FIC: Ride The Skies 5/?

[dollarformyname]

—PART FIVE—

Sam slapped an OUT OF ORDER sign on the vending machine after determining the sparking wreckage was beyond his power, and now Castiel has to leave.

Now that he's firing on all cylinders and not a handicapped kind of lubricated, he's begun to realize the consequences of his rather impulsive actions and wants to start rounding up the kids he set free, find safehouses. Sam gets the practicality of it but the cold sweat is making his sense and reason all slippery, and it's hard to breathe in this tiny, tiny room with the walls closing in the way they are while the angel sits with the boys and tries to explain his responsibility to their former cellmates.

They're done taste-testing all the snack food, back on the bed and getting tucked in by an Angel of the Lord for fuck's sake, but they look like he's some hellbeast condemning them to a life sentence of dark, cold solitary. Or Ben does, anyway. Alec just looks wounded again, completely uncomprehending of any reason for the television being shut off.

Sam is pacing, legs way too long to get any kind of decent stretch and Dean, come on, already. Castiel is leaving, and it's just going to be Sam for some indeterminate length of time. Sam that they'll be solely reliant upon for rules and regulations, blankets and warm milk, comfort and stability, and whatever else lethal little soldier-cat hybrids require. Sam can take care of himself, can take care of Dean in those rare moments of waning self-sufficiency, but he can't take care of short Deans with layers and layers of psychological trauma. Sam's the bull and they're the china shop because he's so big and they're so not, and what if he accidentally steps on them or something?

Okay, they're not that small on a normal-person scale, but in comparison to him? They might as well be bugs and Christ on a motherfucking cracker he is such a dick because who thinks of kids as bugs?

It doesn't help that Castiel's saying the craziest shit to them, like, “You're safe here,” and, “You can trust Sam, he's not going to let anything bad happen,” and, “Dean and Sam are your family, and family sticks together,” the latter being a mantra he's learned well from Dean and believes wholeheartedly. That doesn't help Sam feel better, either, because hello, old guilt.

He's a terrible person. The worst person for this job, hands down.

“Sam.”

Sam whirls at the growling timbre that is suddenly right here and not way over there, fist halted mid-air. “Shit, Cas, don't do that! How many times do we hafta tell you?” He lets his arm fall and resumes his frenzied stride to nowhere, and the angel just stands in front of the door, expression so serious with a touch of reproach in the minute raise of his brow.

“I'm leaving now. I don't know when I'll be back but if you need me for anything,” he waves his cell phone with no small measure of disdain for such confusing technology, and Sam feels a smirk coming on despite himself. “You should be safe here for the night but I don't think moving on in the morning would be unwise.”

Sam nods dismissively, knows intimately the benefit of staying on the move. He's lived it his whole life, and he's more preoccupied with re-inspecting the devil's traps and salt lines scrawled all over the place, wondering if there should be more, and would it be totally inappropriate to relocate half the Impala's arsenal to the table within easy reach? Would it terrify the kids beyond imagining or are they so hardened to that kind of thing he should be more worried about finding a supernaturally-savvy team of shrinks?

Sam stops pacing and leaves his face wide open to the angel—I am so far in over my head I can't even tell the bottom from the top—and Castiel gives a curt nod of reassurance, eyes flicking over to the bed. Sam follows his gaze, the boys a knot of indecipherable limbs once more, and the distinct flutter-snap of disturbed air tells him not to bother turning back because Cas is already gone.

Sam sighs, the shine of wide open eyes in the dim lamplight informing him that these kids are far from tired. He doesn't blame them after the angel-nap, no telling how long they were out before Cas finally spilled his story.

The panic is fading back out because he's here, he's in it, and no one's around to witness his freak-out and take pity and save him, so he might as well just put a cork in it until there's someone else to perform for. He still doesn't know what the hell he's doing, but one thing he's always been good at is pretending to know what the hell he's doing. He can bullshit like nobody's business, sometimes even himself. It's why law school was so perfect for him.

