Black Regalia (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} black_regalia) wrote,@ 2008-08-15 20:15:00 |
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[Fic] "Something Blue" (Supernatural; PG-13)
Title: Something Blue
Author:black_regalia - all other fic here
Series: Supernatural
Pairings/Characters: Sam, Dean, Rebecca, OCs; no pairings
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Word Count: 5,367
Spoilers: 1x07 - Skin. Takes place about ten years in the future, but contains no real reference to seasons two or three.
Summary: Kathy Dunstan is getting married, but there is one guest in particular who's been on her mind.
baileytc killed her sensei in a duel and never said why. But she beta'ed this fic for me because she's awesome.
----
“And the eternal question…” Kathy sighed, holding her hair up off her neck as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Hair up…?” She dropped her hand, letting her hair fall down around her shoulders. “Or down?”
“My aunt had one of those…what is it, Renaissance Fair hairstylists do her hair for her wedding,” Judy chimed in. “It was really pretty.”
“Yeah, but your aunt is a crazy old cat lady,” Claire said around the flower pins in her mouth, one eyebrow raised as the others laughed. She held a bunch of fake flowers in her hands, taking pins from her mouth to group them together into the most graceful arrangements she could manage.
“Well, not anymore. She just got married.”
“Yeah, but that just makes her a married crazy old cat lady," Kathy quipped.
Judy shoved Kathy’s shoulder, and Kathy dropped the pearls she’d been attempting to put on. She laughed as she reached down to pick them up.
“You should get it curled.” Rebecca stood behind her, playing with the bride-to-be’s hair once she sat back up. “You have great hair. Mine’s always so dead straight. I can’t do anything with it.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to hear it from the person who’s, like, fifty pounds lighter than I am.”
“Oh god, can we just not be girls for a moment?” A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway, holding a bulky-looking clothing bag.
“Cynth! You got the dress!” Kathy said with relief, her shoulders slumping a little. It seemed that just about anything was stressing her out these days, even the idea of someone transporting her dress from the bridal store to here.
“I got the dress,” Cynthia responded with an easy, lopsided smile. “Who’s the best bridesmaid?”
“You are, of course.” Kathy got up, moving over to give Cynthia a kiss on the cheek. “Now you gotta help me get into it.”
“Kat, it’s gonna take all six of us to get you into that poofball,” Rebecca said with an arched eyebrow. “You know, for a woman so concerned with her weight, you sure picked the dress that’d make you look as fat as possible.” She made a face, trying to sort out the bottom from the top of the dress, a mess of chiffon.
“You’re such a bitch.” Kathy stumbled slightly as she pulled off her shoes, muttering the phrase unconcernedly. Denise was sitting on the floor over by the dresser, working on her own little project and just generally being in the way of everyone in the small room. Kathy had to do her best to avoid Denise as she stepped into the hoop skirt.
“You need some help with that?” Raquel asked, nodding to Rebecca, who was still struggling with the dress.
“No. No, I think I got it…” Rebecca’s brow was furrowed as she found yet another strap, this one to go around some mysterious piece of anatomy.
“You are such a dumb blonde,” Kathy tsked, moving to help Rebecca sort it out.
“You two are horrible to each other,” Cynthia sighed, but sounded like she was used to it.
“Kat,” Claire said tiredly, plopping her tired arms down after she finished yet another bouquet. “Seriously, we couldn’t have hired someone to do this flower shit? I swear, I'm not doing this right.”
“No, here—” Rebecca mumbled, shifting around and trying to get Kathy into the wedding dress properly.
“Claire, they look fine,” Kathy insisted, trying to step where Rebecca instructed. “Will and I can’t afford to hire someone for the flowers. We have some three zillion people showing up for this thing, and all our money has gone into the food and the booze.”
Claire sighed dramatically but picked up another piece of ribbon, looping it around the stems of the silk flower arrangements and tying it off with less-than-artistic fingers. There was a growing pile of bouquets on the floor, all to be moved out onto the tables that had been placed under the huge canvas cover set up outside for the reception.
The room fell into a rare silence, save for the rustle of fabric and flowers, the seven women each working on their own project and trying to bring together a wedding made out of disapproving parents and limited funds. The peace was broken by the quietest of them all.
“Oh my god,” Denise murmured softly, holding a photo in her hand. She was surrounded by old photo albums, shoeboxes of photos, and ridiculously decorated scrapbooks, putting together some kind of slide show for the rehearsal dinner. The others looked over to her, still working on their own projects.
“What?” Cynthia asked, sewing a rather racy slit into her bridesmaid’s dress.
“Oh my god,” Denise repeated, a sad little smile coming to her lips. “Look, guys.” She turned the picture, which showed some of them during their college days. Claire, Judy, and Cynthia weren’t in the picture, but Kathy was in the front, her arm slung around the slim shoulders of a tan girl with hair in blonde ringlets, smiling irrepressibly. Behind them were Raquel hanging off the shoulders of her then-boyfriend, Rebecca with her brother giving her bunny ears, and a tall young man in the background. Denise herself had taken the snapshot.
Kathy stopped in her motions, her dress still hanging half off and her bra visible as she leaned in, peering at the photo. Her expression fell to something between fondness and regret.
“Jess…” she said, looking at the blonde she’d tossed her arm around so casually back then. If she’d known what was going to happen, the electrical fire that would end their junior year so terribly, she would have held on so much tighter. “Oh my god.” She sat down on the floor, her dress poofing out around her as she reached for the photo and held it between her hands. “I haven’t…I mean, I haven’t thought about her in so long, you know?” She grimaced, looking guilty. “I know that sounds horrible, I didn’t, I mean—”
“It’s been almost ten years, Kat,” Raquel said softly, her voice comforting. “You couldn't be expected to be thinking about her every day. None of us…” There was no good end to that sentence, so it just dangled in the air.
“I know,” Kathy murmured, sniffling a bit, running her hand under her nose. “I know, it's just…God. I thought she’d be here, you know? We pledged to the same sorority and got kicked out together.” She smiled weakly. “We were supposed to…graduate together, and be at each other’s weddings, and…have our kids have playdates and all that girly shit…”
There was a long pause, a silence where no one knew quite what to say. None of them had been as close to Jess as Kathy had, except for Rebecca, who was oddly silent in the back, looking out of the changing room they were all in at the sanctuary of the church, empty on a Tuesday afternoon.
