A New Perspective, for alethiometry (part 4)

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FOUR

The three months that Sam spent across the world forever changed his life. His outlook on life, his thoughts on the military, everything was changed.

Even now, ten years later, he still finds himself thinking back on that time.

A lot has changed since then.

He can still remember the feeling he felt six months after he’d come home, when Zachariah had his article “fixed” by someone who worked a step above Sam. The horror that fed into a near-blind rage a month later when Zachariah told him they weren’t printing the article after all, since the buzz about the Wayward Sons had died down once the last mission occurred, when the leader of the group nearly died and one of the soldiers actually did. Sam was the only reporter to ever interview them, and his article would never even see the light of day.

But, in a move that surprised even him, Sam calmly turned and walked out of Zachariah’s office, walked to his computer and proceeded to delete his article, the revision, and every photo he’d turned in from the company’s computer system. Charlie, of course, talked him through it, and stood in shock as Sam walked back into Zachariah’s office and quit.

Not only did he quit, but he tore his boss to shreds, calling him—among other things—a mindless ape who couldn’t think for himself and a pathetic excuse for a human being. Zachariah’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he swore Sam would never work in journalism again.

But he was wrong.

While Sam was suffering through nightmares—with Jess helping him through them just like she’d promised—Charlie was a busy little bee. A year and a half after he returned from his time abroad, after he’d taken a job at the local coffee shop and was toying around with the idea of writing a novel, Charlie handed him a magazine. He was shocked to see his photo on the cover, the one of Cas kneeling beside Gabriel’s bed, but he was even more shocked when he saw that the entire magazine was his photos of the Wayward Sons, along with his original article and one he’d written and shown only to Charlie and Jess, which caused both of them to dissolve into tears halfway through reading.

While Sam was gone, Charlie had taken on some freelance work for an up-and-coming businessman. Richard Roman became indebted to Charlie, and when she asked if he’d like to begin publishing a magazine, he jumped at the chance. Their first issue, consisting of nothing but photos and a few articles about the Wayward Sons completely sold out across the globe, and won award after award, even getting special recognition from the President.

Since that issue, Integrity magazine has stayed atop the charts, selling out of local grocery and bookstores, with over a million subscribers. Sam and Charlie are co-CEOs, a far, far cry from their struggling college-student days.

But that’s not all that’s changed.

Sam turned back from looking out the bedroom window to watch Jess walk into the room, shaking her head and tossing up her hands.

“I give. You go and deal with this. I’m tagging you in.”

Sam let out a laugh as she pushed by him to walk into the bathroom, yanking open her makeup drawer. Sam sighed, straightening his tie and walking down the hall. He stopped at an open door, knocking gently. Jess’ bright green eyes looked up at him from a sweet little face.

“Daddy, she just doesn’t know.”

Sam smiled, stepping into the room and kneeling down.

“What doesn’t she know, buddy?”

The little boy in a white t-shirt and Spiderman underwear walked over to him, laying a little hand on Sam’s knee.

“Boy clothes. Mommy doesn’t know about them because she’s a girl.”

Sam narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t have to be a boy to know about boy clothes. Mommy could wear boy clothes if she wanted to.”

The little one shook his head.

“But she doesn’t get it. You get it, because you’re a boy.”

Sam stood up, accepting the little hand that slid into his, and walked over to the bed. He sat down, picking up the small pair of slacks. He leaned over, and the little boy put his hands on Sam’s shoulders, using him for balance as he stepped into the pants. Sam buttoned the pants once they were up, then shook out the little white dress shirt. He smiled, holding it out, and the boy smiled back as he slid his arms through it.

“So, I have a question for you.”

The boy nodded, raising his chin as Sam buttoned the shirt up.

“When your sister gets here, can I pick clothes out for her? Since she’ll be a girl, and I’m a boy?”

The boy nodded his head.

“You can pick them out, but you can’t dress her. Boys have to get dressed together, because they know how to get dressed.”
“You mean like with the ties and things?”

He nodded seriously, and Sam bit back his smile.

“I see. Mommy couldn’t help you get dressed, because she doesn’t wear ties.”
“Right.”

Sam nodded.

“I get it. But your logic is flawed, my man. Your mommy is great at tying ties.”
“Do I have to wear the tie?”
“You look so good in it. All grown up.”
“Are you wearing a tie?”
“Yep. A bow tie. Your mom’s going to tie it for me in a little bit.”

The little boy let out a longsuffering sigh—something he’d learned from Jess, Sam swore.

“All right. But only if you wear one, too.”

Sam stood up and held out his hand, and the little boy slid his hand into it. They walked down the hall, and Sam let out a whistle when they got to the bedroom.

“Gorgeous.”

Jess rolled her eyes as she finished fastening her earring, turning to face the boys in a long, golden-sequined gown that hugged the swell of her stomach.

“It looks okay? Not like I’m trying to smuggle a watermelon?”
“What does ‘smuggle’ mean?”