He moves over to the TV and switches it back on, an immediately grateful Alec shooting upright like the screen has sticky feelers that will never fail to catch his eyes. Ben sits up a little slower, nestled back against the pillows and melded to Alec's side, but the other boy doesn't seem to mind, simply rearranges his arm so that Ben can burrow to his heart's content, and it makes Sam smile wistfully again. Might as well be Dean accommodating Sammy's overly-affectionate tendencies all those years ago, not complaining or even looking put-out, but like it was just the natural order of things and needed to be acknowledged about as much as blinking.

Once again, he's amazed at the camaraderie in such a short time, but then, he did kind of stake his claim as soon as they bared Winchester faces so he really shouldn't be.

Hovering uncertainly off to the side, Sam glances down at his watch. It's only been a few hours since he brought them in from the car but it feels like days. Looking back up just as something highly amusing is taking place on the screen, he sees Ben turn his head into Alec's shirt to muffle his laughter while Alec unabashedly lets his own burst forth.

And Sam sees something else.

He's across the room before he's even aware of moving, towering over Ben with his hand yanking down the back of his shirt collar, and he swears his rage has to be whistling like a teakettle it's so audibly scalding in his own head. Ben is petrified, perfectly still and menacing, a carnivore rearing up in his darkening gaze as Alec stiffens and literally growls at Sam for the abrupt invasion. Sam can't be bothered to heed it, though, he's so pissed, not until he reaches for Alec and tries to bow his head to get a look. Alec vaults out of bed and Ben blurs, dragging his brother halfway across the room and pushing him into the wall, puts himself in front of Alec, glare combustible.

Sam freezes, belatedly absorbing the perilous ground he's stomping all over with huge clumsy feet.

He lets out a breath and perches on the edge of the bed, runs his hands through his hair to calm himself. He knows where they came from, or he heard, anyway. He's realizing he doesn't actually know at all because the barcodes are driving the unthinkable home like a rusty nail through rotting wood, breaking him open and spilling out skittering, clicking bugs looking for something meatier to gnaw at.

There needs to be some demolition, necks presented front and center for him to snap. They can't just do that, they have no fucking right, branding his kids like they're fucking merchandise, like they own any part of them. It's unlawful, and the Winchester court of law is unyielding, bloody, often unforgiving, not one you ever want to find yourself pleading your case in because if you're there your trespass has already been deemed pretty heinous.

Sam has to do that breathing thing again, has to push the fact that he just thought of them as his to the back of his mind for frantic reevaluation at some later time.

Alec and Ben are still pressed against the wall, regarding him coldly, predators sizing up another predator, and Sam's seeing now that Alec isn't as well-adjusted as he seems, his masks well-worn but not quite as broken in as Dean's. And Ben. Ben's protecting Alec, which is some weird role reversal because Sam thought he was starting to have them pegged but, apparently, he's just as clueless as he was a few hours ago.

They're not just soldiers. They're not just animals. They're a combination of those things, and they're also brainwashed refugees from some godawful concentration camp where they were never once treated like people. Like kids.

Sam can treat them like kids. He can do that much.

“I'm sorry,” Sam says, low and soft, loosens his posture to something less threatening as he leans back against the headboard, one foot still planted on the floor, regards them earnestly. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Alec straightens, pushes his way out from behind Ben. “We weren't scared, it was self-preservation,” he's quick to disillusion Sam of that nonsense. “You just can't go throwing your unreasonably immense bulk around like that. One of us could have been flattened.”

Sam snorts behind a fist at the way Alec is taking his size like some personal affront. Dean does that shit all the time. “I apologize for being so large,” he manages. “And I promise to warn you before I invade your personal space next time, okay?” He clears his throat, adds, “Unless it's an emergency and I have to pick you up and run away or something.”

“You don't need to pick us up for running,” Alec assures, dusts himself off like the whole thing ruffled his beautiful feathers and now look at them. “We're faster than you. If anyone's going to do the picking up, it's us.”

“I dunno.” Sam quirks a brow as if he's giving it serious consideration. “I'm kind of unwieldy.”