Denise licked her lips, speaking up hesitantly.
“Do you want me to put it in the pile? For the slide show?” she asked as tenderly as she knew how.
Kathy took in a shaky breath, looked up after a moment, and shook her head, a couple of tears coming loose. She smiled again for the audience.
“No.” She laughed weakly. “No. That’s…It’s supposed to make people laugh, you know? Not cry. ’Sides, it’s supposed to be about me and Will, right? Not just…not just my friends.” She ran her fingers over the glossy paper of the photo, and her breath hitched as she looked at it. “Holy shit…Sam.”
Rebecca turned to look at her friend, her head jerking in the motion, making her blonde hair swish a little, but no one was looking at her.
“Sam?” Cynthia asked, having heard about Jess before in a few pained, drunken sentences she’d gotten out of her friends. Having met the group later in the life, she was always a little bit out of the loop when it came to their college stories. “Who’s Sam?”
“He was…he was a friend of ours in college,” Kathy said, turning to look at her friend and holding the photo up. “See? Here, standing in the back.” She pressed her finger to the photo, next to the tall young man lingering in the background of the shot. “Sam, um…Fuck, it was a— Crap. His name was really distinctive, too…”
“Winchester,” Rebecca said quietly.
“Yeah, Sam Winchester. Crap, my brain is just…” Kathy made a swirly motion next to her head, swallowing hard. She was no longer crying, but her face was still blotchy, and she kept sniffling back mucus, trying to get her voice under control. “He was our friend in college. Really…really nice guy. Kind of a weirdo. We used to make fun of him all the time in the sorority. I didn’t meet him until Jess and I got kicked out and she started hanging out with him. I was freaked at first, ‘cause…I mean, seriously. The guy looked like a serial killer.” She laughed weakly, smiling that fond smile of memory. “Always…hanging around in dark corners, just watching people, you know? But…Jess really liked him, and then we started to get to know him. I guess he was just shy or something, ‘cause he turned out to be this really great guy. He was living with Jess when she died. Police suspected him for a while, ‘cause he was in the apartment when the fire started, but it was okay.” She swallowed again, turning the picture back to herself and lowering it to her lap, looking down at it.
“It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been,” Raquel picked up as Kathy left off. She looked at Cynthia and Claire, Judy just behind her. “They didn’t find anything on him, and seriously, the guy was head over heels for Jess. We all knew he didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“So, what, you guys just stopped talking to him?” Claire asked, holding her most recent bouquet in her lap.
“No.” Raquel shook her head. “He left town. Never came back after Jess…I know,” she said, responding to the skeptical look Claire gave her. “It sounds weird, but…He was a good guy.” She shrugged.
“I should invite him,” Kathy said out of the blue, looking down at the photo.
“Huh?”
“I should invite him.” Kathy nodded firmly and looked up. “I mean…He was a really good friend of ours in college.” She looked around at her friends, looking for approval. “He should be here. I want to see him, and…and Jess…Jess would have—” She licked her lips, the room too quiet again for a moment, awkwardly so. “Becky.”
Rebecca flinched.
“You saw him, didn’t you?" Kathy turned to look at her friend. "I remember you telling me about everything that happened to Zach. Sam came to help you, right? In St. Louis?” Kathy rubbed under her nose again, taking in a deep, calming breath. It had taken a lot of talking, at the time, for Rebecca to convince them that Sam’s brother had been framed, but she had been so ardent about it that Kathy couldn’t believe it was just some kind of Stockholm Syndrome. “You know where he is? How I can contact him?”
“Kat…” Rebecca said, sounding stilted. She swallowed and rubbed her hands against the sides of her jeans. “I—I dunno if that’s such a good idea…”
“Why not?” Kathy asked hotly, obviously still too emotional to see her friend’s distress. “C’mon…I know you know where he is. Tell me—Tell me where. I just want to send him an invitation. He can say no if he wants to, right? Just…Just tell me.”
Rebecca looked down at her friend, hesitating again, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed, and she looked halfway guilty and halfway reticent. She sighed, though, finally, and moved over to her purse. She dug around for a while, looking through all the pockets of the huge thing, until she pulled out her wallet. She flipped it open and pulled a small, folded piece of paper that had been tucked into one of the card slots. She held it in her hand a moment, uncertain, then turned and walked over to Kathy, offering it to her.
“Thank you,” Kathy said gratefully. She reached up, taking the piece of paper and carefully unfolding it. It was old and worn soft, with fold lines all across it and torn in some places. The message on it was written in pen, but even so, repeated foldings and unfoldings had rubbed some of the ink away with the creases. The scrawl on it was so familiar and borderline illegible that it hit Kathy like a punch to the gut.
P.O. Box 826-2936
410 Oak Street
Blue Earth, Minnesota 30957
In case of emergency.
S.W.
----
She forgot about it, of course, once three weeks had passed and the caterers had cancelled and they’d gotten the wrong order of wine for the reception. By the time the adjustments had been made to the dress and she’d finished putting up decorations in the church and writing her vows, Kathy Dunstan (soon to be Katherine Barclay) had forgotten all about the invitation she’d sent to Sam Winchester. It’d been on her mind for the first week, but he’d never RSVPed, and eventually it had bled out into the background noise of her life.
By the time she was walking down the aisle, there was very little room left in her mind for anything other than breathe, just breathe. All she could concentrate on was not tripping and falling on her carefully coiffed and well-dressed ass. She walked behind the flower girl, her hands trembling.
Things were better when she reached the altar and Will took her from her father and smiled widely. She let out a shaky breath when she realized that neither of them was going to bolt, and tried to swallow around what felt like a ball of cotton in her mouth.
No, she didn’t think about Sam Winchester at all. Not until the priest instructed her and Will to kneel and receive communion. She turned to the side to pick up the skirts of her long dress and she glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye at the back of the sanctuary. She went still, and it almost interrupted the ceremony, until she reminded herself to keep moving and knelt on the pillowed knee stand.
He wasn’t dressed in anything fine or wedding-like, a tall figure standing out against the white walls in jeans and a bulky-looking jacket. She knew it was him, though she didn’t see him closely or for more than a second. No one else was that tall, that out of place while blending in.
She said her vows and put her ring on her husband’s finger, and Sam Winchester drifted from her mind again, just something in the sea of faces watching her but nothing in focus like Will. But it tugged at her quietly, even with all the people watching her walk down the aisle, all the people throwing flower petals over her as she ducked out of the church door, her hand tightly clasped in Will’s. It tugged at her still as they slid into the limo and one of Will’s hands came to her hip and the other to the side of her face and they kissed.
