Chapter One- The Runaway: Sam
July 14th, 2001, Waterville, Maine.
It is starting to happen again. Dad and Dean didn't think Sam knew, or noticed, but he always does. It never fails, that after moving to a new place, they will start to act a certain way. It starts with small, secret looks, and quiet conversations that end abruptly whenever Sam enters the room. And then they will start disappearing for large chunks of time. It was less noticeable during the school year, when Sam was away from home most of the day himself, but during the summer it is all too obvious.
Dad and Dean will start to disappear for hours, sometimes even a night or two, at a time. And this will keep happening until inevitably they will come home from one of these long absences, pale and exhausted but looking happy. And now that they are getting settled into the small town of Waterville, Sam is starting to see the patterns emerge once more. In fact it is actually starting sooner than normal this time. When they pull up to the apartment that Dad has found for them to rent, Sam leaps out as usual, backpack already slung over his shoulder.
"Hey kiddo." Dad calls, and Sam looks to him curiously. "Why don't you go pick the bedroom you want? Dean, help me with the bags."
"Better hurry tiger." Dean smirks over at him as well. "Before I get in there and swipe the better room." Sam just rolls his eyes, grinning at the thought that loud, obnoxious Dean could ever swipe anything from him, and heads inside to check out the new place, knowing that whatever Dad wants to tell Dean, it has nothing to do with him. They had both made that clear, and he was trying to respect that decision. As best he could anyways. The apartment is slightly nicer than their usual digs, a fully furnished, three bedroom, two bathroom place, with a decent living room complete with a massive television, and a surprisingly big kitchen.
Ignoring everything else, Sam goes straight to the bedrooms, ignoring the master since obviously that one is for Dad, and chooses the bigger of the other two rooms. Which also just happens to have a view of the impala parked out front. Half-hiding behind his curtains, Sam watches as Dean and Dad pull their bags from the trunk of the impala, Dad looking grim and serious, and Dean eager and excited, although they keep their voices too quiet for Sam to hear anything from his room. Shrugging, Sam turns away from the window and drops his bag on the twin-sized bed, kicking off his sneakers, before leaving his room to go help his brother and father unpack. Dean and Dad walk in at the same moment as Sam enters the living room and both shoot him a smile.
"What do you think Sammy?" Dad asks. "Place up to your standards?"
"Yeah." Sam grins. "Especially since Dean is getting the smaller bedroom."
"That's what you think, squirt." Dean smirks back at him. "Don't be surprised to come back from school one day and find all your stuff tossed out on the front lawn."
"You know that would be a lot better of a threat if you had even an ounce of follow through." Sam taunts back. Dean raised his eyebrows and grinned wickedly.
"You want follow through, punk?" He asks, stepping towards Sam.
"Boys." Dad cuts in, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Knock it off. Sammy, Dean won't touch your stuff. Dean, man up about the bedroom. You got the bigger one last time."
"Sorry Dad." Dean mutters, while Sam beams at his father and sticks his tongue out at his brother when Dad turns away. Dean sticks up his middle finger and Sam has to fight back a laugh, not wanting to get his brother in trouble by drawing their father's attention to it.
"Dean, why don't you take your brother and go on a supply run." Dad says, handing a wad of cash over to Dean. "Get us stocked up for a while."
"Sure." Dean says easily, sliding the cash into his pocket, before tossing his and Dean's bags onto the couch to unpack later. "Come on kiddo."
"I'm eighteen." Sam complains. "Not a kid."
"Teenager, kid, same thing in my book." Dean shrugs, reaching out and ruffling Sam's hair. Sam ducks out of the way quickly, batting Dean's hand away.
"Say that when I am taller than you." Sam mutters.
"You say that like it's possible." Dean laughs. Sam just smirks proudly.
"Not only is it possible, but it is probably going to happen this summer." Sam announces.
"Oh yeah?" Dean raises an eyebrow. "How do you figure?"
"I'm already only an inch, maybe half an inch shorter than you." Sam says smugly. "And I am still growing. Give it a month and I guarantee I am going to be taller than you."
"Yeah, maybe. But only if that ginormous geek head of yours gets any bigger." Dean scoffs.