“You are grotesquely long-limbed,” Alec concedes. He looks him up and down for prompt reassessment. “We could probably drag you, though. What do you think, Ben?”

Ben doesn't look like he wants any part in this conversation, still rubbing the back of his neck as if he's been burned, eyes dark and trained on Sam like he's calculating the most efficient and expedient method for evisceration, and yeah, that's not disturbing at all. This kid is quieter, and Sam knows better than anyone it's the quiet ones you've gotta watch out for. Ben comes from the same camp as Alec but he had the gumption to make a break for it, survived by his own wits and he's still got the training, but he's also got the snapped and tattered leash. Ben is quieter, but Ben is also wilder.

Sam's got to be more careful with these boys.

Grudgingly, Ben mutters, “His legs are long enough to cover great distances in little time, so he should be allowed a chance to do his own running, If he falls behind and additional momentum is required, the two of us could easily drag him.”

Alec nods his approval and drapes an arm around Ben's shoulders, and Sam notices the raw ferocity ebbs back a little more at the trusted contact.

The cadence of the flickering light from the television changes, and Sam looks over to see I Love Lucy is back on. “Commercials are over,” he says, patting the bed. He's decided to respect their space better but that doesn't mean he's not going to try and earn a little more trust. If they ask him to move he will, but they need to learn to voice these things without prompting.

Alec edges over first, cocking his head at all the unnecessary yelling Fred is doing. “I like the commercials.”

Of course he does. The commercials tell him what he should want from the world.

“There'll be a whole bunch more of those,” Sam promises, smirking.

Alec smirks too, but then it dies away when he sees Sam is still lounging half-over his and Ben's nest, and he stops. Eyes up on Sam, down at the bed and gauging the square feet left available to him, sideways at the TV, up, down, sideways, then back at Ben, who is definitely not coming anywhere near the Sam-adorned bed any time soon.

Sam considers giving in but quickly squashes it. They're fast learners, so if he just waits...

“Um, Sam?” Alec hedges, raising his brows.

“Yeah, Alec?”

“Do you think that bed is big enough for all three of us?” The question is meant to point out that it clearly isn't, not to garner any kind of answer, but Sam answers anyway.

“I think it is.” He scans the bed and nods to confirm his own appraisal.

“Oh.” Alec looks so disappointed, shuffles in place for a moment, wheels spinning rapidly in search of his next tactic, and Sam is starting to get that Alec really values his personal boundaries. It's going to take a lot more than some free food and cable to earn his way past the barricades, but that's okay. He wants to get under the conditioning a little bit, is all. “Hey, Sam?”

Sam's fighting another grin, trying to give the kid the serious attention the subject deserves and not get up to pinch his cheeks. He hated it back when people did that condescending shit to him just because he was smaller and so easily manhandled. “Yeah, Alec?”

“Would it, uh, hurt your feelings or anything if I asked you to move?” Alec's eyes are firmly on the floor now.

Sam is a little proud and a little hurt at the same time, but it's not on his own behalf. He told the boys they could ask as many questions as they wanted, and Alec's putting his desires in question-form so as not to challenge authority too boldly. Sam gets the sense testing boundaries are not new to him but he's careful about it. In this new environment, Alec has no idea what the consequences will be, whereas, at... that other place, he was probably well-versed, knew what he could get away with and what he had to be willing to endure to get away with it.

Sam can try to fix some of that.

Rising from the bed, Sam glances over at Dean, wonders if he's not just faking it by now. No way does a little table-smack lay him out this long.

Sighing, he looks back at Alec, who's still inspecting the carpet. “It doesn't hurt my feelings. If you want something, and I don't want you to have that something, I'll tell you, okay?” Alec doesn't look up, but nods. “Okay.” Sam straightens, screws his knuckles as his jaw cracks on a yawn. “Express your opinions freely around here, guys. We all do, loudly and often, and if we don't agree we figure it out. Sometimes there's yelling but we're just kinda grumpy overall. We won't do anything to hurt you. We won't let anything else hurt you. Got it?”