“Mrs. Kathy Barclay…” he murmured against her lips.
“I should totally have made you take my name,” she grumbled, and pulled him back in. The clatter of the cans attached to the car dragging along the pavement drowned everything else out.
----
“It was a beautiful ceremony.”
“Thank you, Ms. Deacon. I’m so glad you could make it,” Kathy said, reaching out to take the older woman’s hand in both of her own.
“It was no trouble at all.” The older woman smiled graciously, shaking Kathy’s hand unsteadily. “You know I couldn’t miss your wedding.”
“Of course—” Kathy felt her attention drawn away, her eight-year-old cousin tugging on her dress. “Hey, sweetie,” she said, crouching down to take her cousin in her arms. Everyone wanted a piece of the bride. People had told Kathy that, but she hadn’t realized just how bad it’d be. By the time she was done giving her cousin a hug, she had to go and greet Will’s aunt and uncle, who’d flown down from British Columbia and had to be paid attention to for that. After that, she had to go and make sure the band was gearing up, because they were supposed to be playing already, but her attention was snagged by Billy and Carol, and she was nothing but grateful when Will managed to snag her a glass of champagne. It was only when she lowered the glass and took a moment to breathe that she stopped.
Sam was standing at one end of the dance floor.
His hands were in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and he had that meek smile that he always wore back in college. He looked so simple and humble. At that moment, though, she saw him like some ancient statue, or less refined and more true, like a stone. He was some uncarved rock, worn down through time by rain and wind, scarred but not defeated.
He looked so old, not tired but timeless, immutable, while everyone else passed around him. There were couples and chatting groups, her older relatives and her friends from college, some toting babies . She knew they were the real ones, they were the life she knew, but in that moment they all seemed so fleeting and transitory, like ghosts made out of mist swirling around the one real thing there.
She muttered something, something like “oh my god” or possibly “I can’t believe…” but whatever it was, she didn’t finish the thought.
Kathy weaved through the crowds of people milling about under the tent, the weather grey but not damp, at least, and she moved off the hardwood floor that had been put down for dancing and into the grass.
Sam pushed himself up from where he’d been leaning against a table and made his way over to her.
“Kathy, hey…” he said, reaching out to take her in a hug. She shut her eyes tightly. “Hey, congratulations.” He tightened his arms in a brief squeeze before letting her go.
“Th-thanks,” she managed to get out, opening her eyes only to flutter her eyelids in a vain attempt to blink tears away. “Jesus…I can’t believe you came. I can’t believe you're here.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Sam drew back, his arms slipping from around her waist, and she settled back on her heels, lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes. “You alright there?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She sniffed and raised her head, looking at him properly for the first time and going still. “Oh my god, what happened?” She lifted a hand to his left cheek, where a jagged scar ran. It was old, pink and white and malformed flesh, and the scabs had fallen away a long, long time ago. It didn’t look like anyone had stitched it up, running from his temple down to his jaw, the scar tissue flipped on either side of the wound.
“Nothing.” He dismissed her concern with an easy smile. “Bar fight…My brother can piss people off really--He can piss people off, is all.”
She nodded a little, fingers tracing the scar tissue before dropping down.
“Oh, well…I’m sorry,” she tacked on, feeling a little awkward.
“Nah, it’s alright. Not a big deal.”
“If you say so…” she said, sounding doubtful. Sam Winchester was the epitome of strange, verging on otherworldly. How he could stand there, after ten years of being a missing person, and smile at her on her wedding day with a scar the size of Texas on his face, she didn’t know. She stared up at him, and he didn’t shrink under her gaze or cough uncomfortably, so she didn’t notice that they’d just been standing there for a minute or two in silence. She scrambled for something to say, some trivial piece of small talk. “So, um, what have you been up to?”
It was a stupid question.
She even visibly winced once it was out her mouth, because it was a stupid-ass question. He was clearly not living the high life; anyone could tell that. Besides the scar, he wasn’t wearing exactly wedding apparel, and he’d been missing for ten years, apparently still traveling around with his brother, who was a fugitive from the law.
She was grateful that he seemed to have retained the grace he’d always had with awkward moments.
“Nothing interesting. Still on the road with my brother.”
“Wow, still?” She didn’t think she could get any worse, but apparently her mouth was finding all-new lows.
“Yeah,” Sam said with that sheepish smile, walking towards the buffet table with her, watching as she picked up two glasses of champagne for them and deposited her empty one on the table. He took his with a grateful nod but didn’t sip from it. “It was just supposed to be a temporary thing, but…I mean, Becky told you, about, um—”
“Yeah, she told me,” Kathy hastened to confirm, not wanting him to get into any kind of trouble for coming here, given what happened in St. Louis.
“Well, there’s not a lot we can do about it.” Sam shrugged half-heartedly. Kathy wanted to ask why they couldn’t just go to the police and get it all cleared up, but she knew she’d have to take the metaphoric silver spoon out of her mouth to do so. “And our dad passed away, so…”
“Oh my god, Sam…I’m sorry. When? How?”
“Long time ago. I mean…not long after Jess. Car accident.”
She reached out and put her hand against the side of his arm, because she felt like a rich little bitch standing there in her $2,000 wedding dress under her pretty tent with all her perfect flowers. It was going to be the happiest day in her life, champagne popping around her and her gorgeous man over there waiting to feed her wedding cake like in all those cheesy movies. She’d been stressing for the last few weeks, trying to scramble to get things together. Looking at Sam now, she couldn’t believe she’d had the audacity to not view herself as privileged.
It was almost a culture shock to see someone she hadn’t seen in ten years, who clearly wasn’t married because the girl that he was supposed to marry was six feet down in the ground. A man whose father had died not long after, who had a brother wrongfully wanted for murder. Who couldn’t just go to the police and clear things up because while she had been raised to see the police as a paragon of safety and trustworthiness, it wasn’t the same for people like Sam. People who came from the heart of Kansas with the dirt still on their hands and their necks still red from the sun.
Nobody said life was fair.
But nobody had warned them just how bad it could get, either.
“Sam…”
“It’s okay, Kathy.” He smiled, shaking his head. She could see the dimple form in his right cheek as he did so, but she felt a pain in her chest to realize that the one on the left cheek had been scratched out by whatever had left the scar. “Anyways…Tell me about the groom.”
