Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate it. Slowly, but surely, I'm making my way through these requests. I am so sorry for how pathetic my update speed has been. I've been dealing with a lot in my real life and now I know that I should keep request series like this to just Christmas time. Speaking of that, I've opened up holiday requests for my "2nd Annual 25 Days of Hurt Sam" so if you have a holiday prompt, I hope you will submit it. Unlike this series, that one will be updated every day come December. Anyways, onto today's prompt from Amira13 who requested, "You know the song 'Summertime' from Porgy and Bess? Where it says "fish are jumping"? So what about the monster of the day being some fish-like badie, and of course he 'jumps' Sam (or Dean, but Sam is pushing him out the he way)?" Thanks for this fun request. I hadn't heard the song before now, but I really like it. Please enjoy! Set season 1.
"One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky."
—Porgy and Bess, "Summertime"
Three weeks, 12 hours, 43 minutes and about 35 seconds since he watched Jess burn up on the ceiling, he wonders what he's doing with his life. He blew off Stanford, left the live that he had worked so hard to put together and now he was back doing the one thing he swore he would never do again—hunting.
"Sammy?" Dean's been watching him carefully, through side-glances and semi-conspicuous stares. His older brother's words have been measured, his demeanor guarded, as if he's afraid that one wrong step will cause his baby brother to shatter beyond repair. And sure, sometimes, Sam does feel like he's teetering on the edge of a cliff overlooking a vast abyss. The worrisome part is that some days, Sam doesn't care that he could fall. In fact, he might even welcome it. It's the grief and the guilt talking, he knows, but in the middle of the night after a nightmare—why, Sam, why?—he wonders what the fuck he's doing with his life. Whatever happened to his perfect plan?
Oh, right. It went up in flames.
"Hey," Dean nudges him a bit and the thoughts fly away. The youngest Winchester glances up from the book he was supposed to be reading and meets his older brother's concerned gaze. Brows furrowed, Dean tries to keep his expression schooled but Sam knows him—has always known his tells and his tricks—and he sees through his façade. "You all right?" It's a loaded question; they both know that. It's an open invitation to talk about his feelings, about his pain and have a "chick-flick" moment, but Sam shakes his head.
He's not ready yet.
He doesn't know when he'll ever be ready.
"I'm fine." His brother doesn't buy it, but Sam thrusts the book forward, letting the text catch his sibling's eye.
"The hell is that?" Dean murmurs as he tugs the book over and his eyes glance over the page.
"A flying fish." Sam sighs, rubbing his temples and wishing, not for the first time, that he could take more Advil without the possibility of overdosing. If he were back at Stanford, Jess would insist on him seeing a doctor, but now—
God, what was his life now?
"I know that," Dean scoffs. "But why am I looking at it? What does it have to do with our case?" Sam actually cracks a smile at that because in all of their screwed up hunts this is something new, even for them.
"Flying fish don't really fly," Sam continues on, ignoring his brother's question. "They jump and glide above the water's surface." His brother is disinterested, but Sam plows on, looking forward to Dean's reaction.
"Okay, fine, I'll bite." His brother sighs, folding his arms across his chest, eyes locked on Sam's gaze.
"All the witnesses claimed they saw the victims taken by a huge creature that held them in the air for a few seconds before dragging them back down into the lake," Sam continues. "That's not a ghost's M.O. and it isn't a water spirit."
"So," Dean starts slowly. "You're telling me that all of the victims were taken by a giant version of that fish?" His finger taps the page in the book and Sam nods his head. "You're kidding!"
"Think about it," The youngest Winchester brother continues. "What else is there?"
"I don't know, something other than a giant freakin' fish!" His brother shouts. "I mean, seriously? Next thing you know, the gators in the sewers will turn out to be real too."
"Actually—" Sam begins, but Dean held up his hand.
"Don't even finish that," His brother grinds out. Running a hand through his hair, he paces the length of the room. "Okay, fine, let's say you're right. How'd a fish suddenly become a monster?"