Alec does look up then, gaze hopeful, as if to verify that Sam really just granted his mouth free reign, is he absolutely sure about this and maybe they should get it in writing so no one can be blamed for things later. Ben's eyeing Sam, too, but he's more dubious of these preposterously loose restrictions, like Sam's playing some kind of cruel joke just so he can snare their little ankles in something with metal teeth. Sam looks back, sincere and resolute.

The promise to not let anything hurt them is of course impossible, but Sam's feeling up to impossible just lately. The more time he spends with them, the more he's becoming convinced all he's gotta do is become invincible, and he's already halfway there, what with all the resurrections left and right. They deserve more, better, and maybe Sam sucks at things but he'll just learn not to suck at things. Sam can set goals and surpass them, that's one thing he doesn't suck at.

Alec's face breaks into the grinniest grin Sam's ever seen and suddenly he's in motion, leaping onto the bed so hard he bounces in place for long seconds, eyes going wide at the springy surface. He does it again, and then he hops to his feet and starts that reckless jumping Sam just knows some concerned parent wrote that monkey rhyme about.

Ben watches this first in shock, then starts giggling, hands cupping his mouth as Alec's head practically hits the ceiling. As entertaining as it is, Sam has to put a stop to this before a skull gets cracked open.

“Okay, hey! Whoa!” Sam steps forward and splays his hands, careful not to get grabby. “That looks like tons of fun, but you can't do it. You'll hurt yourself.”

Alec stops and unleashes his pout again, throwing his arms across his chest. “It makes me happy,” he drawls, like don't you want me to be happy, Sam?

Sam sighs, knew he was going to regret that speaking your mind thing, but it's still miles better than blind obedience. “You falling and busting your head open would make me unhappy,” he counters.

“I won't fall. I have superb reflexes.” Alec beams some more. “Besides, cats always land on their feet. Everyone knows that.”

And here it is. The first dancing circle and Sam is already losing. He's going to have to do the monkey rhyme, he just knows it. “Alec, when I tell you to do something I have good reasons and I expect you to do it,” he tries, stern but not too hard.

“And if I don't?” Alec challenges, frowning severely and just daring Sam to go back on his word not two minutes after giving it.

“If you don't, there'll be no more TV for a week.”

Yeah, that's good. Loss of privileges is what parents are into these days, he's pretty sure. It steers safely clear of anything that could be interpreted as abuse or mistreatment.

Alec's eyes go round with wounded betrayal, bottom lip quivering, and it's so exaggerated Sam knows he's being manipulated. Knowing doesn't seem to stop him from feeling lower than dirt, however. Crap, how the fuck is he supposed to do this? There's no way regular people tell their kids 'no' without some secret well of superpowers.

Alec plops down on his little butt and decides he's ignoring Sam now, eyes glued to the television like he'll follow through on his threat any second and he needs to savor it as long as he can.

Ben heaves a sigh and returns to his place at Alec's side, snuggling up to him for comfort, but Sam swears he looks relieved that there's some kind of structure going on around here, otherwise he might have had to organize a mutiny.

“There's other fun stuff for you to do,” Sam tries, feeling like a cartoon villain, ridiculously-shaped mustache and all.

He goes to pull his duffel out of the closet and finds a set of playing cards in there, still tries to perfect a few simple magic tricks on long, monotonous drives to stave off boredom, and Dean always indulges him no matter how much he denies participation when others are present. Sam brings the deck over to the table and waves the boys over. “C'mere, I'll show you a game.”

Ben is instantly intrigued, walks over and sits across from him, cants his head as Sam shuffles the cards. Alec is still mad and wants everyone to know about it so he's not moving. Sam's trying to remember kid games, but all he's coming up with are things like Spades and Poker. Spades is innocent enough, no gambling required, so he proceeds to explain the rules as he deals, Ben listening closely and nodding his understanding.

Ben takes his cards and spreads them in his little hands, licking his lips in thought. “What happens when you win?”