“Will?”
“Yeah, how’d you two meet?” Sam leaned back against the table, far enough on the end that he wasn’t getting in anyone’s way.
“Oh, we—Well, my office was having one of those coworker workshops. You know, trust falls and all that. Anyway, Will’s office was at the same event, and we ended up complaining to each other during the lunch break.” She laughed a little and shook her head. “It’s a kind of stupid story.”
“No,” Sam said seriously, a warm smile on his lips. “It’s not.” She looked up curiously, and saw him rapt, wanting to hear more, like it was some marvelous tale and not the mundane thing it was.
“Sam.” She smiled fondly, eyes crinkling. “I can’t believe how little you’ve changed…”
“Really?” His eyebrows rose like some inquisitive dog. “I would have thought--”
“No, you’re just the same. I mean, I never met anyone who was so genuinely interested to hear people’s stupid stories. This is the kind of stuff most people tune out. Nod their heads and say ‘uh huh.’ But you always ate this stuff up.”
Sam flushed a little and shrugged, having no words but playing it off so naturally.
“We miss you,” Kathy murmured finally. “Bad enough we don’t have Jess, but…God, we miss you, Sam. You just…vanished.”
He winced a little.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “It’s not like I don’t wanna be there—“
“You remember David? He has kids now, you know,” she said. Sam looked torn, grieved, almost. “And Lorraine?” Kathy continued. “She lives in Colorado now. She’s an advertising manager for a ski resort. Remember how good she was on the slopes? You could barely stand up in skiis”
“Kathy, I miss you guys, I do.”
“Then why haven’t you called? Visited? Anything! Even written, for Christ’s sake.” She reached out, putting her hands over his. “Sam, you just vanished. It was like you fell off the face of the earth. I lost Jess, but at least I knew why I’d lost her. You, it was just…a mystery.” She paused, looking into his eyes. For once, he was almost at eye level with her, slumped back against the table as he was. “You were always a mystery.”
Things were silent for a while, because she’d run out of words and he had no reply. Her chest felt tight, and she willed him to speak, to say anything. She just wanted to know. Something. Anything. Any piece or clue about this tall, shaggy enigma in her life.
“Kathy,” he said finally, pushing himself to stand. Her hands dropped and she felt a kind of despair in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t come to ruin your wedding day with tales of woe.” He smiled, tired and kind of sheepish, like it was all his fault. “I just wanted to come and wish you all the best.”
She knew it was a goodbye, polite and simple, and she knew she had scared him away with her concern, her wanting to know more about the ambiguous Sam Winchester. She wanted to say stay, ruin it, please, but the words stuck in her throat as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“Congratulations, Kathy. I really do wish you the best. You deserve it.”
So do you, she wanted to say, but it got caught behind that first sentence, and she watched him turn and walk away. He didn’t rush it, didn’t run away, as if he knew that she was rooted to the spot, watching him fade out again into whatever passing storm he lived in.
Will came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck and laughing. He was talking to her, and she turned her head to look at him, to offer him a small smile.
By the time she looked back, Sam was gone.
----
“Be careful,” Rebecca said, her gaze shuttered.
“I will.”
“No you won’t. Look at you,” she said, eyes misting as her voice tightened, looking at the mangled mess of skin on his face. She knew enough to imagine the nightmare thing that had caused it. She lifted a hand to cover her lips, worried and grieved at the sight of him. “You think I can rest easy, knowing what kind of terrible thing probably gave you that?”
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Sam said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she moved back from it.
“Look…Look after Dean. At least he has the sense to look out for you,” she responded finally, holding it all back. Sam smiled warmly.
“Yeah, he’s good at that.”
“You should get on the road before someone who knows just enough about you to do something idiotic calls the cops. Just…don’t go after anything too dangerous, alright?”
“That’s kind of our job, Becky.”
“Don’t ‘Becky’ me,” she shot back, but without much punch. She wiped the butt of her palm under her eyes. “Zach sends his love.”
“Yeah, only ‘cause we got him out of jail,” Sam replied with a wry smile, and she laughed weakly. “Look after yourself, Becky. I’ll see you at the next reunion, huh?”
He turned and began walking down to the parking lot, where a big black Impala was parked in the fire lane. He waved to her as he did so, looking back over his shoulder.
“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes, but she waved back. She wished she knew better what to say.
----
Dean leaned up against the side of the car, munching on the plate of hors d'oeuvres that Rebecca had stolen for him from the buffet while Sam was inside.
“Dude, your friends rock,” Dean said, popping another salmon puff in his mouth.
“You say that about anyone who brings you food,” Sam reminded him, coming down to the passenger side of the car. “Well, except me, even though I bring you food all the time.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, balling up the paper plate and napkin in his hands as he chewed. “But you just don’t have the rack.”
“Nice.” Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean moved over to the trash can on the sidewalk, tossing away the ball of garbage he’d made. He wiped his mouth on his hand, swallowing down his last mouthful, then stopped to look up the hill to where the tent had been set up for the reception. He could hear the wedding band playing some cheesy conga music and the buzz of many voices chatting and laughing, but it was distant and removed from them. He looked back over at his brother.
“You sure you’re ready to leave? I mean, we can stay…” He let his offer drift off, shrugging and gesturing half-heartedly at the reception.
“No, it’s okay, Dean.” Sam shook his head, turning around fully to lean back against the car. He tipped his head to the side, trying to find words. It took him a moment to get them out. “I just…I wanted to come.” He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. “I just need to see, is all. Every so often. I mean, Kathy’s never gonna have to know about what’s really out there. I just need to see that. The reason why we do this.” He glanced at Dean, that same little-brother need for reassurance in his expression, even though he was over thirty now, even though he was his own man.
“Yeah,” Dean said, giving that reassurance as easy as breathing. “I get that.” There was a pause, a not-uncomfortable silence while Sam looked up at the people in the pavilion, and Dean at his brother. The moment passed quickly, though, like it always did, and Dean rubbed his hands against his coat before grabbing his keys. “You ready to hit the road?”
Sam didn’t respond right away, seemingly distracted.
“Yeah,” he muttered, then seemed to register the words and straighten. “Yeah,” he said more loudly, turning around to get into his side of the car. It didn't take Dean long to start the car, still glancing over at his brother. They pulled out from the curb, and the Impala moved through the crowded parking lot, engine thrumming loudly.