"I guess I'll just get to say I told you so when it happens." Sam crows, heading towards the door as Dean grabs the keys to the impala.
"Keep dreaming Sammy." Dean says haughtily. "Dad, any requests while we are out?"
"Coffee." Dad says, as usual. He always asks for coffee when they go on a supply run. Especially when he is planning to have a later night. Sam tries to hide his frown, and shove away his curiosity. Dad was an adult, he was allowed to stay up late as long as he wanted. Still, it didn't stop Sam from wondering why he bothered. Unless it was for a job, and Dad had already found and gotten one before they had arrived in town. Being in pest control, it wasn't uncommon for Dad to have to work odd hours. That was how he explained away his and Dean's nights away, anyways. They were off dealing with nocturnal pests, like opossums, or raccoons, or bats or something.
Since Dean was supposedly learning the family business, he was often allowed to go with Dad, especially as Sam had gotten older, although Sam never was. And that was one of the reasons Sam suspected that they might not be telling him the entire truth. Sam wasn't lying, he isn't a kid anymore. If the whispered conversations, or secret meetings, or long absences were just about Dad's job, why wouldn't Sam be allowed to be a part of them? Why wouldn't they want Sam involved? He could help, maybe even join up when he finishes with college, since he is due to start at Stanford in September. He could major in business, or maybe even law, and be able to help with that side of things. Maybe it is time to bring that up with Dean, and get his input on the idea. Sam looks at his brother as he steps out of the apartment, and Dean follows, shutting the front door behind them. Together they move to the impala, and it isn't until they have climbed in, Dean driving and Sam sitting shotgun, the impala rumbling down the road towards town, that Sam finds the courage to speak up.
"Dean?" Sam asks softly.
"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean asks, rolling down his window and leaning one arm against the door as the other rests lightly on the steering wheel.
"I was just thinking… you know how I am… going to school in the fall?" Sam asks carefully. A huge smile lights up Dean's face, the way any mention of Sam getting into college does. Dad and Dean had both been absolutely ecstatic when Sam had gotten into Stanford, on a full ride no less. It had been one of the best nights of Sam's life, celebrating his step towards a higher education, and the pride he had seen in his father and his brother had been worth every second of hard work that Sam had poured into his high school years. In fact, the only other time he can remember seeing them that fiercely proud had been at his actual high school graduation a few weeks ago.
"Course I know about that." Dean answers Sam's question, shoving Sam's shoulder gently. "Hard to forget, with how much you never stop talking about it." He continues, teasing. Sam rolls his eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"Well… I was thinking. About what I might want to major in." Sam explains.
"Let me guess. Library Sciences." Dean jokes. "No wait, How to be a Nerd 101, you would ace it."
"Ha ha." Sam rolls his eyes again. "Actually, I was thinking maybe something that could help you and Dad." As Sam speaks, he watches with some surprise as the light, teasing expression on Dean's eyes fade, and his eyes tighten, and harden. His shoulders tense and his hand, which had been loose on the steering wheel, tightens so much that his skin whitens.
"What do you mean?" Dean asks, clearly still trying to keep his tone as jovial as it had been, and clearly failing miserably.
"Well, I want to help the family business." Sam explains, still watching his brother's every move, and growing curious at how… heavy, his eyes seem to have gotten. How almost… haunted they look. "I want to work with you and Dad, so I was thinking maybe… business? Or, like, law or something. Or even accounting, I like math…"
"Sammy." Dean whispers his name and Sam frowns, looking at his big brother, genuinely concerned now at how pale he has gone. "No."
"No?" Sam asks, confused. Dean shakes his head.
"Trust me, you don't want any part of the family business." Dean says, his voice a little stronger now, a little firmer. Sam's frown deepens.
"How would you know?" Sam asks, frustration leaking into his voice. "How would either you or Dad know that I don't want to be in the business? I can help!" Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair, glancing over at Sam almost as if he is studying him, before his expression hardens again.
"No, Sammy, you can't." He says sternly. "And even if you could, I wouldn't let you. It is way too dangerous."
