Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come.
This fic is AU, so I can change whatever I like. Sam went with Dean for the weekend, and then left him, Jess is still alive, for whatever reason the demon never came and got her, and John has been making himself scarce for the past three years or so, citing the closeness of the demon and all that whoopla.
Ok. So here we go.
Sam Winchester was in a pensive mood, which wasn't entirely uncommon, he often went into this sort of mode, where he sat on the couch, cup of coffee by his side and thought things over. But usually those things were to do with his latest case, or trying to think of a way to shock Jess even more then she had him, when she had thrown a surprise 25th birthday party a few months ago.
Today however the mood was odd and he was thinking of things that had little to do with cases, or even his daily life in general, and more to do with the life he had led prior to meeting Jess. He had dreamt last night, for the first time since before he hit his twenties, a dream with fire, screams and pain, and he had woken in the early morning, sweating and shaking, and wondering what on earth could have possibly brought that blast from the past on.
He had shaken it off, though he realised that getting back to sleep was a lost cause, and after checking on Jamie in his crib had pulled out his mobile phone and pondered ringing… someone. Not his father, he probably knew something of this kind of dream, the kind that Sam had found so real he had woken up smelling smoke, but he wouldn't tell his son what he knew, they hadn't spoken for nearly 8 years now, Johns ultimatum ending their rather precarious relationship.
He would have called Pastor Jim, but the man had died, only a month ago, Sam had attended the funeral with Jess, thinking that the sense of parental loss he was feeling should possibly have been suffered 8 years ago, when his real father became dead to him.
Which left him with Dean. Sam wasn't sure why that option seemed so repugnant to him. There wasn't the animosity between himself and his brother that had existed between him and his dad, rather, Dean had tried as hard as he could for them to stay in contact, and it had been Sam who really broke things off. They had spoken since that weekend, years ago, when they went looking for Dad together, Dean had rung with congratulations when they were married, a battered present arriving in the mail with a congratulations note, and a stuffed M & M toy had arrived for Jamie when he was born, something Sam found just as appropriate as all the blue booties and hats Jess's relatives bombarded them with.
But to talk to his brother about the supernatural, about visions and dreams that felt too real, Sam wasn't sure how Dean would react. He knew he had hurt Dean that night when he had turned his back on him, again, this time leaving him alone without even their father. If he was asking questions about the life he had left behind he might bring back memories of both times he had left, words about how he wished to never speak of that life again. Somehow it didn't feel right to call his brother for the first time in years over a problem that was part the reason they barely ever spoke. No, Sam had decided to leave it. He had most likely just been watching too many horror movies, and they were starting to rub off.
He had put the phone down, turned the television on and watched infomercials on sharp knives and weight loss products until an hour when it actually felt alright to be awake. He had made Jess breakfast in bed, though when she questioned why he was up so early he had left out his nightmare and flashed her a grin that said it was something she would never get to know.
The day, in a rather stark contrast to his eventful night, was wonderfully mundane, it was a Sunday, and they took Jamie to the park, rugged up against the autumn cold, a tiny baby beanie on his little head. Jess had a camera; she was actually rarely without one, especially after the baby was born. Sam told her, and other people, that he was sure one day they would look back and be able to make a flash book of his son's life using the photos she had taken.
"You know baby, I think his first words going to be smile if you don't stop asking him too. He's only 8 months old; I don't think you asking him to smile means he will."
"I know. I'm just hoping that if we start training him now, when he is old enough to understand me he won't complain like his father does."
They put Jamie down for a nap when they got home, Jess taking the time to finish another chunk of the rather gruesome crime novel she was desperate to finish, and Sam, after realising that he might actually lose his son in the front yard, the grass was getting that tall, decided that it was time for some good old fashioned mowing.
Dinner was normal, Jamie covering himself, and most of his mother in clumps of gooey baby food, and they settled down to watch MacGyver, because Jess was a sucker for a guy who could manufacture anything with a stick of gum, and Sam was caught up in her enthusiasm.
The phone rang, right in the peak, and so neither one moved to answer it. There was an unspoken understanding that once the last 15 minutes of whatever show they were watching began, and it all got climatic, that phones were off limits. Jess always said that if it was important enough they would leave a message, though the answering machine was broken at the moment, one too many globs of baby food had shorted it out, and there hadn't yet been time to buy a new one in between life and work.
They went to bed soon after that, tired and content, Sam drifting off while she knuckled down to finish the last few pages of her book, because she was dying to know what happened.
He woke to screams.
Ok. Hmmm, first chapter there, I have plans for this story, so we'll see how we go. Hope you liked it, please review if you'd like me to continue.