Only Rebecca was watching when they drove away.
Title: Something Blue
Author:
black_regalia - all other fic hereSeries: Supernatural
Pairings/Characters: Sam, Dean, Rebecca, OCs; no pairings
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Word Count: 5,367
Spoilers: 1x07 - Skin. Takes place about ten years in the future, but contains no real reference to seasons two or three.
Summary: Kathy Dunstan is getting married, but there is one guest in particular who's been on her mind.
baileytc killed her sensei in a duel and never said why. But she beta'ed this fic for me because she's awesome.“And the eternal question…” Kathy sighed, holding her hair up off her neck as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Hair up…?” She dropped her hand, letting her hair fall down around her shoulders. “Or down?”
“My aunt had one of those…what is it, Renaissance Fair hairstylists do her hair for her wedding,” Judy chimed in. “It was really pretty.”
“Yeah, but your aunt is a crazy old cat lady,” Claire said around the flower pins in her mouth, one eyebrow raised as the others laughed. She held a bunch of fake flowers in her hands, taking pins from her mouth to group them together into the most graceful arrangements she could manage.
“Well, not anymore. She just got married.”
“Yeah, but that just makes her a married crazy old cat lady," Kathy quipped.
Judy shoved Kathy’s shoulder, and Kathy dropped the pearls she’d been attempting to put on. She laughed as she reached down to pick them up.
“You should get it curled.” Rebecca stood behind her, playing with the bride-to-be’s hair once she sat back up. “You have great hair. Mine’s always so dead straight. I can’t do anything with it.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to hear it from the person who’s, like, fifty pounds lighter than I am.”
“Oh god, can we just not be girls for a moment?” A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway, holding a bulky-looking clothing bag.
“Cynth! You got the dress!” Kathy said with relief, her shoulders slumping a little. It seemed that just about anything was stressing her out these days, even the idea of someone transporting her dress from the bridal store to here.
“I got the dress,” Cynthia responded with an easy, lopsided smile. “Who’s the best bridesmaid?”
“You are, of course.” Kathy got up, moving over to give Cynthia a kiss on the cheek. “Now you gotta help me get into it.”
“Kat, it’s gonna take all six of us to get you into that poofball,” Rebecca said with an arched eyebrow. “You know, for a woman so concerned with her weight, you sure picked the dress that’d make you look as fat as possible.” She made a face, trying to sort out the bottom from the top of the dress, a mess of chiffon.
“You’re such a bitch.” Kathy stumbled slightly as she pulled off her shoes, muttering the phrase unconcernedly. Denise was sitting on the floor over by the dresser, working on her own little project and just generally being in the way of everyone in the small room. Kathy had to do her best to avoid Denise as she stepped into the hoop skirt.
“You need some help with that?” Raquel asked, nodding to Rebecca, who was still struggling with the dress.
“No. No, I think I got it…” Rebecca’s brow was furrowed as she found yet another strap, this one to go around some mysterious piece of anatomy.
“You are such a dumb blonde,” Kathy tsked, moving to help Rebecca sort it out.
“You two are horrible to each other,” Cynthia sighed, but sounded like she was used to it.
“Kat,” Claire said tiredly, plopping her tired arms down after she finished yet another bouquet. “Seriously, we couldn’t have hired someone to do this flower shit? I swear, I'm not doing this right.”
“No, here—” Rebecca mumbled, shifting around and trying to get Kathy into the wedding dress properly.
“Claire, they look fine,” Kathy insisted, trying to step where Rebecca instructed. “Will and I can’t afford to hire someone for the flowers. We have some three zillion people showing up for this thing, and all our money has gone into the food and the booze.”
Claire sighed dramatically but picked up another piece of ribbon, looping it around the stems of the silk flower arrangements and tying it off with less-than-artistic fingers. There was a growing pile of bouquets on the floor, all to be moved out onto the tables that had been placed under the huge canvas cover set up outside for the reception.
The room fell into a rare silence, save for the rustle of fabric and flowers, the seven women each working on their own project and trying to bring together a wedding made out of disapproving parents and limited funds. The peace was broken by the quietest of them all.
“Oh my god,” Denise murmured softly, holding a photo in her hand. She was surrounded by old photo albums, shoeboxes of photos, and ridiculously decorated scrapbooks, putting together some kind of slide show for the rehearsal dinner. The others looked over to her, still working on their own projects.
“What?” Cynthia asked, sewing a rather racy slit into her bridesmaid’s dress.
“Oh my god,” Denise repeated, a sad little smile coming to her lips. “Look, guys.” She turned the picture, which showed some of them during their college days. Claire, Judy, and Cynthia weren’t in the picture, but Kathy was in the front, her arm slung around the slim shoulders of a tan girl with hair in blonde ringlets, smiling irrepressibly. Behind them were Raquel hanging off the shoulders of her then-boyfriend, Rebecca with her brother giving her bunny ears, and a tall young man in the background. Denise herself had taken the snapshot.
Kathy stopped in her motions, her dress still hanging half off and her bra visible as she leaned in, peering at the photo. Her expression fell to something between fondness and regret.
“Jess…” she said, looking at the blonde she’d tossed her arm around so casually back then. If she’d known what was going to happen, the electrical fire that would end their junior year so terribly, she would have held on so much tighter. “Oh my god.” She sat down on the floor, her dress poofing out around her as she reached for the photo and held it between her hands. “I haven’t…I mean, I haven’t thought about her in so long, you know?” She grimaced, looking guilty. “I know that sounds horrible, I didn’t, I mean—”
“It’s been almost ten years, Kat,” Raquel said softly, her voice comforting. “You couldn't be expected to be thinking about her every day. None of us…” There was no good end to that sentence, so it just dangled in the air.
“I know,” Kathy murmured, sniffling a bit, running her hand under her nose. “I know, it's just…God. I thought she’d be here, you know? We pledged to the same sorority and got kicked out together.” She smiled weakly. “We were supposed to…graduate together, and be at each other’s weddings, and…have our kids have playdates and all that girly shit…”
There was a long pause, a silence where no one knew quite what to say. None of them had been as close to Jess as Kathy had, except for Rebecca, who was oddly silent in the back, looking out of the changing room they were all in at the sanctuary of the church, empty on a Tuesday afternoon.
Denise licked her lips, speaking up hesitantly.
