Sherman, Texas
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sam waited anxiously while Christina, one of the nurses at Dr. Randall’s office, nudged the tiny weights across the lined bar. Johnny’s face was red and he was screaming from the discomfort of the cold metal of the scale he lay on, and Sam had to curl his hands into fists to keep himself from picking him up and cradling him.
Finally, the bar balanced, its pointer hovering between the plus and minus signs at the end, and Christina gathered Johnny up into a small blanket. “Go back to your daddy, now,” she said, and placed the baby into Sam’s arms.
“Well? How is he?” Sam asked.
“All of his tests show he's normal,” Christina explained. “Your son is perfectly healthy. And he’s a big boy. Twenty-one and three-quarters of an inch long; nine pounds, three ounces. Fourteen and a half inches in head circumference. All three measurements are a touch above the ninety-fifth percentile.”
“He looks so tiny, though.” Sam sat down on a cushioned chair in the exam room and rocked Johnny until he was quiet.
“Compared to you, yes, he is, but he’s actually large for a newborn.”
“Must have been the Cheetos,” said Sam. “I told Dean to quit it and start eating fruit, but he wouldn’t. Said it was hard enough to give up the beer and coffee. He-” Sam stopped when felt something warm and wet touch his jeans and spread in a small circle on his thigh. “Dude, what the hell? Did you pee on me? I just changed my clothes a couple hours ago.”
Johnny looked up innocently at Sam.
Christina wiped Johnny clean with a baby wipe and put a diaper on him. “He’s going to go through a lot of diapers at first, and he’ll need fed every few hours. Since he’ll be fed formula, either you or Dean can feed him. Breastfeeding is not an option because Dean isn't producing any milk, and doesn't have enough breast tissue to make what your son needs even if he was. Unless his father helps out for a little while, though, you’ll be doing most of the feedings yourself for the first week.”
“What? Why?”
“Dean is in surgery right now. No, don’t worry, he’s going to live. But needs to have a few dozen stitches “ there were a lot of small internal tears and extreme stretching of intestinal tissues, and those need repaired. Dr. Randall removed his... um, diverticulum? Otherwise, material could collect in it and decay, and by the time he felt ill he’d already be very sick and need emergency help.”
“Isn’t a diverticulum a small protrusion in the intestinal wall? This one was big enough to hold a nine-pound baby.”
“Normally, yes, but there really isn’t another word for what Dean had,” said Christina. “He’ll heal, but he’ll be recovering for awhile. I suggest you take a few weeks off from work. If you’ve been at your workplace for a year or longer, you should have unpaid leave benefits under FMLA. I don't know if it would extend to someone who only lives with you, though... the law doesn't always protect you in situations like this. Still, your employer might be able to grant you the leave anyway.”
“Uh, my job doesn’t really come with that kind of benefits,” Sam said. “It’s a long story. I’m sort of a… an independent contractor. I travel all over and am usually only on a site for a few days.”
“I see. Well, if you can get some time away, that would be for the best. I’ll let you know when the doctor is finished.”
Sam carried Johnny back out to the waiting room and they waited there alone. The emergency clinic was closed for the first half of the day, with post-op appointments rescheduled and new emergencies routed to other hospitals. He looked down at his son, and suddenly he understood that his life was going to be different. He’d known that already, intellectually, but only now did it feel real. Was this what it was like for Dad when Dean was born? he wondered. Probably the answer was both yes and no. The first baby “ Johnny likely to be Sam’s only one “ did change everything, but at least back in 1979, the Winchesters had a permanent home. Dean and Sam hadn’t been anywhere longer than a week since the year before; they lived in their car and in hotels. They were men in their twenties; it was a fine life for them. But the question that they’d nearly forgotten, in the frenetic rush from city to city, looking for clues and chasing down the Sister of the Night God, was how were they going to keep hunting evil beings while taking care of an infant?
Large compared to other babies or not, Johnny was very small in Sam’s arms, small and fragile. Sam brought him up to his own chest and held him close. Daddy’s going to protect you, somehow, he thought, and touched Johnny’s wispy brown hair. Soft, thin hairs, soft skin. He just hasn’t figured out how yet.