"Pest control is dangerous?" Sam scoffs. Dean's face darkens. "Even if I bought that for half a second, I'm not talking about going out and dealing with the animals like you and Dad, Dean, I am talking about running the back end of things for you, to make it easier. You know, marketing, advertising, managing jobs for you guys, doing the taxes, that kind of thing." Amusement has started to replace the horror in Dean's expression and Sam frowns, more frustrated than ever. "What?" He demands.
"Nothing." Dean chuckles, shaking his head. "Listen to me, Sammy. I know you want to help, I do. But you have a real chance at a good, stable life. Going to Stanford, getting a career, settling down in one place. I know how much you want that, kiddo. I can see how tired you are, with living the way we do. Moving from place to place all the time. But if you go to school and you pick something just to help Dad and I, you are wasting your golden opportunity, man. What Dad and I do… we love it. We are built for it. You aren't, Sammy." Dean's voice is soft, but the words still sting.
"I'm not good enough?" Sam asks quietly, looking at his brother and not even attempting to hide how hurt he is by the accusation. Dean's eyes widen in horror as he meets Sam's gaze.
"No! No that is not what I am saying, Sammy. Not by a long shot." Dean quickly tries to reassure Sam. "What I am saying is you are too good. You deserve better. Better then cheap motels, and tiny apartments, than constantly moving around and being in da… being the new guy in town." Sam frowns, confused and frustrated. He never should have opened his big fat mouth in the first place, but now that he had, he feels like he surprised Dean into slipping in his usually perfect façade. What had he been about to say? Being in what? It almost sounded like he was going to say danger, but that is ludicrous. Almost as ludicrous as saying that it was too dangerous for Sam to pursue pest control like his family. Dean studies Sam and he must read the unhappiness and irritation in Sam's expression, because he sighs again, looking back towards the road. "All I mean, Sammy is… Dad and I… we aren't like you. We have different roles to play. Your only role is to go to school, get a fancy degree, and then an even fancier job. Get yourself a nice home and work hard, and have a good life. You deserve that much Sammy."
"And you and Dad don't?" Sam challenges. Dean's face sets itself into an expression of grim determination.
"Dad and I… we have work to do, Sammy." Dean says, not exactly coldly, but it isn't the usual warm, light tone Sam is used to, and it more than shuts down any further discussion on the subject. Dean reaches over to the radio, turning it on and up, so that loud rock music starts blasting through the car. Sam frowns, looking down at his lap. That conversation hadn't gone at all like how he wanted, but it wasn't a complete surprise either. If anything, it just further confirms Sam's suspicions. People don't act the way Dean did about pest control. They just didn't. Something more was going on, something Dad and Dean seem determined to keep him out of. Why, Sam isn't sure. Dean says it is because they are just different, but there has to be more to it, right? Sam just wishes he knew what he did, or didn't do, to be cut out like this. Stewing on that thought, Sam reluctantly follows Dean when they pull up to the grocery store, and, with a mountain of tension between the two, they shop quickly and efficiently for enough supplies to keep them going for a few weeks, including Dad's requested coffee.
After paying, and loading their stuff into the car, they climb back into their respective seats and set a course back to the apartment. Sam keeps his eyes on the road straight ahead, but he can feel Dean studying him every so often, and he can hear the small, quiet sighs that Dean is making, but neither of them say anything more for the rest of the drive, especially not about the family business. It isn't until they are pulling into the driveway that Dean finally breaks the heavy silence. "Sammy…"
"What?" Sam asks churlishly.
"I know you are frustrated man. I get it." Dean says kindly. Sam glances at him. "But do you trust me?" Sam scoffs.
"What kind of question is that?" He demands.
"Exactly what it sounds like." Dean says solemnly. "Do you trust me?"
"With my life." Sam says. Dean nods.
"Then trust me now, Sammy." Dean pleads softly. "Trust that Dad and I know what we are doing. Trust that we are just looking out for your best interests. We just want to keep you happy, and healthy, and safe. And in our line of work… believe me when I say you wouldn't be." Sam studies his brother, trying to find anything out of place in his expression but all he sees is sincerity and a desperation for Sam to trust him. And how can he not?"
"Alright." Sam says softly. Dean visibly relaxes, a grateful smile flashing across his face.