“Do you want me to put it in the pile? For the slide show?” she asked as tenderly as she knew how.
Kathy took in a shaky breath, looked up after a moment, and shook her head, a couple of tears coming loose. She smiled again for the audience.
“No.” She laughed weakly. “No. That’s…It’s supposed to make people laugh, you know? Not cry. ’Sides, it’s supposed to be about me and Will, right? Not just…not just my friends.” She ran her fingers over the glossy paper of the photo, and her breath hitched as she looked at it. “Holy shit…Sam.”
Rebecca turned to look at her friend, her head jerking in the motion, making her blonde hair swish a little, but no one was looking at her.
“Sam?” Cynthia asked, having heard about Jess before in a few pained, drunken sentences she’d gotten out of her friends. Having met the group later in the life, she was always a little bit out of the loop when it came to their college stories. “Who’s Sam?”
“He was…he was a friend of ours in college,” Kathy said, turning to look at her friend and holding the photo up. “See? Here, standing in the back.” She pressed her finger to the photo, next to the tall young man lingering in the background of the shot. “Sam, um…Fuck, it was a— Crap. His name was really distinctive, too…”
“Winchester,” Rebecca said quietly.
“Yeah, Sam Winchester. Crap, my brain is just…” Kathy made a swirly motion next to her head, swallowing hard. She was no longer crying, but her face was still blotchy, and she kept sniffling back mucus, trying to get her voice under control. “He was our friend in college. Really…really nice guy. Kind of a weirdo. We used to make fun of him all the time in the sorority. I didn’t meet him until Jess and I got kicked out and she started hanging out with him. I was freaked at first, ‘cause…I mean, seriously. The guy looked like a serial killer.” She laughed weakly, smiling that fond smile of memory. “Always…hanging around in dark corners, just watching people, you know? But…Jess really liked him, and then we started to get to know him. I guess he was just shy or something, ‘cause he turned out to be this really great guy. He was living with Jess when she died. Police suspected him for a while, ‘cause he was in the apartment when the fire started, but it was okay.” She swallowed again, turning the picture back to herself and lowering it to her lap, looking down at it.
“It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been,” Raquel picked up as Kathy left off. She looked at Cynthia and Claire, Judy just behind her. “They didn’t find anything on him, and seriously, the guy was head over heels for Jess. We all knew he didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“So, what, you guys just stopped talking to him?” Claire asked, holding her most recent bouquet in her lap.
“No.” Raquel shook her head. “He left town. Never came back after Jess…I know,” she said, responding to the skeptical look Claire gave her. “It sounds weird, but…He was a good guy.” She shrugged.
“I should invite him,” Kathy said out of the blue, looking down at the photo.
“Huh?”
“I should invite him.” Kathy nodded firmly and looked up. “I mean…He was a really good friend of ours in college.” She looked around at her friends, looking for approval. “He should be here. I want to see him, and…and Jess…Jess would have—” She licked her lips, the room too quiet again for a moment, awkwardly so. “Becky.”
Rebecca flinched.
“You saw him, didn’t you?" Kathy turned to look at her friend. "I remember you telling me about everything that happened to Zach. Sam came to help you, right? In St. Louis?” Kathy rubbed under her nose again, taking in a deep, calming breath. It had taken a lot of talking, at the time, for Rebecca to convince them that Sam’s brother had been framed, but she had been so ardent about it that Kathy couldn’t believe it was just some kind of Stockholm Syndrome. “You know where he is? How I can contact him?”
“Kat…” Rebecca said, sounding stilted. She swallowed and rubbed her hands against the sides of her jeans. “I—I dunno if that’s such a good idea…”
“Why not?” Kathy asked hotly, obviously still too emotional to see her friend’s distress. “C’mon…I know you know where he is. Tell me—Tell me where. I just want to send him an invitation. He can say no if he wants to, right? Just…Just tell me.”
Rebecca looked down at her friend, hesitating again, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed, and she looked halfway guilty and halfway reticent. She sighed, though, finally, and moved over to her purse. She dug around for a while, looking through all the pockets of the huge thing, until she pulled out her wallet. She flipped it open and pulled a small, folded piece of paper that had been tucked into one of the card slots. She held it in her hand a moment, uncertain, then turned and walked over to Kathy, offering it to her.
“Thank you,” Kathy said gratefully. She reached up, taking the piece of paper and carefully unfolding it. It was old and worn soft, with fold lines all across it and torn in some places. The message on it was written in pen, but even so, repeated foldings and unfoldings had rubbed some of the ink away with the creases. The scrawl on it was so familiar and borderline illegible that it hit Kathy like a punch to the gut.
P.O. Box 826-2936
410 Oak Street
Blue Earth, Minnesota 30957
In case of emergency.
S.W.
She forgot about it, of course, once three weeks had passed and the caterers had cancelled and they’d gotten the wrong order of wine for the reception. By the time the adjustments had been made to the dress and she’d finished putting up decorations in the church and writing her vows, Kathy Dunstan (soon to be Katherine Barclay) had forgotten all about the invitation she’d sent to Sam Winchester. It’d been on her mind for the first week, but he’d never RSVPed, and eventually it had bled out into the background noise of her life.
By the time she was walking down the aisle, there was very little room left in her mind for anything other than breathe, just breathe. All she could concentrate on was not tripping and falling on her carefully coiffed and well-dressed ass. She walked behind the flower girl, her hands trembling.
Things were better when she reached the altar and Will took her from her father and smiled widely. She let out a shaky breath when she realized that neither of them was going to bolt, and tried to swallow around what felt like a ball of cotton in her mouth.
No, she didn’t think about Sam Winchester at all. Not until the priest instructed her and Will to kneel and receive communion. She turned to the side to pick up the skirts of her long dress and she glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye at the back of the sanctuary. She went still, and it almost interrupted the ceremony, until she reminded herself to keep moving and knelt on the pillowed knee stand.
He wasn’t dressed in anything fine or wedding-like, a tall figure standing out against the white walls in jeans and a bulky-looking jacket. She knew it was him, though she didn’t see him closely or for more than a second. No one else was that tall, that out of place while blending in.
She said her vows and put her ring on her husband’s finger, and Sam Winchester drifted from her mind again, just something in the sea of faces watching her but nothing in focus like Will. But it tugged at her quietly, even with all the people watching her walk down the aisle, all the people throwing flower petals over her as she ducked out of the church door, her hand tightly clasped in Will’s. It tugged at her still as they slid into the limo and one of Will’s hands came to her hip and the other to the side of her face and they kissed.