“Uh, you get bragging rights?” Sam says, not sure what Ben expects. He doesn't have stickers or anything, and shit, he totally should've gotten some stickers at the store. He was so preoccupied with needs he forgot all about entertainment, and with all the traveling the kids are going to go bonkers. Ben is disappointed after all Sam's talk of how to win, like it was some huge deal, so Sam hastily decides, “Tell you what. If you win you get a piggy-back ride.”

“What's a piggy-back ride?” Alec asks before Ben can, not very good at sticking to his pouting guns when there are things that sound so interesting on offer.

“Well, if Ben wins, I guess you'll find out.”

Ben gives a small smile, the first one he hasn't tried to hide with his hands, and Sam feels victorious. He doesn't know if they're too old for piggy-back rides, but they don't even know what they are and they can't very well figure out if they're too old for it until they experience one.

“Ben's not going to win,” Alec informs him, breezing over to the table and slapping a hand down. “Deal me in.”

Sam cocks a brow, and Alec frowns uncertainly.

“Ricky said it when Fred was shuffling all the cards. They were also smoking cigars and eating nuts.” He looks around the table. “We don't appear to have any of those things.”

Oh god. Less than twenty-four hours and the kids are already corrupted by television. Sam's a horrible parent. “We don't have to do everything the way they do it on TV,” he sighs, shoving a hand of cards over to the newest player. “In fact, I can pretty much guarantee we won't do much of anything the way anyone else does, fictional or not.”

“But then we'll stand out,” Ben says, wide-eyed and uttering it like a curse.

Sam grinds his teeth at the reminder that Ben's life has literally depended on blending in or just plain hiding for a long time. “We won't stand out. We're careful, don't worry.” He ducks his head to be at eye level with the boy when Ben looks on the verge of tears. “Don't worry, Ben. Me and Dean, we're looking out for you now. You don't have to worry about that stuff anymore, that's our job. Okay?”

Ben nods jerkily, staring down at his lap so as not to reveal his losing battle with emotion, not quite daring to believe it.

“So I guess we're sticking around for a while, huh?” Alec says, trying to protect his brother's private moment by once more commanding all the attention. His mouth's twisted up in deliberation, the answer important even though he's trying to pretend it doesn't matter.

Castiel told them they would be safe, Sam told them they're family, but he's not sure anyone really came out and told them they're here to stay.

“Yeah, you're sticking around, Alec. You and Ben just try to un-stick and see what happens.”

Alec's face contorts in utter confusion. “Why would we wanna try that? Will there be a piggy-back ride if we succeed?”

Sam chuckles and shakes his head, reaches out to ruffle Alec's nonexistent hair without thinking. Alec winces, but doesn't pull away, and it takes a second for Sam to realize he's touching him and not getting his hand bitten off. “It's just another one of those expressions,” Sam says, feeling misty-eyed all of the sudden. “You're stuck with us, kiddo. Try to run away and I'll strap you to my back until you're thirty.”

“Is that another expression?”

“No, that's a promise.”

Alec cocks his head, thinking it over. “The prospect is comical but not very plausible.”

Sam doesn't get to deliver his brilliant comeback, because Dean chooses that moment to shake off his most inconvenient nap to date and murmurs groggily, “Dude, I had the strangest fucking dream. You were there, and Cas, and uh...” Dean scrubs at his eyes and pushes up onto an elbow, squints to get his bearings and spots Sam. His eyes slide slowly over to the kids, curious reflections in a funhouse mirror from the past staring back at him. He blinks owlishly, falls back again with a mumbled, “Dream's not over.”

Oh, hell no. Time for Dorothy to wake the fuck up and face the rainbow.

“Hey, Ben? Alec?” Their gazes light up at the mischievous tone of Sam's voice. “I changed my mind. First one to get Dean out of that bed gets a piggy-back ride.”

Ben and Alec glance at each other, glance at Dean, and then Dean's being shoved and lifted and fought over, the rope in a tug-o-war between freakishly strong mini-hims, and he screeches, actually screeches, bolting upright and dance-hopping away from them in shock.

Sam cracks up.

That's what he fucking gets.

-:-

PART 6