Sam reluctantly put Johnny back into his car seat when he started to cry, and carried the seat into the clinic office. There was a small microwave there, and he poured out two ounces of the high-grade baby formula that Christina had given him into a bottle and heated the bottle for a few seconds. He remembered seeing on television that people sometimes tested the temperature on their wrists to make sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold. The thin stream of formula he squeezed out onto his wrist felt like it was around body temperature, so he sat down with Johnny and touched the bottle nipple to his mouth.
Johnny opened his mouth and started his meal right away. “Must be hungry, huh,” Sam whispered. “I don’t know how you drink that stuff. It smells awful. Maybe not to you? You’re getting it down fast.”
Sam leaned his head down and kissed Johnny’s forehead. The baby finished the whole bottle and sat content and full in his father’s embrace.
Sam sat there without moving for several minutes, with the warm bundle asleep in his lap. One day at a time, one hour at a time. They’d make it.
Lewisville, Texas
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
They had been at the hotel for three weeks and three days, minus the day and two nights they spent in Denton and Sherman. It was a nice, long vacation, and a badly needed rest time for all three of them “ and even John, although he wouldn’t admit it, and he left only after the first week, when Dean was allowed to start eating again, mostly eating soup and drinking fruit juice, and didn’t need monitored as closely.
“I’m getting sick of this town,” Dean said. He was devouring a small stack of saltine crackers. “We’ve been here doing nothing for three weeks.”
“Doctor’s orders were that you avoid strenuous activity for a month. You can hang on for one more week.”
“We can’t just stay here and play Susie Homemaker. You and Dad might have gotten rid of the well spirit but there’s more shit out there going after innocent people. We have to stop it.”
There was a knock at the door, and Sam swallowed his response and looked out of the peephole. There was a woman on the other side of the door, with dark hair tied into a single braid. She wore jeans and a black sweater, and had a medical collar around her neck, preventing more than the slightest head motion. “Uh, Dean, I think we have a visitor.”
He opened the door, and it took him another few seconds to recognize the woman. “Amanda?” he asked, puzzled. He hadn’t missed the initial news reports, that Melissa Hall was murdered in Dallas on Halloween, and Amanda was in the hospital with a skull fracture following being stunned with a Taser and hitting her head on a concrete sidewalk. “I thought your skull was cracked “ what are you doing here?”
“It is cracked. Healing, but not all the way yet. I have to keep the collar on unless I’m in bed.” She sighed. “Is it all right if I come in?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He stepped aside and let her through the door. “Do you want some coffee? If you can have it. I just made a pot.”
“Sure. Black, please “ just half a cup.” She eased herself into one of the two chairs at the small table and folded her hands in her lap. “Uh, Sam, Dean, I’m not going to stay long. I don’t want to bother you, and I’m surprised you’re still here. I thought you’d run off again now that the job is done. Anyway, I wanted to say thanks. For helping me out and all. If you hadn’t told me how to draw the rune and everything else, I’d probably be dead. Almost was dead.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s what we do,” Dean said. “We help people.”
“Yeah. I know I was being a little shit last time we met. The only time we met, I guess. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t just trying to bother me, that you wanted to help. I wish-” She stopped and stared straight ahead, at an imaginary point somewhere over Dean’s shoulder. Her voice went soft. “We were best friends for almost ten years. It would have been ten years next year. Met in college. And now she’s gone, and I don’t remember what happened. I don’t remember anything after sitting down in the circle, from then until about two weeks ago. And the week after that is all in pieces.”
“It’s probably for the best,” said Sam. “That kind of stuff will give you nightmares, and it won't make you feel any better.”
“You did kill her, right? The girl who was chasing us?”
“She’s gone and won’t ever bother anybody again. My father took care of her, burned her bones and sent her spirit back to where it belongs, and Dean and I helped.” Sam gave her a plastic cup of plain coffee.
“Mostly Sam and Dad,” said Dean. “I didn’t do much.”
