Chapter Fifteen: It's a Big Deal

(Salvation – Pt2)

Sam followed big brother to their motel room. Right now, he felt eternally grateful for having a big brother and horrifically pissed that it hadn't happened until recently. What had taken Dad so damn long? Maybe it had just taken Dad that long to find Dean. Speaking of Dad, he was sitting at the table in the room with all kinds of handwritten papers spread out in front of him. Sam supposed Dad had been confirming that the demon would be showing up.

"There you are," Dad said, glancing up briefly. "Find anything? I'm pretty sure it's going to strike soon, either tonight or tomorrow night."

Sam swallowed hard, dropping his backpack to the floor. "I think it's going to be tonight."

Dad looked up then, met Sam's eyes. "Why?"

"Well…" Sam wasn't sure how to say it. He sat down on one of the beds and continued. "I found this woman with a baby girl who turns six months old tonight."

Dad nodded, still staring at him. "And? It's going to take a little more than that, Sammy."

Sam nodded. He looked to Dean for support. Dean gave him a slight nod to continue.

"Well, see, I have these visions, and things happen exactly the way I see them. I saw the demon come for them." Sam took a deep breath, met Dad's gaze again.

Dad's eyes narrowed. "You had a what?"

"Vision," Dean answered. "It started with dreams, but now he's having them when he's awake." Dean shrugged, leaning against the chest of drawers. "We weren't sure what they meant."

"Visions?" Dad stood up. Sam heard the shake in Dad's voice, the sound that never meant anything good. "Sam is having visions and you didn't bother to tell me?" His voice rose close to a shout.

Sam watched, wide-eyed, as Dean took the brunt of Dad's anger. He didn't mean for this to happen, but right now his voice didn't want to work.

"Tell you?" Dean asked, and he sounded way too calm. "When was I supposed to tell you?"

Dad slammed a hand down on the table, scattering a few pages to the floor. "The minute you knew Sam was having visions, Dean! You should have picked up the phone and called me!"

Now, that expression on Dean's face Sam knew all too well.

"Call you?" Yeah, Dean sounded way, way, way too calm. "Call you?" Louder now. Maybe Sam needed to think about getting that extra room. "Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Sam, your son, called you when I was dying. I got a better chance of winning the lottery than of getting you on the god-damned phone!"

Red faced, fists balled, Dean stood within inches of Dad. Sam's eyes darted between them, his abject fear that the only two people who meant anything to him were close to blows the only thing keeping him rooted to the bed. He knew he should do something, stop them. Dean would. But Sam couldn't move, every muscle in his body frozen stiff. He couldn't even breathe.

Then Dad did something that Sam could not only never forget, but had never seen before. Dad took a step back. "Yeah, you're right." He ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. "Okay. Fine." Dad backed down. He actually backed down.

Dad stood there in the middle of the room breathing heavy for a minute. He pointed one finger at Dean when he was ready to speak again. "Don't start pulling that 'your son' crap with me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied softly.

"Good." Dad reached out and grabbed Dean's arm briefly before sinking down to sit next to Sam. "Okay son, tell me about these visions."

Sam glanced back at Dean, though. Dean took a seat across from them, nodded to Sam to get started already. Yeah, they only had a few hours until sundown and a lot of ground to cover.

Dad's face was ashen when he disconnected the call on his cell. "They got Caleb," he whispered. "I heard the bastards kill him." Dad took a shaky breath. "They want the gun or they'll keep killing people we know."

He looked at Sam when he said that. Dean stayed back, a step behind Sam. This was from their life before he met them, he wasn't involved in this. He noticed the way Sam's shoulders and neck tensed, so this Caleb guy meant something to Sam, too.

"What do we do?" Sam asked, a tremor in his voice.

Dean rested a hand high on Sam's back, just below his neck, to remind him that not everyone was dead. Not yet, anyway. He felt Sam's muscles relax some under his touch.

"We need that gun to kill the demon, but maybe I can distract it." Dad looked at him. "Dean, do you think you can find a replica? A gun that looks like the Colt, same vintage? I don't think they'll be able to tell the difference."

Dean nodded. He felt Sam tense up again, so he slipped his hand up a little to the base of Sam's neck and gave a gentle squeeze. Sam didn't knock him away or send him sprawling on the floor, so Dean supposed his brother was taking his reassurances well.

"What are you planning to do?" Dean asked, a heavy pit in his stomach.

"I'm going to take them the replica, tonight. You two take the Colt to the house and kill the sonuvabitch."

"No," Sam whispered.

"You'll be a sitting duck," Dean complained.

Dad smiled at them. "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," he said. "You two just worry about killing that demon. You do that, and I'll be just fine."

Dean dropped his hand away. How could he comfort Sam when he felt so damned lousy himself? "Yeah, sure. No problem."

Sam's elbow knocked swiftly but gently into his ribs. "Dad, you know this is a trap."

"I know, son," Dad said softly. "But I really don't have a choice. If I can keep the others distracted long enough, you and Dean can finish this tonight."

"Why Dean?" Sam demanded.

Dean glanced over at his brother in surprise. "What? You want me to go with Dad?"

Sam ignored him, glaring at Dad. Dad shook his head. "Maybe I'll tell you after this is over. Right now, we need a gun."

"On it," Dean replied, heading away. Sam's question really made him wonder, though. What did that mean: 'Why Dean?' Why was he involved? Why did Dad ask him to be part of the family? Why didn't Dad send him in as the decoy, like usual? Question after question plagued him while he shopped for a decent replica. The third pawn shop he hit had a Colt the right vintage. Dean talked the shop owner down a couple of hundred before laying down cold, hard cash for it. This wasn't the time to be cheap, they were in a hurry.