"Good." He nods. "And hey, this doesn't mean you shouldn't pursue business, or law, if that is what you want. Personally, with how well you argue against me, I would say you'd make a kickass lawyer." Sam laughs despite himself.
"Arguing against you isn't exactly a challenge." Sam teases. "It's actually really easy considering how often you are wrong." Dean puts on an expression of mock offense.
"How dare you, pipsqueak?" Dean catches Sam in a headlock, ruffling his hair again as Sam squirms, laughing.
"Let me go Dean!" Sam tugs against his brother's annoyingly firm grip.
"Not until I hear you say big brother is always right." Dean taunts. Sam tries to pull himself free a few more times before he finally sags in defeat.
"Fine. Big brother is always right. Happy?" Sam grumbles very unhappily. Dean smirks and lets Sam go. Sam sits back, rubbing his neck. "When did you get so freaky strong? And good at headlocks?" He demands. Dean just laughs.
"Big Brother Training School." He teases, finally turning off Baby as their father steps out of the apartment, presumably to see why they are still in the car. Both Sam and Dean climb out of the car as Dad raises his eyebrows.
"You boys alright?" Dad asks gruffly.
"Peachy." Dean calls, tossing a look to Sam as if daring him to mention their little wrestling match.
"Sammy?" Dad calls, a little more gently.
"Yeah, we are fine, Dad." Sam answers, not daring to rat out his brother. One, because Dean actually is freakishly strong for some reason. Stronger than a twenty -one year old had any reason to be. Two, because of the brother code. They dealt with things between themselves and tried to leave their father out of it. And three, drawing attention to Dean's ambush would just have their father watching them more carefully, which would make it a lot harder to get back at Dean without getting himself into trouble to. Dad nods once, happy with the report.
"Alright. Hurry up and get that stuff inside then. I have a client who wants to meet with us, Dean, to discuss a removal, so once you boys finish unloading I want to head out." Dad calls. Dean grins, that eager, excited look he had had earlier back on his face. Which is also suspicious. Who gets that excited about getting rid of small animals?
"On it Dad." Dean calls, and Dad smiles, before heading back inside. Sam looks over at Dean immediately, and grins his best mischievous grin.
"You know I am going to get you back for that headlock, right?" He asks softly. Dean snorts.
"Good luck, Sammy. But remember this one word. Nair." Dean teases. Sam scowls at the reminder of the horrific prank Dean had pulled when he switched out his shampoo for Nair. Sam will never quite get enough payback for that one. Shoving Dean lightly, Sam reaches into the car, grabbing about half the bags of groceries before turning and making his way to the apartment. He hears Dean laughing behind him, before the car door closes and he knows Dean is following him with the rest of the food they bought. Dad had left the front door open for them, so they just march right through to the kitchen, depositing their purchases on the counters. Dad walks in, pulling on his leather jacket, watching as Sam automatically starts pulling the food from the bags, ready to sort and put them away.
"Sammy, are you going to be okay by yourself for a few hours?" Dad asks softly. Sam glances at him, then towards Dean who is looking at him with just as much concern. Sam refocuses on his father.
"Yeah of course." Sam says promptly. "You think your meeting will take that long?"
"Yeah I think so. Seems to be a nasty infestation, and she wants us to get started as soon as possible." Dad answers, moving forward and gripping Sam's shoulder. "We'll be back before midnight though, I promise. Remember to lock the door and keep the windows shut until we are back. Don't let anyone in, and pick up if we call, alright?"
"Got it. Same rules as always." Sam says. Dad smiles proudly.
"Make sure you have something for dinner, alright? And try to get to bed at a reasonable hour." Dad continues.
"Yes sir." Sam nods his head in understanding.
"Also it would be great if you could unpack all our stuff." Dean adds in. Sam snorts.
"Fat chance. Unpack your own stuff when you get back." Sam grins at him, delighted that the chance to get back at Dean for his headlock has presented itself so soon. From the annoyed scowl on his brother's face, Sam can tell that Dean knows exactly what he is thinking. Dad just shakes his head and sighs in exasperation, reaching out and pulling Sam into a hug.
"Behave yourself, son." Dad says sternly.
