Bloody Politics


Six months later…

"Dean, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure… get off me! I can stand just fine on my own!"

"Such a prude, Sammy."

"Shut up, Dean!"

"Boys, knock it off!"

"Sorry Sir!"

"Sorry Dad!"

"Seriously though, dude," said Dean, eyeing Sam worriedly. "You promised you'd tell me, right?"

Sam sighed and crouched down by the broken shards of glass.

"Seriously, I'm ok," he said, carefully picking up the larger pieces and disposing of them in the motel room trash can. "It was a genuine accident, and nothing to worry about. In fact, if someone" he glared accusingly at his brother, "hadn't left the damn water glass there in the first place, then I wouldn't have knocked it off the table!"

"Yeah," answered Dean, nodding but still looking worried. "But why didn't you see the glass? Are you getting double vision again?"

"I didn't see it, because," Sam sighed again, and pointed to a large pile of library books sitting on the floor nearby. "I was carrying them."

Dean stared at the books, critically assessing the height, and cautiously agreed. The pile was large enough to have obstructed Sam's view of the table and, ergo, the water glass.


"Well, you're due a check up in any case, so make sure you mention it to the doc when we go back and see him." Dean snapped his fingers. "Never mind. I'll mention it."


"Button it, Sammy."

"It's Sam, jerk!"

"Don't care what you call it, just button it bitch!"

John grinned from behind a large textbook on Japanese hauntings, and then shut the book with a loud snap. Grin smothered behind a stern, professional veneer, he glared at his sons.

"Right. Let's go. New hunt coming up, and you boys better quit your girly squabbling and get with the program. Like, now!"

"Yes Sir!" Sam and Dean replied in unison, grabbed up their weapons, and turned to file out of the motel room.

But John gently caught Sam's arm before he could leave.

"Are you sure, son?" he asked, keeping his voice down so Dean wouldn't hear and start on Sam again. "If you're not up to this, or you don't feel ready, we can pass this on to Bobby and Caleb…"

Sam appeared to hesitate, a strange look on his face, and it would take John another couple of years, and a son lost to higher education, before he realised what that was all about.

"I'm ok, Dad," Sam finally replied, a little sadly. "It's been six months and I'm better now. I can do this."

Sam needed to prove to his family that he was getting better, and to prove to himself that he could still have a shot at normal, in spite of that freaky thing in his head. Hunting wasn't his calling, but somehow he was along for the ride whether he liked it or not.

Besides, it was only for another year or so.

Sam had others items on his own, personal agenda, and at least one of those items involved college.

One way or another.

And no damned aneurysm was going to stop him.

The End.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed that little trinket. Nothing much, and rather AU, and the medical facts were more bent than a nine quid note, but it was fun to write.

Cheers to everyone who took the time to review.

Again, been a stressful day, so I posted the epilogue rather than replied to your reviews, but I will reply to them all on this last one, I promise.

With much love,

ST xxx.