As expected, Sam was fuming when he got back. There was tension in the air, but he figured they both looked in too good a condition for any real fighting to have happened in his absence. Dad took the replacement and left, not even bothering to hug either of them.

They sat in the car, parked just outside the house where the demon would strike, in an uncomfortable silence. Finally Dean couldn't stand it any longer.

"Why'd you ask 'why Dean'? I kinda thought we'd been over this," he said.

Sam gave him the strangest look. "Not why you're here. Why Dad changed your name. I mean, he could've made you a Winchester with your real first name."

Dean scowled. "Dean is the first real name I've ever had." How could Sam still be questioning his place in the family?

Sam held both hands up in surrender. "I'm not saying anything like that, I swear. I just don't get why he picked the name Dean, that's all."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam. Sam didn't get it? How could he not get it? This wasn't about being added to a family. "Seriously? Come on, man. I'm a replacement."

Now it was Sam's turn to show surprise. "For me? While I was at school?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, that probably had a lot to do with it, but no. For Dean."

Sam had this totally blank expression. "I don't get it. You're Dean."

"Shit, Sam. You're not this dense." He rolled his eyes heavenward, even though he knew he wouldn't be getting any help from that direction. "For their other kid."

The blank expression changed, became suspicious. "I was an only child," Sam replied in a guarded voice. "My mother died when I was six months old. There wasn't time for another kid."

Dean just stared at him. "Dude, you were the second baby. The real Dean was still-born."

Sam's eyes widened. He might have said something after that, but the house lights began to flicker. "Shit," Dean breathed, "it's starting. Sam? How much experience do you actually have with demons?"

Sam glanced back, his door halfway open. "Probably less than you."

Dean nodded. "Great. Just so we're on the same page."

Sam raced to the house, Dean's words still reverberating in his mind. 'Dude, you were the second baby.' Second. Was that why it was actually easy to follow Dean's lead? Was that why he could accept having a big brother that Dad picked up on the road? Or maybe it was because he was just as screwed up as Dad.

Dean picked the lock on the front door, swung it open to let Sam in first. The Colt felt heavy in his hand. Dean had just handed it over without a word, no discussion. Clearly it was more Sam's fight than Dean's.

Dad was even more screwed up than Sam imagined if he deliberately went out of his way to replace a child that had been still-born. A child Dad had never mentioned, not once. It made Sam wonder as he crept up the residential staircase. It had to still be an open wound if Dad still refused to discuss it, but he told Dean - uh, Jerry.

A woman opened the door to the nursery. Sam slipped quietly up behind her. He didn't want to frighten her, she might scream and alert the demon he was there. She let out a short shriek when she spotted the dark figure standing over the crib. When she began to slide up the wall, Sam sprang into action.

He leapt into the room, Colt at the ready. Bright yellow eyes blinked out at him from the shadow. Sam lifted the Colt, aimed and fired all in one smooth motion. At this distance he couldn't possibly miss. The demon swirled away out of existence. Was that it? Was it dead? He expected something more dramatic. Then he smelled fire.

Flames licked the walls as the mother dropped to the floor. Sam scooped the baby out of her crib. He thrust the Colt into his back waistband to give himself a free hand to haul the young mother out of there.

The sound of Dean arguing with a man downstairs reached them as he hustled them to the stairs. The woman raced down to calm her husband. Good thing, Dean had issues with people being ungrateful as it was.

Outside Sam looked up at the nursery window to see a dark figure standing in the flames. The demon! Furious, Sam raced for the front door only to run smack into Dean.

"Move!" he ordered, reaching out to shove Dean out of his way.

Dean was stronger than Sam usually gave him credit for. Dean grabbed his arm, forced him back a couple of steps. "Why, Sam? You go in that house and you'll die!"

Sam snarled at the window. The demon still stood there, taunting him. "It's worth it."

"No!" Sam found himself flat on his ass staring up at a furious Dean. "No, Sam, it's not! I didn't join this family to watch you and Dad kill yourselves! I won't let you!" Dean dropped to his knees in front of Sam, grabbed him by the shoulder. "I can't."

Dean's eyes pleaded with Sam to understand. Sam tore his gaze away. The shadowy figure disappeared from the window. Sam didn't really get it, why Dean was so upset. Looking at the shattered expression on Dean's face, Sam resolved to understand, whatever it took. He would understand. He didn't know how long it would take, but first things first.

"Dad," Sam breathed, horror settling in now that the immediate danger had passed. They had failed in their mission, the demon was still alive. What had happened to Dad? What was happening to Dad now? The demon had to know Sam had the Colt and it had forced him to waste a bullet.

"Yeah." Dean stood, hauling Sam up with him. "Come on."

Sam started to follow when the baby's mother rushed over to thank him. Dean was definitely right about one thing, it was nice when people noticed what you did for them.

They both paced the motel room for a couple of hours. Dad hadn't answered any of the numerous calls to his cell. Sam's cell rang, stopping them in their tracks. He looked down at his cell, it registered an incoming call from 'Dad.'

"Thank God," he mumbled, flipping his cell open. "Dad?"

"No, but he's here," a woman's voice said.

Sam's stomach flipped. "Meg?"

Dean was instantly at his elbow, head leaning close to listen. Sam twisted the phone out so Dean could hear too.

"Aw, Sammy. You remembered."