"Yes sir." Sam says as his dad pulls away. Dean squeezes his shoulder once, smiling warmly at him, despite the irritation of knowing he'll have to unpack his own stuff after they get back from whatever they were going to do while using this so called meeting as a cover. And then Dad and Dean are moving, leaving, the door shutting behind them. Sam moves over, locking the door as he was instructed, before returning to the kitchen to finish putting away the food. He listens to the sound of the impala starting up, before the loud engine fades away, and Sam sighs, feeling the weight of loneliness settling around him. He checks the time, seeing it is just after four pm.
Once the groceries are put away, Sam moves to the living room, grabbing his duffle bag and Dean's bags and brings them to their respective bedrooms, dumping Dean's bags on his bed, before returning to his own room. But as he opens his bag, he suddenly realizes he doesn't want to unpack. In fact, he doesn't even really want to be inside. Knowing his family will be gone for a while, Sam decides to go check out Waterville a little bit more. Leaving his bag where it is, Sam turns and heads back to the living room, grabbing the spare key and walking out of the apartment, locking up behind him.
Looking both ways, Sam takes off down the road to the left, the same way they had gone to look for groceries. The apartment Dad had chosen was only a few minutes' drive away from downtown, so it isn't long before Sam sees the usual small town amenities. Local shops, a few chain stores and restaurants, a park, a rec center, town hall, the postal office and, finally, the library. Sam smiles widely and starts striding happily towards it, although he pauses as he spots a familiar black 69' Chevy Impala parked out front. Sam frowns, confused, although, logically, he supposed even a library might be in need of pest removal services. But the hairs on Sam's neck stand on end, and he has a gut feeling that his dad and brother aren't here for that. And his confidence that they are doing something other than just getting rid of people's pests grows in Sam.
Making a snap decision, Sam keeps walking towards the library, wanting to see for himself what exactly his family has been hiding from him. He climbs the steps up to the library, pulling open the door and walking into the air conditioned foyer, looking around hesitantly. Not seeing his father or brother right away, he starts slinking through the shelves, keeping his eyes peeled. Finally, he notices the two men huddled together at a table near the far end of the library, both heads bent low over a pile of books. Sam ducks into an aisle near them, staying carefully hidden among what he quickly realizes are romance novels, and he strains his ears as he hears his father speak softly.
"Bobby says he can be here by tomorrow." Dad is saying. Sam frowns. Uncle Bobby? Why is he coming? Is something wrong with the impala? Sam is pretty sure Dean would be complaining a lot more if that was the case. And Sam hadn't noticed any issues when he and Dean had gone out earlier.
"Good." Dean answers, and Sam refocuses as his brother sighs. "We could use his help. He have any ideas when you guys spoke on the phone?"
"He is pretty sure it's a nest." Dad says gruffly.
"Wonderful." Dean groans. Sam frowns in confusion. Nest sounds like their kind of work and yet… why does he get the distinct feeling that he is still missing something? "What makes him so sure?"
"No idea. It all looks like one to me, but he has been doing this a lot longer than I have, so I've learned not to question his judgement." Dad answers. Sam is even more puzzled than before. None of what he is hearing makes any sense at all. Nests means they are talking about a work thing, at least for Dean and Dad, but Uncle Bobby owns a scrapyard and auto shop. Unless, maybe it is a specific type of pest, maybe one that frequents scrapyards that Uncle Bobby might have some tips for on how to get rid of? Something like rats or something?
"Fair enough." Dean says softly. "The man is a genius when it comes to this stuff." Dad grunts in agreement and the two fall silent for a moment. Sam debates leaving, sure that he isn't going to get anything more clarifying about what the heck they are talking about, but then Dean is speaking again. "Are you sure you don't want me to sit this one out, and let you and Bobby handle it? Someone should stay with Sammy."
"I know you are worried son, but we are covering our tracks. There is no way anything can trace us back to him." Dad says confidently. "Besides, if Bobby and I are right, then these things are rare. I know you don't want to miss out on being able to hunt them. And with Sammy about to go off to school, you should be focusing on getting ready to do this full time. And he needs to be getting a little more used to being on his own. Or, more on his own at least."
"Have you told him yet?" Dean asks softly. Sam's curiosity burns even more, and he steps closer to the shelf, hoping to hear more.
