Somewhere Back of the Sun - Chapter 13
Sep. 7th, 2010 08:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enigmaticblueWherein Sam finally begins to settle down, and old patterns are repeated.
Chapter 13: Rural South Dakota, mid-summer 2016
Sam watched the flames of the bonfire flare, the crackle and pop of burning logs warring with the sound of the kids playing a game of night tag in the clearing. Sam had followed Cas and Ben out to a place near the creek where the trees opened up to wide sky.
This was where they did most of their fishing, Cas had told him as they’d dug out the sod in a wide circle, wanting to prevent any sparks from catching. Sam didn’t know much about fishing, but he thought this would probably be a good spot, where the creek bent back, so the water ran slow and deepened.
Sam was full on sausages and potatoes roasted in their jackets in the hot ashes, and now on ice cream and cake. He let the warmth from the fire wash over him, and glanced at Cas and Dean out of the corner of his eye. They were sitting off to the side, dimly lit by the flames, heads bent close together.
He couldn’t quite get over how good they were together, how comfortable Dean was with Cas, how comfortable Cas seemed inside his own skin in comparison to the way he’d been when Sam had first met him. At the moment, Sam didn’t know whether to be grateful that there had been someone who had Dean’s back for the last decade, or angry that it had been Cas.
He recognized the anger, though, and pushed it aside. Sam had been angry his entire life, but in this case, he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.
“Hey.” Ben plopped down next to Sam, interrupting the cycle of self-recrimination before it had a chance to begin. “What’s up?”
“Just watching the fire.”
Ben grinned at him. “Isn’t it awesome? Dad and Cas do it every couple of months as long as it’s warm enough.”
“And when it’s not warm enough?”
“We find other stuff to do,” Ben replied. “We do a lot of our schoolwork in the winter, since there’s not much to do outside.”
They both looked away, momentarily distracted by the puppy barking wildly, chasing Henry as he chased a laughing Casey. “What did you guys decide to name the dog?”
Ben grinned. “Cora wants to name her Princess, which Henry vetoed. He’s campaigning hard for Laura, although God knows why.”
“Not Laura,” Sam blurted out before he could think better of it. “I just—not that name.”
Ben shot him a look, his forehead creased with concern. “Yeah, okay. I wanted to name her Scout, anyway.”
“To Kill a Mockingbird?” Sam questioned.
“That’s right. Plus, she’s a hunting dog. That’s what she’s supposed to do, right?”
Sam was impressed that Ben had read the book. “What are the schools like out here?”
Ben snorted. “Non-existent. Julia helps, and Cas has a lot of Bobby’s old books. The town library has a lot of the classics, but we don’t get new books very often.”
“I’ve got a few in my car,” Sam offered. “You could go through, see if anything strikes your interest.”
Ben grinned. “Mary would be thrilled. She and Henry like to read a lot, anytime they’ve got the time. I’ll read what Cas asks me to, but that’s about it. Dad keeps telling me that Mom would want me to get my education—what I can, anyway.”
“He’s probably right,” Sam replied.
“You knew her?”
“Briefly.” Sam swallowed. “She was a good woman.”
Ben nodded. “She really was.”
Mary appeared next to Ben, shaking his shoulder and pointing toward the creek, her hands beginning to fly as soon as she had his attention.
“Swimming?” Ben asked with a grin.
She nodded, her hands going to the waist of her jeans. Sam glanced away, uncomfortable watching her strip, even though the pair of underwear she wore underneath were more modest than some of the bikinis Sam had seen girls wear.
Sam realized that the other kids were already shucking out of their clothing, stripping down to underwear with a lack of modesty that spoke of habit and comfort.
Casey hesitated, waiting until all of the other kids were in the creek, before she dropped her jeans and waded in wearing just her oversized t-shirt.
“Casey, you know how to swim?” Dean called out.
She gave an eloquent shrug in the dim light afforded by the half-moon and the bonfire. “Sort of.”
