Chapter Text
“Of course we saw them, a blind man would notice them.” Asmodeus barks into the phone as Sam walks into his office. “I’ll have Ketch take him over.” He slams the receiver down. Runs his hand through his hair, unsettling the waves in a manner that makes a lock pop loose on his forehead. “Azazel needs to talk to you, so morning lessons will be cancelled.”
“He already knows, then?”
“Yes, you little shit, we all know.”
Sam looks down; he wasn’t expecting congratulations. At least not from Asmodeus but perhaps the blatant mistreatment to stop.
Josefa comes in with a tray full of coffee and tea and all the fixings needed for preparing either to taste. She sets it on the hutch behind Asmodeus’ desk and stays still, waiting for a good moment to quietly step between them and leave.
“It’s not my fault.” Sam’s voice has a quiet tone of misery.
“Really? If it’s not your fault, why are your mangey, feral family members here? Causing us trouble?”
“What?” Sam asks lost to what he means.
“They are exactly like you, stray, ugly, rag-tag foster care dogs. How dare you think you are a Special Child? You’re worthless. I have no idea why my brother fixated on you. You can pick up stronger psychics outside any Metaphysical Shop, prettier specimens outside any modeling school and purer lineage from any of our community families.” Spittle flys from the demon’s lips, he lifts both hands to push Sam, but Sam lifts his own hands and blocks his energy.
Sam doesn’t find it difficult to protect himself from Asmodeus’ energy. His eyes widen as he sees the demon notice and anger. “How?” Asmodeus asks, confused.
“You said everyone knew. The Winged One.” Sam hesitates. “He said it was me.”
Asmodeus lets out a groan of anger. Everything on his desk lands on the floor with one swipe of his arm.
“He is chosen, a King. The Boy-King!” Josefa states enthusiastically.
“Josefa, leave.” Asmodeus straightens his jacket, “Sam, I wasn’t talking about that. How do you even know? Are you sure it wasn’t a delirium or a dream? You are still very young and susceptible.”
“I am certain.” Sam looks at him resolutely.
Asmodeus shakes his head, and calls his security guy. “Ketch, take Sam to Azazel. Be careful because the men we were talking about will be tailing you. Let them get on the property so we can call the cops for trespassing.”
“What men?” Sam asks, now remembering the comment about his family members.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You’re chosen.” Asmodeus says it in a vicious and mocking tone. “Mr Ketch here will make sure nothing happens to you now that you are officially, as per you, the vessel.” Asmodeus grabs Sam’s arm and turns him around, “Make sure the boy is unharmed. Find out what my brother wants to do with him to sign, seal and deliver.”
Ketch raises an eyebrow. This is all way more than security detail for one person, but he fears it is not the time to negotiate. Both Asmodeus’ tone, distressed manner and the pressing matter of the black Impala with the two men with fake IDs and impressive hunting skills indicate that it is a time for action. He’ll have to negotiate after the fact. At least it seems like it will be a lively and entertaining afternoon. Keep his skills sharp.
They drive up to the administrative building and park their white Range Rover next to the other ones that belong to Azazel, Meg and Alastair. There are only two in the lot so one of them isn’t in, probably Meg as campers haven’t started yet.
“Go to the Director’s office.” Ketch orders. He is already eyeing the surroundings. Expectant of trouble.
Sam enters the building and heads to Azazel’s office. The director is all smiles and before Sam has even approached him fully he has made his way towards the youth. “Sam! Please, come and tell me everything. You always were my favorite.”
Sam smiles widely and feels giddy. He has been on this path for almost four years, and it’s true, since even before they had tested him as a Special Child the director had been championing him as his favorite. He lets himself fall into a hug against the stocky man’s barrel chest and just breathes. Azazel laughs, being caught unawares. He pats Sam’s back. “You’ve done good, sport.” Sam nods and squeezes him one more time before breaking the hug.
They sit, and Sam starts to retell him about his experience the evening before. When suddenly Ketch arrives leading the man, the trespasser, the one who was tailing them into the office. It’s John Winchester. Sam trembles with barely contained anger.
“Sammy, baby, you’re so grown.” John’s tone is wistful, and he speaks as if he weren’t being restrained.
“Director, I can’t. I don’t want to see or talk to this man.” Sam’s flushed and is shaking. His mind goes so fast that his words stumble before they come out.
“Sam, there’s things you don’t know about these people. You have to listen to me.”
“Did you already call the cops for trespassing?” Sam asks and Ketch nods. “Mention my name again, and we’ll add harassment and stalking when the cops get here.” Sam spits out to John.
“Ah baby, you don’t know. I’ll explain later but I need you to—”
“I need you to shut up. I’m not a baby, and you don’t know me or what I know.” Sam hiccups, the first tears running down his cheeks.
“Sam, champ. I’m so proud of you. Go to the Tee-Pee and take a nap or visit Alastair. I have to stay here until the cops come and take him away. Then we’ll finish our conversation.” Azazel promises the boy, who nods and moves out of the office quickly.