“You stayed alive and you didn’t call me,” Sam told him. “That was enough. We wouldn’t have found Laura’s bones in time if I wasn’t there, because it was in my half of the field. Dad wouldn’t have gotten to it for at least another hour.”
Amanda frowned and took a sip from her cup. “What are you two talking about?”
“It’s complicated,” Sam said.
“Oh. Never mind, I guess. Um... do you remember what time you found her?”
“Not exactly. A little bit after four o’clock. I’m pretty sure that my father set her on fire at four-thirty-six in the morning on the thirty-first, give or take a minute.”
Now Amanda’s face took on the pallor that she usually created artificially with cosmetics. “That was when I turned around,” she said. “They said at the hospital that I was dying and my heartbeat was all over the place, but a few minutes after four-thirty it evened out and they started picking up... ectro... elero... some kind of brain signals again that weren’t there before. Like it was a miracle. I wasn’t supposed to live.”
“Yes, you were. All of us were supposed to live, but there’s evil in the world, and it gets in the way and hurts people. This particular evil force was one of the bigger ones, and we weren’t able to save everyone. Maybe it was for the best for Joshua, but I’m really sorry about your friend. We did everything we could do.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to make it without Melissa,” Amanda said, and her face twisted as she struggled to keep from crying in front of them. “I really don’t. I know I have to, because I could have died and I didn’t and my life has to count for something now. But it’s hard!”
“It gets easier,” said Sam. “You never forget, but you move on.”
There was a soft, whimpering cry, but it wasn’t from Amanda. Dean got up and went over to the crib in the corner of the room and lifted Johnny out of it, then rested him against his shoulder and brought him over to the table.
“One of you has a kid?” Amanda asked. “I didn’t think either of you even had girlfriends.”
Dean raised one of his eyebrows at her. “Amanda, were you paying any attention when we met you out in Denver? About how the wishes work, passing off to the next person, and about how I went to the Townsend well right after you did?”
“Okay, now you’re bullshitting again. Are you trying to tell me that you had a baby? Like, you actually physically were pregnant with him?”
“No, I’ve been lazing around in a shitty hotel for three weeks because the TV reception here is so good.”
“Oh, my god, you really did have him.” Amanda covered her mouth. “That’s what that whole bit was about you being sick. Fuck, Dean, I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Don’t be. We like having John Ryan around. It wasn’t like either of us was going to get any children the usual way.”
“Why not? If it’s any of my business.”
“It’s not,” Sam started to say, but Dean held up his hand and cut him off.
“Because I’m with Sam,” Dean said. “He’s the father.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. Dean had just admitted their relationship, and to someone who could barely be called an acquaintance. He finally picked up his jaw and stretched his mouth into a smile.
“I knew it!” Amanda said. “I knew you two were sleeping together. I could kinda just tell. The whole brothers story? Didn’t fly. Hey... is it all right if I hold him?”
Dean hesitantly passed Johnny to Amanda. “Hold his head up,” he instructed.
“I know. I used to baby-sit for my cousins when I was a teenager.” She ticked Johnny under his chin. “Who’s a cute little boy? Who’s a little darlin’? Is it you? Yes, it is!”
Dean rolled his eyes, but he chuckled, and Sam hovered nearby, ready to catch Johnny if Amanda lost her hold on him. She returned him to Dean and stood up. “He’s already curious, looking around at everything. You’re going to have your hands full with him,” she said. “Anyway, like I said, I can’t stay. I’m flying out to Mexico and have to get to the airport. The doctor said to wait a few more weeks, but I’m bored and frustrated with strangers getting up in my face all the time, it’s getting cold, and it’ll be easier for me to escape the press for awhile there. Nice weather, too. I’ll be staying with my grandmother for a couple of months, since she has a winter home about thirty miles from Puerto Vallarta.”
“Isn’t it going to be expensive?” Sam asked, before he realized how silly a question that was.
“Sam, the cost of living isn't as high there, and I’m worth forty million right now,” she said. “Even if I don’t ever put out another album, I’m set for life, as long as I don’t do something stupid. Like buy an island or visit Mars. If you want to come out to the airport and see me off, though, that would be okay. I don’t think anybody knows I’m going except the airline and my grandmother, so if they didn’t say anything, then we won’t be harassed.”