“Stay right there,” Dean called. He stripped down to his boxer-briefs and waded in after her. “Okay, first lesson is how to float.”
Sam remembered that first lesson—Dean had been the one to teach him, how to move his legs and arms together, how to not drown when in deep water.
“Sammy!” Dean called out. “Get down here!”
Sam hesitated, but then muttered, “What the hell?”
The water was cold; there was enough shade overhanging the bend in the creek to prevent the sun from heating it too much. Cora was splashing in the shallows, kicking water at Ryan, who laughed and dodged. Casey was trying to float, Dean holding her up and coaching her into relaxing.
Cas swept in, grabbing Cora under his arm and swinging her around as she shrieked happily while Ben and Mary waded out into the deeper water.
For a moment, Sam stood on the bank, just watching, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. He’d forgotten how to play what seemed like a hundred years ago now, and he had no idea how to begin.
“Sam, come on!” Ben shouted. “Come on!”
Sam shrugged and strode in, letting Ben duck him, because he knew it would thrill the boy. Mary joined Ben, hanging off of Sam’s left arm, her mouth opened in silent howls of laughter. Henry jumped in, and Sam went down again under a tangle of limbs.
For a moment—for one glorious, incandescent moment—Sam forgot everything he’d ever done. Everything he’d had to do in order to survive. It all washed away under cool, muddy water, and Sam rose up, wrestling Ben under, releasing him under the onslaught of Henry and Mary, laughing and gasping, and trying not to swallow water.
Sam tossed Henry up, into the air, sending him splashing into the water ten feet away. Henry went down in a flail of coltish limbs and happy shouts.
“Sam!”
Sam looked up and saw Cas swinging Cora, and he heard her high-pitched giggles. He opened his arms and watched as Cas swung her up and around, sending her small body hurtling toward him. She stretched out her arms, a wide smile on her face, and Sam plucked her out of the air and swung her around as she laughed madly.
And for one brilliant moment, Sam felt as though he was home.
~~~~~
Dean didn’t drive the Impala all that often these days—he loved her too much to risk her on the roads riddled with potholes. Plus, she used more gas than they usually had, when the Willys would carry more kids and supplies.
Still, Dean tried to spend time every week making sure she didn’t feel too neglected.
Leaning over the hood, Dean rubbed wax over the paint. She might not get out much, but Dean had every intention of keeping her protected.
“I didn’t know you still had it.”
Dean didn’t look up. “What? You think I’d get rid of her?”
“No, I just…” Sam stepped into the barn, leaning up against the wall on the other side of the car. “I hadn’t really seen it.”
“I take care of her,” Dean replied. “I don’t trust the roads around here.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, they’re pretty bad.”
“Ben learned to drive in this car,” Dean said. “I figured it was tradition.”
“How was he the first time?”
“I didn’t yell at him nearly as much as Dad yelled at you.” Dean grinned at the memory. “Just before he made me teach you.”
Sam laughed. “In my defense, the stop sign was covered by tree branches.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Dude, you were trying to change the radio station to some top 40 crap.”
“It’s not crap.”
“That’s what you think.” Dean smirked over the old argument. “You’re never gonna win that one, Sam.”
“I know.”
The silence hung between them, and Dean focused on the smell of wax, the way the light fell across the black paint on the hood of the Impala, the pleasant ache in his muscles that came from the morning’s chores.
Sam broke the silence first, clearing his throat. “Howl said he could offer me a job.”
“Howl’s a good man,” Dean replied evenly. “And he’d be a fair boss.”
“What exactly does he do?” Sam asked.
“Mostly, he raises cattle and sheep, plus a few alpaca.” Dean glanced up. “He breeds hunting dogs, too, but you knew that.”
Sam nodded, and Dean could read unhappiness in the twist of his mouth and the tense set of his shoulders. He found it strange that he had no idea what Sam had been doing for the better part of the last decade, had no idea who his brother even was these days—and yet he could still read Sam like a book.