Ketch excuses himself and promises to stay outside to guide the authorities upon arrival.
“You’ve got a pretty sweet set-up here.” John says once they were alone.
“I do.” Azazel agrees. “And so does your son.”
“Yeah, at what cost? Being with demons? Lucifer? Nah, pass.” John scoffs.
“Funny, you are worried about a kid we found undernourished, with lack of vitamins, no formal structure in his education, zero mental, spirtual or psychic stimulation, lonely as fuck, socially and emotionally mal-adjusted, behind on all medically recommended treatments and that you legally abandonded.” Azazel lists, “We saved him and allowed him to flourish.”
“From the goodness of your hearts.” John says sarcastically.
“Do you know who Sam is? Speaking of his heart? The enormity of it?” Azazel scoffs. “You don’t deserve him. He deserves the world, and we’ll make sure he gets it. As a father, you should be happy that he is getting everything and being treated so well.”
“Yeah, if only there weren’t that big BUT in the middle, he’s lovely but he’s dead, he’s fantastic but he’s ancient, he’s perfect but he’s Lucifer, oops but he’s the devil!!” John smiles all teeth and sarcasm.
Azazel walks over to him, “I’m sure as a deity he has similar thoughts of you, but understands you’re a flawed dead-beat father, and that Sam doesn’t care about your opinion.”
Ketch knocks twice and pops his head in. “The police have arrived. Figured you might prefer to go and meet outside? Creates a sense of urgency.” Azazel nods. They all head out.
Azazel portrays the worried director who doesn’t understand this random man’s obsession with their camp but who is so glad staff caught him before the young campers arrive in a few weeks. He speaks of his suspicion that John’s intentions were familiarizing himself with the land before camp started for some nefarious plan. Maybe even kidnapping; they do have several well-off participants. No, no students are currently attending. Only a few adult staff. They had first seen him four days ago. No, he isn’t the parent of any current or past camper.
John smirks and smiles throughout; he alleges that he didn’t know it was private property. The place looks like a national park. He is an avid camper, and was just looking for a spot to unwind. It’s an honest mistake. He rolls his shoulders. The cops seem dubious of both sides but promise to escort John off property and down to the station to run his prints. If nothing pops up, to cut him loose. Azazel seems amenable to that as no harm has come to the camp but wants it documented that John has already trespassed. The local cops agree to send a preventive patrol twice a day. Finally all the nuisance with John Winchester has been resolved, Azazel breathes and returns to his office.
He’ll wait for Sam to make his way back to his office on his own. The kid must be overwhelmed from seeing the father that abandoned him. Azazel is truly astonished at how well he handled himself. He knew from the day he met Sam that the kid was special, but seeing how he has developed into his powers, learned about their hierarchy, politics and the role he is expected to play has been a gift. History has changed, monarchs used to train and rule from younger ages but in this era the expectations placed on the younger ones was different so they acted differently. Sam is a throwback to past eras in that sense, largely due to John’s upbringing or lack of technique. Either way, they need to talk and see what instructions Sam will be following, or giving, now. Azazel is excited; he has waited decades for this assignment to be completed, and it is reaching its conclusion.
Ketch opens the flap of the teepee, “Sam?”
Sam is in the same bed he has always used since he started at camp at 12 years old. When he wandered in half-an-hour ago he saw Brady’s bed and wondered who would be assigned there this year. It wasn’t something that never happened, Belphegor had finished school the year before and a new kid, Andy, had joined their tent. Andy was a jokester and a bit of a stoner but overall had a good vibe to him. Yet, Sam didn’t think he was going to be ready for a new camp year without Brady, even though Brady had been gone almost a year everything had happened after camp. So although he had come to the tee-pee for a nap as Azazel had suggested, he found himself wallowing in thoughts of his friend and also of his father.
He was trying very hard to block his dad from his mind. Or as the voice in his head reminded him, not your dad, he gave you up, legally terminated that relationship. The anger would swell in his chest and crest in shaky breaths and then crash in pitiful half-fists.
“Sam?” Ketch called again.
Sam sits up, “Yeah?”
“You’re needed in the Visitor’s Center,” Ketch stands waiting, ready to escort him.
Sam gets up and leaves the tee-pee, he looks at Ketch strangely. He feels something is amiss. “Did he leave? Did the police take him away?” Ketch nods and sees how the boy’s chest loosens when he confirms this.
After walking a bit more, Ketch, who normally doesn’t speak or express any sort of personal opinion, says, “I was surprised that you had family.”
“Why?”
“Well,” Ketch lets out a short gruff laugh, “what type of family lets their kid go live with demons?”
“You met the guy.” Sam bites back acidly. “Besides, technically, he isn’t even family because he abandoned me.”
“Well DNA isn’t that easy to scrub off.” Ketch replies.
“Seems like it was for him.” Sam replies angrily. “Doesn’t matter, I made a new family, one that won’t abandon me, ever.