"No, not yet. I was planning on surprising him after this job." Dad admits. "I think he is feeling nervous about moving out to California, so I thought it would be a pleasant surprise to let him know that we will be finding a more permanent home base near Stanford while he is studying. I already found a place." Dad was right. Sam is pleasantly surprised to realize his family isn't just going to strand him in Palo Alto for four years, while they continue traveling all over the country. Warmth floods through him at the idea of all three of them having, as Dad put it, a permanent home base. Sam can't help the smile the spreads across his face at the idea. Dad and Dean fall silent again, and Sam, feeling a lot better, despite the confusing things he had overheard, starts to slip away, before Dean is speaking again, softer even than before, and Sam freezes, straining to hear the words.
"What do we do with the one we know about?" Dean is asking.
"I think we take it out tonight." Dad replies.
"Won't that tip off the nest?" Dean asks, and Sam feels a chill run down his back. Once again, he has the odd feeling that his definition of nest, and Dean's is entirely different.
"I doubt it." Dad says nonchalantly. "Bobby will be here early, before noon easily. If it is a nest, they probably won't be expecting the thing back before nightfall tomorrow." Sam frowns, and the warm, happy feeling he had been feeling is quickly starting to dissipate. Nervousness is slowly starting to take its place, and he isn't certain he wants to hear anything else. Still, something holds him in place. "Did you find an address?"
"Yeah." Dean says. "Two Eighty-Nine, Blackwood Crescent. Abandoned warehouse, far side of town. Isolated and no neighboring residential areas, no way anyone should be coming across it." Sam is frozen, his heart starting to race as doubt and fear and confusion sweeps through him. This doesn't sound like a normal job for pest control. And that doesn't sound like his father and brother. Dean is supposed to be warm and teasing and happy. Dad is supposed to be kind, and gentle, if a little on the gruff side. These men sound cool, calculating and detached.
Suddenly, Sam wants nothing more than to get out of here, and away from them. Turning quietly on his heel, Sam leaves the aisle as quietly as he entered, hiding behind the shelves until his brother and father are out of sight, and he can slip unnoticed out of library. Without even thinking about it, Sam starts heading towards home, wanting to forget all about what he learned. What he overheard, and the dark pit that seems to have opened up inside of him where his stomach had once been. He tries very hard not to think, walking faster and faster until he is practically running back up the road, twisting and turning through the neighborhoods until he is back in front of the apartment.
And then Sam stops, breathing heavily, and staring at the front door. It is so close. All he has to do is walk over, put the key in the lock, and walk inside. Make himself some dinner, read a book maybe, look at some more pamphlets on Stanford and then go to bed at a reasonable time. Just like his father asked him to. But the things he had overheard in the library play over and over again in his head. Why was Dean looking up abandoned addresses? What kind of nest could they be trying to clean out? And why did they call in Uncle Bobby for something that didn't seem to have anything to do with cars? It all seems so shady. But… then again, is it really so shady? What if Dad's client was someone from the city, asking them to look at cleaning out some rodents from some abandoned or neglected property that they are looking to sell off, or renovate, or demolish? What if Dean was right, and pest control is slightly more dangerous than what Sam had been figuring, and they were looking at something deadlier than maybe a few stray rats, or rabbits or something?
That still doesn't factor in the Uncle Bobby of it all, but for all Sam knows, maybe Uncle Bobby has more experience with pest control than Sam is aware of? It isn't exactly like the grumpy old man likes to overshare after all. Maybe he genuinely just has some advice that can help his family. Sam's heart rate and breathing both slow as his head finally seems to be listening to some logic, and reasoning and he almost blushes with embarrassment. What is wrong with him that he immediately jumped to the worst conclusions? Dad and Dean are just doing a job, their usual job, and here Sam is freaking out thinking they might be burglars or something. Sam snorts, shaking his head at his own foolishness. It must just be some sort of transitional anxiety, or something, now that he is going off to college. And dad was right, that Sam had been nervous about being alone, living on his own in California.