“Do you mind?” Sam finally asked.
Dean didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t understand. “Of course not.”
“I just—I don’t want to step on any toes here,” Sam said awkwardly.
Dean sighed. “We already had this conversation, Sam. You’re family, and family is always welcome.”
“Okay. If you don’t mind, I think I might walk down to Howl’s.”
“Take one of the bikes,” Dean suggested. “Howl’s likely to put you to work immediately, and you’ll be too tired to walk back.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sam bristled. “I can take care of myself.”
“Fine. Don’t take the bike. I was just trying to be nice. Jesus, Sam.”
Dean saw Sam squinting at him as though trying to gauge Dean’s sincerity, as though he suspected Dean was trying to order him around
Old patterns, Dean thought. Old patterns that didn’t fit who they were now.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Sam turned on his heel and stalked out of the barn, leaving Dean to stare after him, wondering whether he’d fucked this up.
Dean ran a hand over his beard, suddenly bone-weary. He slumped against the hood of the Impala, pressing a hand against the cool metal. Of all of them, Dean thought, the Impala was the only one to come through the apocalypse unscathed.
“Dad?”
Ben’s voice broke through Dean’s thoughts. “Yeah, son?”
“You okay?”
“Just tired.” Dean stood up straight. “What’s up?”
“Sam just took off on one of the bikes,” Ben replied. “He didn’t stop.”
“He’s going to see Howl about a job.” Dean began putting the wax and soft cloths away. “You want to take her out for a spin?”
Ben smiled, but his expression held a hint of reserve. “Yeah, okay. Are you sure everything is all right?”
“Just fine,” Dean assured him, fishing the keys out from under the driver’s side mat and tossing them towards Ben. “Is Cas inside?”
“Henry, Casey, and Ryan are reading, Cora’s down for a nap, and Mary’s doing some mending.” Ben slid behind the wheel. “Cas is inside, keeping an eye on things. We should be good to go.”
Dean slid the barn door back, then climbed into the passenger side. “All right, son. Let’s make sure she’s still in shape.”
~~~~~
Sam cursed himself as soon as he got out on the road. Dean had been offering, and he was better acquainted with the roads and the distance to Howl’s. Now that Sam was halfway in between the two, he realized that Dean had been right. Walking would have been possible, but he still hadn’t quite recovered all of his strength after Los Angeles.
Dean was looking out for him, just like he always had, and Sam had to admit—if only to himself—that it had been far too long since anyone had had his back.
The trip to Howl’s took a fraction of the time on the bike, and it left plenty of daylight—something else Dean had probably considered.
Howl came out of a nearby barn to greet Sam, wiping dirty hands on a red rag that he tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. His tanned, weathered face creased as he smiled a welcome. “Sam. Good to see you.”
“Thought I’d take you up on your offer,” Sam said, putting down the kickstand and parking the bike. “I’d like to contribute.”
“And that’s a credit to you,” Howl replied. “Come on, I’ll show you around the place, and you can help me sling some bales of hay, if you don’t mind starting right away.”
“Dean said you might.” Sam followed Howl as he walked around the barn to the corral.
“I keep the alpacas and a couple of horses here.” Howl leaned against the split rail fence. “The alpacas are good for wool, and I got them cheap from someone who was leaving the area and wanted to get rid of them.”
Sam watched the four alpacas as they grazed, stretching out their necks and chewing slowly, their long faces placid. Both horses had turned to look at them as they approached, and they began trotting over, nosing Howl’s shoulder and arm when they stopped in front of him.
“They’re good animals, and sometimes I’ll ride Buck here into town to save on the gas.” Howl patted the neck of the dapple-gray, and nodded towards chestnut gelding. “Roper there would probably be big enough to hold you if you’re interested. Know how to ride?”
“Never had the chance to learn,” Sam replied.