“Mrs. Kathy Barclay…” he murmured against her lips.
“I should totally have made you take my name,” she grumbled, and pulled him back in. The clatter of the cans attached to the car dragging along the pavement drowned everything else out.
“It was a beautiful ceremony.”
“Thank you, Ms. Deacon. I’m so glad you could make it,” Kathy said, reaching out to take the older woman’s hand in both of her own.
“It was no trouble at all.” The older woman smiled graciously, shaking Kathy’s hand unsteadily. “You know I couldn’t miss your wedding.”
“Of course—” Kathy felt her attention drawn away, her eight-year-old cousin tugging on her dress. “Hey, sweetie,” she said, crouching down to take her cousin in her arms. Everyone wanted a piece of the bride. People had told Kathy that, but she hadn’t realized just how bad it’d be. By the time she was done giving her cousin a hug, she had to go and greet Will’s aunt and uncle, who’d flown down from British Columbia and had to be paid attention to for that. After that, she had to go and make sure the band was gearing up, because they were supposed to be playing already, but her attention was snagged by Billy and Carol, and she was nothing but grateful when Will managed to snag her a glass of champagne. It was only when she lowered the glass and took a moment to breathe that she stopped.
Sam was standing at one end of the dance floor.
His hands were in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and he had that meek smile that he always wore back in college. He looked so simple and humble. At that moment, though, she saw him like some ancient statue, or less refined and more true, like a stone. He was some uncarved rock, worn down through time by rain and wind, scarred but not defeated.
He looked so old, not tired but timeless, immutable, while everyone else passed around him. There were couples and chatting groups, her older relatives and her friends from college, some toting babies . She knew they were the real ones, they were the life she knew, but in that moment they all seemed so fleeting and transitory, like ghosts made out of mist swirling around the one real thing there.
She muttered something, something like “oh my god” or possibly “I can’t believe…” but whatever it was, she didn’t finish the thought.
Kathy weaved through the crowds of people milling about under the tent, the weather grey but not damp, at least, and she moved off the hardwood floor that had been put down for dancing and into the grass.
Sam pushed himself up from where he’d been leaning against a table and made his way over to her.
“Kathy, hey…” he said, reaching out to take her in a hug. She shut her eyes tightly. “Hey, congratulations.” He tightened his arms in a brief squeeze before letting her go.
“Th-thanks,” she managed to get out, opening her eyes only to flutter her eyelids in a vain attempt to blink tears away. “Jesus…I can’t believe you came. I can’t believe you're here.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Sam drew back, his arms slipping from around her waist, and she settled back on her heels, lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes. “You alright there?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She sniffed and raised her head, looking at him properly for the first time and going still. “Oh my god, what happened?” She lifted a hand to his left cheek, where a jagged scar ran. It was old, pink and white and malformed flesh, and the scabs had fallen away a long, long time ago. It didn’t look like anyone had stitched it up, running from his temple down to his jaw, the scar tissue flipped on either side of the wound.
“Nothing.” He dismissed her concern with an easy smile. “Bar fight…My brother can piss people off really--He can piss people off, is all.”
She nodded a little, fingers tracing the scar tissue before dropping down.
“Oh, well…I’m sorry,” she tacked on, feeling a little awkward.
“Nah, it’s alright. Not a big deal.”
“If you say so…” she said, sounding doubtful. Sam Winchester was the epitome of strange, verging on otherworldly. How he could stand there, after ten years of being a missing person, and smile at her on her wedding day with a scar the size of Texas on his face, she didn’t know. She stared up at him, and he didn’t shrink under her gaze or cough uncomfortably, so she didn’t notice that they’d just been standing there for a minute or two in silence. She scrambled for something to say, some trivial piece of small talk. “So, um, what have you been up to?”
It was a stupid question.
She even visibly winced once it was out her mouth, because it was a stupid-ass question. He was clearly not living the high life; anyone could tell that. Besides the scar, he wasn’t wearing exactly wedding apparel, and he’d been missing for ten years, apparently still traveling around with his brother, who was a fugitive from the law.
She was grateful that he seemed to have retained the grace he’d always had with awkward moments.
“Nothing interesting. Still on the road with my brother.”
“Wow, still?” She didn’t think she could get any worse, but apparently her mouth was finding all-new lows.
“Yeah,” Sam said with that sheepish smile, walking towards the buffet table with her, watching as she picked up two glasses of champagne for them and deposited her empty one on the table. He took his with a grateful nod but didn’t sip from it. “It was just supposed to be a temporary thing, but…I mean, Becky told you, about, um—”
“Yeah, she told me,” Kathy hastened to confirm, not wanting him to get into any kind of trouble for coming here, given what happened in St. Louis.
“Well, there’s not a lot we can do about it.” Sam shrugged half-heartedly. Kathy wanted to ask why they couldn’t just go to the police and get it all cleared up, but she knew she’d have to take the metaphoric silver spoon out of her mouth to do so. “And our dad passed away, so…”
“Oh my god, Sam…I’m sorry. When? How?”
“Long time ago. I mean…not long after Jess. Car accident.”
She reached out and put her hand against the side of his arm, because she felt like a rich little bitch standing there in her $2,000 wedding dress under her pretty tent with all her perfect flowers. It was going to be the happiest day in her life, champagne popping around her and her gorgeous man over there waiting to feed her wedding cake like in all those cheesy movies. She’d been stressing for the last few weeks, trying to scramble to get things together. Looking at Sam now, she couldn’t believe she’d had the audacity to not view herself as privileged.
It was almost a culture shock to see someone she hadn’t seen in ten years, who clearly wasn’t married because the girl that he was supposed to marry was six feet down in the ground. A man whose father had died not long after, who had a brother wrongfully wanted for murder. Who couldn’t just go to the police and clear things up because while she had been raised to see the police as a paragon of safety and trustworthiness, it wasn’t the same for people like Sam. People who came from the heart of Kansas with the dirt still on their hands and their necks still red from the sun.
Nobody said life was fair.
But nobody had warned them just how bad it could get, either.
“Sam…”
“It’s okay, Kathy.” He smiled, shaking his head. She could see the dimple form in his right cheek as he did so, but she felt a pain in her chest to realize that the one on the left cheek had been scratched out by whatever had left the scar. “Anyways…Tell me about the groom.”