"Not sure," His brother replies. "I mean, the Greeks claimed that Poseidon could summon sea creatures at will to punish those that defied him."
"We're dealing with a God?"
"I don't think so," His little brother answers. "But maybe a witch or something?"
"We have no clue what we're dealing with, do we?"
"No. Not really."
Dean curses softly and then plops down on the bed across from the table that Sam is sitting at.
"Okay," He breathes. "Let's go fishing."
The lake is small, especially considering the fact that a giant fish monster was living within its glassy blue waters. Numerous signs were posted, warning people of the recent drowning and advising people to stay out of the water. In his hand, Sam clenches the banishment spell and wonders dimly if this will be enough.
"Okay, just start the spell." Dean begins, moving towards the water's edge, but Sam reaches out and grabs his shoulder, stopping him.
"Just . . . be careful, okay?"
Blue eyes shining, blonde hair rolling down until it kissed her creamy white shoulders. A strong hand within his own—warm, soft. "You'll be careful on this road trip with your brother right?" Her voice always sounded like bells.
"Yeah, okay," His older brother assures him, his own eyes pooling with concern and Sam lets him go. He needs to stay focused, needs to make sure he doesn't screw this up. Picking up a wooden stick, he begins to draw out the protection sigils. When they cover the sandy floor, he pulls out his knife and cuts his palm, letting the blood mingle with the sand below him. "In nomine Dei, hoc te summoveant." The blood boils and he spares a glance at his brother. He's safe. "In nomine Dei—" There's a ripple in the water and immediately, Sam realizes that this thing isn't going down without a fight. He growls out the rest of the spell as he moves for his brother. His long arms reach out and he pushes his older brother out of the way as the fish plows into his side. They both sink down and the youngest Winchester kicks, trying to fight his way out, but the fish—now dead, at least the spell worked even if it didn't exactly work the way it was supposed to—is pulling him down with its weight. His lungs burn, lights explode behind his eyes.
And then, there is nothing.
She bakes cookies whenever she's stressed.
Her cookies are really the best, not because of how they taste—though they are really yummy—but because they remind him of home. No one baked growing up and they barely had an oven in the places they stayed.
"You love them that much?" She asks as he presses a kiss to her forehead, letting his book bag fall to the floor.
"You know I do."
"I'll make them more often then." She chirps and she reaches for a plate. He grabs it, and then drops it suddenly, the glass flying every which way. "Sam?" She's covered in blood and he can smell smoke.
"Why'd you let me die, Sam?" The fire is consuming them now, all-powerful and he's choking, coughing as the fire touches her dress. She holds her hand out, beckoning him. "Why, Sam? Why?"
Pain rips through him as he struggles to come up for—
He's upright in no time flat, coughing and gagging as his body purges itself of the water that he had taken in. Dean is there, a strong hand rubbing comforting circles on his back and whispering reassurances as he comes back to himself.
"D'n?" He meets his brother's gaze and sees nothing but relief as the realization on how close he came sinks in.
"Fuck, Sammy." He leans forward and Sam doesn't protest the hug, realizing that Dean might need it as much as Sam does.
"Y'kay?" Dean's chuckle reverberates within him and it makes the youngest Winchester recall countless times when his older brother had comforted him after a nightmare, after a bully bothered him, after his first hunt—Dean had always been there.
"Fine," He replies calmly. "We ganked the fish. Not sure how, but hey, I'll take it."
"Yeah," Sam nods his head. "Me too."
They sit there until the realization that they both were okay, that they still had each other sunk in.
That night, Sam sat down to dinner and met his brother's gaze. Dean waited; knowing whatever his little brother was about to say was obviously important.
"I miss Jessica."
That was the first night he confided in Dean.
And maybe, Sam thought, maybe his perfect plan wasn't as destroyed as he thought. Perhaps, with Dean by his side, he could build a new life.
Yeah, he thought with a grin, that sounded like a good plan.
Author's Note: I'm thankful to have such wonderful readers. May you have a wonderful Thanksgiving if you celebrate it and a great day regardless! Thanks so much!