Howl smiled. “Not too much of a surprise there. You’ve spent most of your life in cities, haven’t you?”
“Or on the road,” Sam replied. “But yeah.”
Howl smiled. “We’ll get you up to speed.”
Sam followed him around the farm and tried not to let his ignorance show too much. Howl hadn’t been wrong; Sam was an urbanite, and he felt like a fish out of water here.
“Thought I’d leave this place to my kids,” Howl said conversationally as they tossed hay bales into the back of an ancient pickup. “They left for the city years ago, though.”
Sam had heard far too many stories like that, but he felt compelled to ask, “Have you heard from them since?”
“Sure,” Howl replied. “My son is a doctor, and there are still jobs for folks like that. Told him he could come back here, but not everybody likes living in the middle of nowhere. My daughter, though, I haven’t heard from her in a long time. She was in New York last time I got a letter from her, but it’s been years.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We all lost family in that mess, boy,” Howl replied without heat. He climbed behind the wheel, and Sam slid into the passenger seat. “Speaking of family, your brother has been a real godsend.”
“Yeah?”
“He and Cas are good at fixing things—cars, people, even situations. I called Bobby for help when we had that little problem with the lamia. He knew Shep—he’s the one who owned the house Dean’s in now—and Bobby sent Dean and Cas out here to help us deal with it.” Howl glanced over at him. “But you know all this.”
Sam swallowed. “No, I don’t. Please.”
Howl nodded. “They came in, killed the thing that was going after what few kids we had, and settled in. And then they kept fixing things.”
“I never knew,” Sam said quietly. “I—is there—” He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts, not wanting to give too much away. Howl knew so much about Dean, about Cas, about the last few years of their lives. He could ask for information, maybe without Dean knowing, and he could get a glimpse inside Dean’s life.
Maybe he could figure out where he fit in all of this.
“Let me tell you about the first time your brother got on a horse,” Howl said, as though he’d read Sam’s mind.
Sam leaned back in the passenger seat, and listened, thirsty for knowledge and grateful that someone was willing to slake that thirst.
Chapter 13: Rural South Dakota, mid-summer 2016
Sam watched the flames of the bonfire flare, the crackle and pop of burning logs warring with the sound of the kids playing a game of night tag in the clearing. Sam had followed Cas and Ben out to a place near the creek where the trees opened up to wide sky.
This was where they did most of their fishing, Cas had told him as they’d dug out the sod in a wide circle, wanting to prevent any sparks from catching. Sam didn’t know much about fishing, but he thought this would probably be a good spot, where the creek bent back, so the water ran slow and deepened.
Sam was full on sausages and potatoes roasted in their jackets in the hot ashes, and now on ice cream and cake. He let the warmth from the fire wash over him, and glanced at Cas and Dean out of the corner of his eye. They were sitting off to the side, dimly lit by the flames, heads bent close together.
He couldn’t quite get over how good they were together, how comfortable Dean was with Cas, how comfortable Cas seemed inside his own skin in comparison to the way he’d been when Sam had first met him. At the moment, Sam didn’t know whether to be grateful that there had been someone who had Dean’s back for the last decade, or angry that it had been Cas.
He recognized the anger, though, and pushed it aside. Sam had been angry his entire life, but in this case, he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.
“Hey.” Ben plopped down next to Sam, interrupting the cycle of self-recrimination before it had a chance to begin. “What’s up?”
“Just watching the fire.”
Ben grinned at him. “Isn’t it awesome? Dad and Cas do it every couple of months as long as it’s warm enough.”
“And when it’s not warm enough?”
“We find other stuff to do,” Ben replied. “We do a lot of our schoolwork in the winter, since there’s not much to do outside.”
They both looked away, momentarily distracted by the puppy barking wildly, chasing Henry as he chased a laughing Casey. “What did you guys decide to name the dog?”
Ben grinned. “Cora wants to name her Princess, which Henry vetoed. He’s campaigning hard for Laura, although God knows why.”