But now that he knows his family is going to be there, he feels a weight lifting off of his shoulders, and he just feels more and more ridiculous by the second over his reactions to both what he heard, and what he and Dean had discussed. Of course Dean would be upset by the idea of Sam joining the family business. He and Dad were strictly blue-collar. Hard-working, devoted to their jobs, and amazing people, but he knows they both want more for him. They want him to have a stable home, stable income. He knows that. So of course the idea that he might be what they consider stuck in the same life style would be devastating to Dean. Of course, that isn't how Sam sees it, but he can see how they might. If only Sam can think of a way to explain it that might register with his brother and father. That he doesn't want to get 'stuck' as it were, but that, with his degree from Stanford, maybe he could help them all find that stability, that home, that he knows they want just as much as he does.
Deciding that thinking on how best to broach this conversation from that angle will be his goal for the evening, Sam lets out a long, slow breath and starts for the front door again, but the sound of a car slowing down and turning into the driveway stops him. Not hearing the usual accompanying roar of the impala's engine, or the loud whining growl of Bobby's truck, Sam turns in confusion to see a beat up, plain silver Honda civic turn into the drive. The door opens and a young woman, probably close to Dean's age, steps out, smiling widely at him.
"Hey kid." She calls. Sam pauses, watching her curiously. "I uh… saw you running down the street. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." Her voice is sweet and gentle, and her smile is kind. Gorgeous blue eyes look over him sympathetically, and angelic blonde hair frames her face like a halo. Sam's cheeks blush scarlet red from humiliation. Of course the pretty, attractive girl would have seen him running like a lunatic.
"I'm fine." He looks down shyly, touched by her kindness, but deeply regretting his insane theories and paranoia even more now.
"Are you sure?" The woman asks, closing her door and stepping closer. "You looked upset."
"I'm really good." Sam looks back up, meeting her eyes and he tries to smile reassuringly. "Thank you, though." The woman smiles a breathtaking smile, and Sam has the sudden need to know if she is single or not. Maybe it was worth embarrassing himself, if she is.
"My pleasure." The woman says, that soft, melodic voice washing over Sam and all he can think about is how that silky looking hair might feel under his hands, or how her ruby-red, full lips might feel against his. Eternally grateful that his father and brother are not here, Sam eyes the woman as she walks even closer, and he admires the lovely sundress hugging her figure. "Actually, I should be the one thanking you." Sam frowns at that, confused again. He is feeling confused a lot today.
"Why?" Sam asks. The woman grins, but the smile isn't nearly as lovely this time. There is something dark, and menacing about it.
"I never would have found the Winchester hide out if you hadn't led me right to it. Sam, right?" Sam freezes at her question. Unable to move, or even think properly through his shock, he only barely registers the passenger door of the civic opening, and a second person, one he hadn't even noticed when the car first pulled in, climbed out. This one was male, and also looked to be about Dean's age. Dressed in jeans, a dark shirt and thick leather jacket, Sam had a brief thought that he must be melting in the summer heat. That is, until he moved the jacket aside and Sam saw why he was wearing the jacket in the first place. A gun, some type of pistol, sits on his hip, and the man smirks when he notices Sam staring at it, wide-eyed. The woman starts speaking again, and Sam's eyes snap towards her, as fear starts to replace the shock holding him paralyzed. "It is Sam isn't it? Or are you Dean?" Sam stiffens at the mention of his brother, but stays silent. Every instinct he has tells him it would be a bad idea to answer that question. But then the man is moving closer, a hand drifting to the gun and Sam suddenly has a feeling that it would be a worse idea to not answer it.
"My girl asked you a question kid." The man smiles politely, but it, like the woman's, is cold, and menacing and dark and hides a promise of something terrible in it. Well, that answers the question on if she is single, Sam thinks slightly hysterically as he reluctantly answers.
"S… Sam. My na… name is Sam." He stammers. The woman smiles in delight.
"Excellent. I was really hoping we would run into you." She says brightly. "Would you be a dear and let us inside, Sam? I think it would be better for us to talk someplace private." Glancing once more at the gun at the man's hip, Sam swallows anxiously and nods, backing up slowly. No way was he turning his back on these two psychos who knew his name, and his brother's. Dean.