“Did you need a ride?”
“No. The Super Shuttle is outside waiting for me. I paid the driver extra to take me here first and let me visit. I just... I fucking hate flying. It’s the worst part of this whole gig, really. Usually we “ I “ could just travel with a van, but sometimes I have to get somewhere fast, and it sucks. And I can’t even bring a forty on the plane with me because of the stupid security regulations. Like I’m going to hijack a plane with Bud Light.”
Dean grinned at her. “I don’t like flying much either,” he said. “Tell you what. Tell the shuttle guy to leave, and we’ll take you to the airport. We got the car back from the cleaners three days ago, and I’m dying to get out of here for a little while.”
Amanda accepted the offer, and they reached the Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport twenty minutes later. She excused herself after checking in her luggage, to place a phone call and use her laptop, and then she sat just outside the airport, near the shuttle bus stop. Sam and Amanda traded stories about Jessica and Melissa, and Dean walked Johnny around and showed him the planes that were coming in and leaving.
A small green car pulled up to the curb and another girl, with bobbed red hair, came out. Amanda went up to her and said, “Thanks, Nikki. I’m sorry about the short notice.”
“It’s no problem,” Nikki said. “The tips blow on Wednesday afternoons anyway.” She gave Amanda a small envelope and drove off after they said their goodbyes.
“Nikki is another old friend of mine,” Amanda explained to Sam and Dean, and handed Sam the envelope. “She’s a server over at Carino’s not far from where you were staying. I, uh, placed an order over the Internet for a Visa gift card for you guys, and had her bring it over. It’s for thirty. That should help you out some. You just run it like a credit card anywhere that takes Visa or Mastercard.”
Dean forced a smile. Thirty dollars was better than nothing, but it wouldn’t get them very far. It might be one night in a sleazy hotel, or a few packages of diapers. And to Amanda, it had to be pocket change, or more like pocket lint. “Thanks,” he said. “But we’re fine. We have the money situation under control.”
“Just fucking take it, okay? It’s the least I could do for you all,” she said.
“Pretty close to it.”
Sam hit Dean in the side with his elbow. “Ignore him,” he said. “Everything helps, especially now.”
“Yeah. Just wait until I’m gone before you use it, okay? Look, my plane is boarding in an hour and it’s going to take me awhile to get through security with my neck brace. I have to go.” She shook Dean’s hand and hugged Sam. “You be a good boy, now,” she said to the baby. “And you two, take it easy. You can’t go killing monsters all the time. Stop and have fun every now and then.” She waved at them and walked through the sliding doors, and was gone.
Lewisville, Texas
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sam was exhausted, and hungry, by ten-thirty. Dean was gone, shooting pool at a local sports bar and trying to earn enough money for them to get a tank of gas and some food - even though it was Monday, and the bars weren't very full. Johnny only had four diapers left, and no more formula. Sam himself had skipped dinner because they only had ten dollars, and worse, Visa was declining all of the fictional Dean Summers’ transactions. The Frank Johnson account had been sent to collections months earlier.
“Come on, we’ve got to go shopping,” he said, and bundled Johnny up in a thick sleeper and a blanket, then took him across the street and down the road a half-mile, on foot, to get to Wal-Mart.
He picked up a package of diapers, another can of formula, and a ten-pack of ramen noodles for himself and Dean. The clerk rang everything up and said, “Okay, sir, your total is seventeen dollars and forty-two cents.”
Fuck. Sam handed over the ten-dollar bill and pulled out the gift card. They’d planned to save it for an emergency, but being out of food and nearly out of everything else was an emergency.
The clerk swiped the card, completed the transaction, and then pulled off the receipt. However, he frowned at a line on the bottom of it and picked up the wall phone next to the register. “Manager to register nine,” he called out.
Sam waited tensely, bouncing his crying son, while the manager and clerk whispered something about fraudulent cards, and the manager left with the receipt and his card. He wanted to explain that he didn’t make it, that it was a gift from someone else and if it was fake then it wasn’t his fault, but he kept his mouth shut and waited for the manager to come back.