“Not Laura,” Sam blurted out before he could think better of it. “I just—not that name.”
Ben shot him a look, his forehead creased with concern. “Yeah, okay. I wanted to name her Scout, anyway.”
“To Kill a Mockingbird?” Sam questioned.
“That’s right. Plus, she’s a hunting dog. That’s what she’s supposed to do, right?”
Sam was impressed that Ben had read the book. “What are the schools like out here?”
Ben snorted. “Non-existent. Julia helps, and Cas has a lot of Bobby’s old books. The town library has a lot of the classics, but we don’t get new books very often.”
“I’ve got a few in my car,” Sam offered. “You could go through, see if anything strikes your interest.”
Ben grinned. “Mary would be thrilled. She and Henry like to read a lot, anytime they’ve got the time. I’ll read what Cas asks me to, but that’s about it. Dad keeps telling me that Mom would want me to get my education—what I can, anyway.”
“He’s probably right,” Sam replied.
“You knew her?”
“Briefly.” Sam swallowed. “She was a good woman.”
Ben nodded. “She really was.”
Mary appeared next to Ben, shaking his shoulder and pointing toward the creek, her hands beginning to fly as soon as she had his attention.
“Swimming?” Ben asked with a grin.
She nodded, her hands going to the waist of her jeans. Sam glanced away, uncomfortable watching her strip, even though the pair of underwear she wore underneath were more modest than some of the bikinis Sam had seen girls wear.
Sam realized that the other kids were already shucking out of their clothing, stripping down to underwear with a lack of modesty that spoke of habit and comfort.
Casey hesitated, waiting until all of the other kids were in the creek, before she dropped her jeans and waded in wearing just her oversized t-shirt.
“Casey, you know how to swim?” Dean called out.
She gave an eloquent shrug in the dim light afforded by the half-moon and the bonfire. “Sort of.”
“Stay right there,” Dean called. He stripped down to his boxer-briefs and waded in after her. “Okay, first lesson is how to float.”
Sam remembered that first lesson—Dean had been the one to teach him, how to move his legs and arms together, how to not drown when in deep water.
“Sammy!” Dean called out. “Get down here!”
Sam hesitated, but then muttered, “What the hell?”
The water was cold; there was enough shade overhanging the bend in the creek to prevent the sun from heating it too much. Cora was splashing in the shallows, kicking water at Ryan, who laughed and dodged. Casey was trying to float, Dean holding her up and coaching her into relaxing.
Cas swept in, grabbing Cora under his arm and swinging her around as she shrieked happily while Ben and Mary waded out into the deeper water.
For a moment, Sam stood on the bank, just watching, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. He’d forgotten how to play what seemed like a hundred years ago now, and he had no idea how to begin.
“Sam, come on!” Ben shouted. “Come on!”
Sam shrugged and strode in, letting Ben duck him, because he knew it would thrill the boy. Mary joined Ben, hanging off of Sam’s left arm, her mouth opened in silent howls of laughter. Henry jumped in, and Sam went down again under a tangle of limbs.
For a moment—for one glorious, incandescent moment—Sam forgot everything he’d ever done. Everything he’d had to do in order to survive. It all washed away under cool, muddy water, and Sam rose up, wrestling Ben under, releasing him under the onslaught of Henry and Mary, laughing and gasping, and trying not to swallow water.
Sam tossed Henry up, into the air, sending him splashing into the water ten feet away. Henry went down in a flail of coltish limbs and happy shouts.
“Sam!”
Sam looked up and saw Cas swinging Cora, and he heard her high-pitched giggles. He opened his arms and watched as Cas swung her up and around, sending her small body hurtling toward him. She stretched out her arms, a wide smile on her face, and Sam plucked her out of the air and swung her around as she laughed madly.
And for one brilliant moment, Sam felt as though he was home.