Sam feels a sharp pang, thinking about Dean, and he both wishes desperately that Dean was here with him right now, and eternally grateful that he isn't. The woman and the man follow after him towards the house, seemingly amused by his unwillingness to have his back to them. He finally reaches the porch and shifts sideways so that he can unlock the door while keeping them in his sights, before reluctantly leading them into the apartment. They follow quickly, shutting the door behind them, and then the man is pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Sam looks at them, his heart back to racing mode, and panic floods his body.
"Be a good kid, and turn around and put your hands behind your back, Sammy." The man orders, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Sam bristles slightly at the use of the nickname that only his father and brother get to use, but he isn't stupid enough to act on the anger. He has read enough books, seen enough shows, to know that if they wanted him dead, he would be already. But if he does something stupid, there are plenty of ways for them to hurt him, and make it that much harder for him to get away. So, slowly, trembling slightly from the force of his fear, Sam reluctantly turns around.
Dread creeps over him at having his back to them, leaving him vulnerable and exposed, even more so as he carefully places his hands behind his back. Swallowing back bile, and blinking hard to keep his vision from tunneling from the panic, Sam hears the footsteps behind him, and then the coolness of the metal cuffs is touching his wrists. He flinches, biting back a small whimper, as they click shut, but to his surprise they aren't as tight as he was expecting. Secure, sure, but he doubted they would do much more than bruise lightly. Then the man is gripping his arm and steering him towards one of the kitchen table chairs. Sam stumbles along, tripping twice before he is pushed, gently, into a chair. Sam looks up at the man, who is standing beside him, hand on his gun in a clear warning, and then at the woman, who is studying the living room curiously. Licking his suddenly very dry lips, Sam decides to try to see if he can figure out what is going on.
"Listen…" He says hesitantly, his heart beating faster as both of them turn to look at him. "If… if this is about money… we don't have any…" They both laugh, and Sam shifts uncomfortably, feeling like he is missing something important.
"We aren't here to rob you, Sam." The woman says after a moment, shaking her head. "You really don't know, do you? We had heard rumors, but we thought they were just that…" She laughs again as Sam stares at her in blank confusion.
"Look, lady, I don't know who you guys are… but my dad and brother will be home soon, and if you hurt me…" Sam begins, but he cuts off as the man grips his shoulder.
"Don't worry kid. We don't have anything against you." The man says. "We aren't going to hurt a hair on your head." Sam frowns, feeling utterly lost, and almost exhausted by fear.
"As for your dear father and brother… now they we do have something against." The woman says, a coldness creeping into her voice that sends shivers down Sam's spine. "We are going to need you to give them a call for us. I am assuming Johnny has a cellphone, yes?" Sam flinches at his father's name, his eyes widening.
"Yes… Bu…but it's only for emergencies." Sam whispers. She chuckles.
"Well, I would definitely say this qualifies, wouldn't you kiddo?" The woman asks mockingly, picking up the home phone that came with the place, and walking towards Sam. "What's the number?" Sam rattles it off quickly, desperate to not give these people a reason to hurt him. Maybe if they call his dad, he can call the police and they can come help Sam. The woman enters the number, holding out the phone as it starts ringing and putting it on speaker mode. It only rings twice before Sam hears his father's voice.
"Sammy?" Dad sounds concerned, anxious even and Sam looks up fearfully to the woman, whose eyes are telling him she wants him to speak first. "Sam? You there?"
"D… Dad." Sam manages to spit out. There is a beat of silence.
"Sam, what's wrong?" Dad asks, suddenly a lot more calm, but a lot more serious. The woman lifts a finger to her mouth, telling Sam to be quiet and Sam nods once, still feeling the man's hand on his shoulder.
"Hello again John." The woman says. The silence lasts even longer this time. "Johnny, this is just rude. Don't tell me you've forgotten me?"
"Emma." Dad says, his voice ice cold now. Sam flinches, never having heard it like that before. "I swear to god, if you hurt him…"
"Don't worry, your baby boy is fine." Emma purrs. "We don't hurt the innocent, you should know that… and he is more innocent than we expected. He doesn't know anything, does he?"
"No." Dad snaps.
"Good. If you want to keep it that way, we need to meet. And bring the other boy of yours. Dean. I would love to see him again." Emma orders, grinning down at Sam. There is hardly any silence this time before his dad is speaking.
"Where?"