“Will?”
“Yeah, how’d you two meet?” Sam leaned back against the table, far enough on the end that he wasn’t getting in anyone’s way.
“Oh, we—Well, my office was having one of those coworker workshops. You know, trust falls and all that. Anyway, Will’s office was at the same event, and we ended up complaining to each other during the lunch break.” She laughed a little and shook her head. “It’s a kind of stupid story.”
“No,” Sam said seriously, a warm smile on his lips. “It’s not.” She looked up curiously, and saw him rapt, wanting to hear more, like it was some marvelous tale and not the mundane thing it was.
“Sam.” She smiled fondly, eyes crinkling. “I can’t believe how little you’ve changed…”
“Really?” His eyebrows rose like some inquisitive dog. “I would have thought--”
“No, you’re just the same. I mean, I never met anyone who was so genuinely interested to hear people’s stupid stories. This is the kind of stuff most people tune out. Nod their heads and say ‘uh huh.’ But you always ate this stuff up.”
Sam flushed a little and shrugged, having no words but playing it off so naturally.
“We miss you,” Kathy murmured finally. “Bad enough we don’t have Jess, but…God, we miss you, Sam. You just…vanished.”
He winced a little.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “It’s not like I don’t wanna be there—“
“You remember David? He has kids now, you know,” she said. Sam looked torn, grieved, almost. “And Lorraine?” Kathy continued. “She lives in Colorado now. She’s an advertising manager for a ski resort. Remember how good she was on the slopes? You could barely stand up in skiis”
“Kathy, I miss you guys, I do.”
“Then why haven’t you called? Visited? Anything! Even written, for Christ’s sake.” She reached out, putting her hands over his. “Sam, you just vanished. It was like you fell off the face of the earth. I lost Jess, but at least I knew why I’d lost her. You, it was just…a mystery.” She paused, looking into his eyes. For once, he was almost at eye level with her, slumped back against the table as he was. “You were always a mystery.”
Things were silent for a while, because she’d run out of words and he had no reply. Her chest felt tight, and she willed him to speak, to say anything. She just wanted to know. Something. Anything. Any piece or clue about this tall, shaggy enigma in her life.
“Kathy,” he said finally, pushing himself to stand. Her hands dropped and she felt a kind of despair in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t come to ruin your wedding day with tales of woe.” He smiled, tired and kind of sheepish, like it was all his fault. “I just wanted to come and wish you all the best.”
She knew it was a goodbye, polite and simple, and she knew she had scared him away with her concern, her wanting to know more about the ambiguous Sam Winchester. She wanted to say stay, ruin it, please, but the words stuck in her throat as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“Congratulations, Kathy. I really do wish you the best. You deserve it.”
So do you, she wanted to say, but it got caught behind that first sentence, and she watched him turn and walk away. He didn’t rush it, didn’t run away, as if he knew that she was rooted to the spot, watching him fade out again into whatever passing storm he lived in.
Will came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck and laughing. He was talking to her, and she turned her head to look at him, to offer him a small smile.
By the time she looked back, Sam was gone.
“Be careful,” Rebecca said, her gaze shuttered.
“I will.”
“No you won’t. Look at you,” she said, eyes misting as her voice tightened, looking at the mangled mess of skin on his face. She knew enough to imagine the nightmare thing that had caused it. She lifted a hand to cover her lips, worried and grieved at the sight of him. “You think I can rest easy, knowing what kind of terrible thing probably gave you that?”
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Sam said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she moved back from it.
“Look…Look after Dean. At least he has the sense to look out for you,” she responded finally, holding it all back. Sam smiled warmly.
“Yeah, he’s good at that.”
“You should get on the road before someone who knows just enough about you to do something idiotic calls the cops. Just…don’t go after anything too dangerous, alright?”
“That’s kind of our job, Becky.”
“Don’t ‘Becky’ me,” she shot back, but without much punch. She wiped the butt of her palm under her eyes. “Zach sends his love.”
“Yeah, only ‘cause we got him out of jail,” Sam replied with a wry smile, and she laughed weakly. “Look after yourself, Becky. I’ll see you at the next reunion, huh?”
He turned and began walking down to the parking lot, where a big black Impala was parked in the fire lane. He waved to her as he did so, looking back over his shoulder.
“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes, but she waved back. She wished she knew better what to say.
Dean leaned up against the side of the car, munching on the plate of hors d'oeuvres that Rebecca had stolen for him from the buffet while Sam was inside.
“Dude, your friends rock,” Dean said, popping another salmon puff in his mouth.
“You say that about anyone who brings you food,” Sam reminded him, coming down to the passenger side of the car. “Well, except me, even though I bring you food all the time.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, balling up the paper plate and napkin in his hands as he chewed. “But you just don’t have the rack.”
“Nice.” Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean moved over to the trash can on the sidewalk, tossing away the ball of garbage he’d made. He wiped his mouth on his hand, swallowing down his last mouthful, then stopped to look up the hill to where the tent had been set up for the reception. He could hear the wedding band playing some cheesy conga music and the buzz of many voices chatting and laughing, but it was distant and removed from them. He looked back over at his brother.
“You sure you’re ready to leave? I mean, we can stay…” He let his offer drift off, shrugging and gesturing half-heartedly at the reception.
“No, it’s okay, Dean.” Sam shook his head, turning around fully to lean back against the car. He tipped his head to the side, trying to find words. It took him a moment to get them out. “I just…I wanted to come.” He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. “I just need to see, is all. Every so often. I mean, Kathy’s never gonna have to know about what’s really out there. I just need to see that. The reason why we do this.” He glanced at Dean, that same little-brother need for reassurance in his expression, even though he was over thirty now, even though he was his own man.
“Yeah,” Dean said, giving that reassurance as easy as breathing. “I get that.” There was a pause, a not-uncomfortable silence while Sam looked up at the people in the pavilion, and Dean at his brother. The moment passed quickly, though, like it always did, and Dean rubbed his hands against his coat before grabbing his keys. “You ready to hit the road?”
Sam didn’t respond right away, seemingly distracted.
“Yeah,” he muttered, then seemed to register the words and straighten. “Yeah,” he said more loudly, turning around to get into his side of the car. It didn't take Dean long to start the car, still glancing over at his brother. They pulled out from the curb, and the Impala moved through the crowded parking lot, engine thrumming loudly.
Only Rebecca was watching when they drove away.