~~~~~
Dean didn’t drive the Impala all that often these days—he loved her too much to risk her on the roads riddled with potholes. Plus, she used more gas than they usually had, when the Willys would carry more kids and supplies.
Still, Dean tried to spend time every week making sure she didn’t feel too neglected.
Leaning over the hood, Dean rubbed wax over the paint. She might not get out much, but Dean had every intention of keeping her protected.
“I didn’t know you still had it.”
Dean didn’t look up. “What? You think I’d get rid of her?”
“No, I just…” Sam stepped into the barn, leaning up against the wall on the other side of the car. “I hadn’t really seen it.”
“I take care of her,” Dean replied. “I don’t trust the roads around here.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, they’re pretty bad.”
“Ben learned to drive in this car,” Dean said. “I figured it was tradition.”
“How was he the first time?”
“I didn’t yell at him nearly as much as Dad yelled at you.” Dean grinned at the memory. “Just before he made me teach you.”
Sam laughed. “In my defense, the stop sign was covered by tree branches.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Dude, you were trying to change the radio station to some top 40 crap.”
“It’s not crap.”
“That’s what you think.” Dean smirked over the old argument. “You’re never gonna win that one, Sam.”
“I know.”
The silence hung between them, and Dean focused on the smell of wax, the way the light fell across the black paint on the hood of the Impala, the pleasant ache in his muscles that came from the morning’s chores.
Sam broke the silence first, clearing his throat. “Howl said he could offer me a job.”
“Howl’s a good man,” Dean replied evenly. “And he’d be a fair boss.”
“What exactly does he do?” Sam asked.
“Mostly, he raises cattle and sheep, plus a few alpaca.” Dean glanced up. “He breeds hunting dogs, too, but you knew that.”
Sam nodded, and Dean could read unhappiness in the twist of his mouth and the tense set of his shoulders. He found it strange that he had no idea what Sam had been doing for the better part of the last decade, had no idea who his brother even was these days—and yet he could still read Sam like a book.
“Do you mind?” Sam finally asked.
Dean didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t understand. “Of course not.”
“I just—I don’t want to step on any toes here,” Sam said awkwardly.
Dean sighed. “We already had this conversation, Sam. You’re family, and family is always welcome.”
“Okay. If you don’t mind, I think I might walk down to Howl’s.”
“Take one of the bikes,” Dean suggested. “Howl’s likely to put you to work immediately, and you’ll be too tired to walk back.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sam bristled. “I can take care of myself.”
“Fine. Don’t take the bike. I was just trying to be nice. Jesus, Sam.”
Dean saw Sam squinting at him as though trying to gauge Dean’s sincerity, as though he suspected Dean was trying to order him around
Old patterns, Dean thought. Old patterns that didn’t fit who they were now.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Sam turned on his heel and stalked out of the barn, leaving Dean to stare after him, wondering whether he’d fucked this up.
Dean ran a hand over his beard, suddenly bone-weary. He slumped against the hood of the Impala, pressing a hand against the cool metal. Of all of them, Dean thought, the Impala was the only one to come through the apocalypse unscathed.
“Dad?”
Ben’s voice broke through Dean’s thoughts. “Yeah, son?”
“You okay?”
“Just tired.” Dean stood up straight. “What’s up?”
“Sam just took off on one of the bikes,” Ben replied. “He didn’t stop.”
“He’s going to see Howl about a job.” Dean began putting the wax and soft cloths away. “You want to take her out for a spin?”
Ben smiled, but his expression held a hint of reserve. “Yeah, okay. Are you sure everything is all right?”
“Just fine,” Dean assured him, fishing the keys out from under the driver’s side mat and tossing them towards Ben. “Is Cas inside?”
“Henry, Casey, and Ryan are reading, Cora’s down for a nap, and Mary’s doing some mending.” Ben slid behind the wheel. “Cas is inside, keeping an eye on things. We should be good to go.”