“I’m sorry for the delay,” she said. “We just had to verify something about your card. Everything is fine.”
“Thanks. Someone else gave that card to me,” Sam took the bag that the clerk held out to him.
“You’ve got a good friend,” said the clerk. “Your remaining balance is twenty-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-two dollars and fifty-eight cents.”
“Huh? It should be twenty-two fifty-eight. She said it was thirty... oh.” Sam started to laugh. “Can you hold the bag for me up here? I have to pick up a few more things.”
*
Dean managed to bring home a hundred and fifty dollars that night, and he and Sam shared a six-pack after they put their very sleepy baby in his crib. Some of the pressure was off; Dean declared he felt better, back on his game, and they had something to fall back on if their usual methods of getting money didn’t work. He kissed Sam, then stripped down to shorts to sleep and climbed into bed. Sam realized that Dean hadn’t gone to bed without a shirt in months.
Sam had almost forgotten how much he liked to prop himself up on his elbow and watch Dean sleep. Almost. And any small gaps in his memory were quickly filled in when Dean closed his eyes and turned his head on the pillow, peaceful and quiet. For all of about a minute. Then Sam was next to him, and in another two minutes they were pressed together, surrendering to each other for the first time in four months.
Afterwards, Sam curled up, sated and a little bit sore, and he rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Love you, Dean,” he whispered.
“Oh, yeah?” Dean twisted his head around and looked right into Sam’s eyes. “Love you too.”
Those words were like a sweet lullaby to Sam.
Gainesville, Texas
Thursday, November 29, 2007
They were on their way north, towards a graveyard in Nebraska that had claimed the lives of two people wandering through it at night. The victims were found in the morning, heads torn open, brains crudely removed and gone. Zombies. A good, straightforward project to start out with as they got back to work.
Sam sat in the back seat and opened up a book of blank, lined pages, bound in blue-dyed leather. He turned to the second page “ the first one was full “ and started writing. He’d gotten midway through the third sentence when he felt that somebody was watching him, and he looked up into the mirror.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked.
“Writing.”
“Thanks for clearing that up. I thought you were making a quilt. What are you writing?”
“Just some stuff about what we’re doing, that’s all.”
Dean reached towards the book, and Sam reluctantly handed it over. Then Dean balanced the open book on his legs and steered with one hand. “Baby’s First Road Trip? Sam, what the fuck is this?”
“It’s a book for Johnny,” Sam sheepishly explained. “Since we don’t keep photo albums or anything like that. I thought it would be a good idea to write a little bit about his milestones.”
“Don’t those books usually have stuff more like ‘first tooth’ and ‘first word’?”
“He’s four weeks old. He doesn’t have any teeth yet.” Sam sighed. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Uh... no. Not if you want to do it.” Dean shrugged and handed the book back. Sam pretended not to notice when Dean mussed Johnny’s thin hair and made silly faces at the gurgling infant.
November 29, 2007 - Baby’s First Road Trip
Dean is all better now, so we’re leaving Texas and going to Hastings, Nebraska to find some zombies. I’m not big enough to help, but I get to go with Dean and Sam anyway and soon they’ll start teaching me what to do. My car seat is heavy because they drilled out holes in the frame and packed it full of herbs and ground-up crystals that keep spirits away. I’ll wear pendants in a few years, but now I just have symbols painted on my sleeper with t-shirt paint and special ink. Sam is letting me ride shotgun until we stop for lunch, so I can have some time with Dean, and Sam can write for me, since I don’t know how yet. Grandpa is out on a big project, looking for a demon. When I’m bigger, there will be three generations of us - saving people, hunting things, carrying on the family business. Right now, though, I just want to take a nap. They don’t mind. I might have hunting in my blood but I still get to be a kid for awhile.
My daddies love me and they’ll keep me safe, and some day I’ll help them protect everybody like they protect me.
[Reviews - 5] [Kudos - 251]
Download story PDF format or ePUB format or MOBI format
Table of Contents
Download story PDF format or ePUB format or MOBI format
Table of Contents