They cross the bridge that leads to the administrative buildings. Ketch opens the doors to the Visitor’s Center, Sam looks at him confused. “There’s someone here to see you.” Ketch says in a low voice, when Sam remains paralyzed in front of the door he adds a “Please.” Sam steps inside.
The visitor’s center is shrouded in shadows, nobody is working there at the moment. Camp hasn’t started. Sam feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Ketch says, “I’ll stand guard, don’t take too long.”
Sam wanders further in, his mind still unsure of what is going on. For a moment, he thought it might be Brady, his heart even quickened, but Brady is smarter than this, he would have gone to the high school.
And in his bones he knows.
Asmodeus had said on the phone “of course we saw them”. He had asked him why “his family members” were here. They had said “the men that were tailing them”. Plural. Two men. Sam had felt disappointment upon seeing John, upon only seeing him. Because he expected to see them both.
“Hi’ya Sammy.” The soft voice of his older brother sent chills of elation through his body.
“Dean!” All the air left his body in one second. His heart was slamming itself against its confines. Sam was moving so fast that he was uncoordinated. His arm easily swept above Dean’s neck; he chuckled and pulled back and lowered it placing it under his armpit. Then Sam stuck his head in the crook of Dean’s neck, although he had to hunch a bit to be able to do so.
Dean crosses his hands on Sam’s shoulder blades, “Damn Sammy, you got big.”
“Happens when you eat your veggies.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
They tightened their hug and every time one of the two made a move to step back, the other would grasp more tightly and pull them over into the hug again.
“Okay, that’s enough of that for now. We’ll hug more later. I’ll make a schedule to catch up on hugs. Promise. But we gotta get out of here.” Dean pulls back, a beautiful grin lighting up his face. “Your security man said he’d get us to the main road; there’s a gas station, and Dad is going to be waiting there if the cops didn’t lock him up. If they did, we hitch a ride out.”
“Wait, what? Sam asks, confused.
“We got to go before they start looking for you, because they think you are taking a nap? Like hello princess Sam, are you in for a rude awakening.”
“Ketch is getting us out?” Sam asks again, confused.
“Yeah, pretty solid dude. Come on.” Dean grabs Sam’s arm and turns towards the entrance, a hand on his waistband, where Sam imagines he carries a knife or perhaps even a gun by now, Dean has also grown up—he supposes his weapons are different too.
“Dean, no. I can’t.” Sam stops walking, he pulls his arm out of Dean’s grasp.
Dean turns to look at his brother. Really look at this tall, turning into a man stranger that he hasn’t seen in years. The squaring of his jaw, the glint in his eye, the way he juts his hip forward all stating that he is determined.
“Sam?” Dean poses it like a question, “What do you mean you can’t? All we have to do is walk 30-40 feet to the parking lot and get in the car. Then we go home.”
Sam shakes his head, he blows out a deep breath. “Dean, I am so happy to see you. So glad to know you are safe. But this is my home.”
“Sammy, home is where your family is. Where I am. Right?” Dean points at the painting of the Winged One, “This? This is a camp. A cult, Sammy. Happy colors and angels? Come on, you know better.”
Sam shifts his weight from one foot to another. He rubs his arm as if seeking warmth, “Dean, don’t get me wrong, when I was a child you were my home. All my life you watched out for me, took care of me, killed the monsters under the bed and the monsters outside the door and kept Dad in check. You did things a brother shouldn’t have to do.” Sam sees that Dean is fighting back tears, “Don’t, don’t hide them.” He stretches his hand forward and pulls Dean towards him. Their foreheads touch.
“Let’s go, Sammy. I came back for you.”
“I know, but Dean, I’m not Sammy anymore. I don’t need to go back. I’m sorry.” Sam whispers between tears.
“We can go wherever you want, Sam. Together.” Dean grabs Sam by both shoulders, near the base of his neck. Pulling him towards him desperately. “Sammy, why?” he sees Sam close his eyes, he can feel him steel his body to stand up straight, independently. “Don’t!” Dean refuses to believe that Sam is doing this. Hurt, Dean pushes Sam back off of him hard. Sam reels from the sudden loss of balance and trips backwards.
Two wings stretch down like arms from the mural and become a swing that wraps around Sam. Not only breaking his fall, but lifting him from the floor.
Dean yells for his brother in consternation, “Sam!” He scrambles towards his brother but feels a strong hand pulling him from behind.
Ketch pulls on Dean, dragging him towards the door and pulls Dean outside. The door closes. A burst of white light expands inside the center.
“Get out of here. Go.” Dean hears the words muffled as if he were underwater. His body reacts with muscle memory, and he starts sprinting off in a daze powered by fear.
Inside, a bright light radiates throughout the whole space. It pulsates, pale blue, purple, pink, silver and then pure white.
Sam is in the midst of the light. He is the Genesis. Sam has turned towards the wings, unafraid to be embraced by them.
“It had to be you, Sam. It always had to be you.”
Sam faces the Winged One.
“Yes.”
