn't seem inclined to speak any more than the one word he'd mastered.
A quick glance at the wall clock revealed it was barely past midnight. Plenty more time for sleep, then. "Great. I'll go back to bed. Let you rest."
As he made a move to stand, Jack's small, shaking hand tightened inside his.
Sam could've broken his brittle grip with ease, but the message was clearer than if Jack had screamed it: Please don't go.
His eyebrows pinched upward, a silent child's whine echoing through his expression.
Sam's heart seized. Jack wanted him to stay. After the terror of…whatever that had been, the kid didn't want to be alone.
He wanted Sam to stay with him.
Characteristically, Sam stuttered in response. "Oh. O-okay. I…" He cleared his throat. "I won't go."
Jack's wings, hovering slowly behind his back, dipped downward in a gesture Sam wasn't sure was relief, relaxation, or simple fatigue.
Sam tugged their joined hands upward, urging Jack to his feet. "C'mon. Let's get you tucked in."
With his free hand, he pulled the bedspread away from the mattress to reveal the pillows and blankets beneath.
Jack stared. He of course didn't say a word, but his hand tightened around Sam's.
It occurred to Sam belatedly that he might have never seen a bed before. Where would he have?
He settled himself on the mattress, his back resting against the headboard. "You can lay here." He patted the space beside him.
Jack crawled onto the bed slowly, hands skimming over the fabric as if he were afraid it would burn him. He curled in on himself next to Sam, his wings repeating the same motion as earlier in the evening—spiraling inward and over him, creating a shelter for him to rest under.
Gently, and slowly enough that Jack could wriggle away if he wanted, Sam tugged the bedsheet up and over the kid's tiny, huddled body.
Jack went rigid under the light pressure, but then his eyes widened as the warmth began building around him. He relaxed into the mattress with a soft sigh. His finger stroked the fitted cotton bedsheet as if marveling at its texture.
Sam allowed himself this small triumph. "You like that? Feels good?"
Jack turned his head, those tired, bloodshot eyes staring up at him with something resembling…comfort. Ease.
As if he felt…safe here.
With Sam.
Something flooded through Sam's veins, warm and tingling and more than a little foreboding. For there to be trust, now the trust could be broken.
Could Sam let this boy, this broken, hurting boy, rely on him—
Too late for that kind of doubt. Jack was here, and he did rely on Sam. Even after just one day, the kid was curled up to sleep with mere inches between his body and Sam's.
The trust was there. It was up to Sam not to break it.
He met Jack's eyes with a smile, no less sincere for its weariness and apprehension.
Then Jack's eyes were closing, his breathing slowing, mouth opening after every exhale in the gentlest form of a snore.
Sam leaned his head against the bed's headboard and watched him.
…
When Sam woke several hours later, his neck was sore and his joints stiff. Early morning light set the room aglow in a dim, hopeful, pearl gray.
Jack was still curled beside him, asleep. Possibly more soundly asleep than he had ever slept in his life.
One hand had slipped delicately under his cheek to cradle his head. The other made a loose fist near his face, his thumb positioned in such a way that Sam suspected he might have been sucking on it at one point in the night.
Small, sleepy sounds escaped from him at regular intervals as he breathed. These were not the scared, breathless whimpers Sam had heard from him before—they were peaceful.
Sam had brought him a night of peace. Even after his terrifying midnight episode, staying with Sam had given Jack a night of uninterrupted sleep, a bed to lie on, and blankets to keep him warm. Even his mere presence had seemed to soothe Jack.
That was something Sam could be satisfied with.