Dean slid the barn door back, then climbed into the passenger side. “All right, son. Let’s make sure she’s still in shape.”
~~~~~
Sam cursed himself as soon as he got out on the road. Dean had been offering, and he was better acquainted with the roads and the distance to Howl’s. Now that Sam was halfway in between the two, he realized that Dean had been right. Walking would have been possible, but he still hadn’t quite recovered all of his strength after Los Angeles.
Dean was looking out for him, just like he always had, and Sam had to admit—if only to himself—that it had been far too long since anyone had had his back.
The trip to Howl’s took a fraction of the time on the bike, and it left plenty of daylight—something else Dean had probably considered.
Howl came out of a nearby barn to greet Sam, wiping dirty hands on a red rag that he tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. His tanned, weathered face creased as he smiled a welcome. “Sam. Good to see you.”
“Thought I’d take you up on your offer,” Sam said, putting down the kickstand and parking the bike. “I’d like to contribute.”
“And that’s a credit to you,” Howl replied. “Come on, I’ll show you around the place, and you can help me sling some bales of hay, if you don’t mind starting right away.”
“Dean said you might.” Sam followed Howl as he walked around the barn to the corral.
“I keep the alpacas and a couple of horses here.” Howl leaned against the split rail fence. “The alpacas are good for wool, and I got them cheap from someone who was leaving the area and wanted to get rid of them.”
Sam watched the four alpacas as they grazed, stretching out their necks and chewing slowly, their long faces placid. Both horses had turned to look at them as they approached, and they began trotting over, nosing Howl’s shoulder and arm when they stopped in front of him.
“They’re good animals, and sometimes I’ll ride Buck here into town to save on the gas.” Howl patted the neck of the dapple-gray, and nodded towards chestnut gelding. “Roper there would probably be big enough to hold you if you’re interested. Know how to ride?”
“Never had the chance to learn,” Sam replied.
Howl smiled. “Not too much of a surprise there. You’ve spent most of your life in cities, haven’t you?”
“Or on the road,” Sam replied. “But yeah.”
Howl smiled. “We’ll get you up to speed.”
Sam followed him around the farm and tried not to let his ignorance show too much. Howl hadn’t been wrong; Sam was an urbanite, and he felt like a fish out of water here.
“Thought I’d leave this place to my kids,” Howl said conversationally as they tossed hay bales into the back of an ancient pickup. “They left for the city years ago, though.”
Sam had heard far too many stories like that, but he felt compelled to ask, “Have you heard from them since?”
“Sure,” Howl replied. “My son is a doctor, and there are still jobs for folks like that. Told him he could come back here, but not everybody likes living in the middle of nowhere. My daughter, though, I haven’t heard from her in a long time. She was in New York last time I got a letter from her, but it’s been years.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We all lost family in that mess, boy,” Howl replied without heat. He climbed behind the wheel, and Sam slid into the passenger seat. “Speaking of family, your brother has been a real godsend.”
“Yeah?”
“He and Cas are good at fixing things—cars, people, even situations. I called Bobby for help when we had that little problem with the lamia. He knew Shep—he’s the one who owned the house Dean’s in now—and Bobby sent Dean and Cas out here to help us deal with it.” Howl glanced over at him. “But you know all this.”
Sam swallowed. “No, I don’t. Please.”
Howl nodded. “They came in, killed the thing that was going after what few kids we had, and settled in. And then they kept fixing things.”
“I never knew,” Sam said quietly. “I—is there—” He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts, not wanting to give too much away. Howl knew so much about Dean, about Cas, about the last few years of their lives. He could ask for information, maybe without Dean knowing, and he could get a glimpse inside Dean’s life.
Maybe he could figure out where he fit in all of this.
“Let me tell you about the first time your brother got on a horse,” Howl said, as though he’d read Sam’s mind.
Sam leaned back in the passenger seat, and listened, thirsty for knowledge and grateful that someone was willing to slake that thirst.