Sam and Jess exchanged a smile and Sam lifted his son onto the bed. Jess raised an eyebrow.

“I see you got dressed.”

Sam nodded.

“It’s boy stuff.”
“Is this like one of those ‘peeing outside’ conversations that I’ll never understand?”

Sam and the little boy nodded solemnly and Jess shook her head, laughing quietly.

“Thank god this one’s a girl. I can’t stand being so outnumbered.”

Sam smiled, walking over to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her belly and feeling the baby move as he kissed her. Sam leaned back just enough to rub his nose against hers, and she smiled.

“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“This is so gross.”

They laughed as they looked to the bed, where the boy was covering his eyes, shaking his head. Sam cleared his throat as he walked to the dresser, picking up his tie and walking to his wife.

“Play along.”

She raised an eyebrow at his muttered statement, but nodded. Sam put the tie in her hands and leaned his head back a bit. He glanced to the bed to see curious eyes watching them, and Jess quickly and efficiently tied his bow tie. Sam smiled, turning to the mirror, straightening the tie just a bit before turning back to the bed.

“See? She’s awesome.”

The boy smiled and nodded, lifting his chin as Jess walked over to the bed, bending over slightly as she tied his little bow tie, too.

“There.”

The little boy made grabby hands towards Sam, who lifted him up and held him as he walked to the mirror.

“Little man … We look good.”

The boy nodded, and Sam put him down. He ran out of the room with Jess on his heels. She stopped at the door.

“Robert Adam Wesson, you get those clothes dirty and your butt is mine!”

Sam let out a laugh that quickly morphed into a cough when Jess turned to glare at him. Sam shrugged his shoulders and Jess rolled her eyes.

“He’s going to be a mess when he gets to be a teenager. He’s almost five and look what we have to deal with.”
“Adam’s a good kid, Jess. Takes after his mama.”

Jess smiled, picking up Sam’s jacket and walking over to him, draping it over his shoulders and smoothing it out.

“I’m glad we’re going tonight.”

Sam nodded.

“Me, too. I’m excited to see everyone.”

He turned around and took her face in his hands, kissing her gently.

“What would I do without you?”
“Crash and burn, baby. We’ve talked about this.”

Sam laughed quietly, nodding his head.

“Thank you for putting up with me.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be. Now, come on, or we’re going to be late.”

****

“Kick-ass decorating job, if I do say so myself.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sipped the champagne Charlie had handed him. Jess watched him longingly, then grudgingly sipped her ginger ale. Sam took another sip, then glanced to Charlie.

“You don’t think it’s stupid?”

Charlie gave a longsuffering sigh so reminiscent of what he’d witnessed from his son earlier that Sam rethought where Adam might have learned it.

“I have told you, time and time again, it’s not stupid. It’s what people in your position do for things like this.”
“Throw black tie galas?”
“A book release—especially one like this, on this topic, written by you—calls for it.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath.

“Well, damn, rookie. You clean up good.”

Sam turned around, mouth falling open when he saw Dean standing there, one hand holding a cane, the other holding Anna. Sam laughed, stepping over and wrapping the man in a hug.

“God, I missed you.”
“Aw, rookie. I missed you, too. It’s been, what, four years now since I’ve seen you?”
“Five, actually. I know because—“
“Daddy, you said there would be chicken nuggets.”

Sam smiled, glancing down at the little hands tugging on his jacket. He knelt down, resting one hand against the boy’s stomach as Adam put his arm around Sam’s neck.

“Adam, this is my friend Mr. Dean. Can you say hello?”

Adam nodded, stepping away from Sam and holding out his hand.

“Hello. My name is Adam Wesson.”

Dean and Anna exchanged a smile.

“I’m Dean, and this is my wife, Anna.”

They both shook the little boy’s hand, and he turned back to Sam.

“Chicken nuggets.”

Sam shook his head.

“That’s a question for Aunt Charlie.”

Sam pointed towards the redhead, and Adam took off for her. Sam stood back up, wincing a moment before he turned to Dean and Anna. She leaned over and whispered something to Dean, and he nodded. She stepped away, walking over to Jess, who hugged her before they started talking. Sam motioned towards a table, and Dean nodded, making his way over. Dean groaned as they sat down, and he shook his head as he set his cane behind his chair.

“Had a knee replacement six months ago. Been a bitch to PT.”
“I was wondering if you’d gotten the surgery.”
“Well, I put it off as long as I could, but I really didn’t have much of a choice. That last mission fucked me up royally.”

Sam nodded, and Dean smiled.

“So you had a kid.”

Sam nodded, a smile crossing his face.

“And you named him Adam.”

The smile went soft and a little sad.

“Yeah, I … I just couldn’t shake him. He’s always on my mind, you know?”

Dean nodded.

“I do understand. It’s been the same for me. You know, Anna and I were going to name our little boy Adam, but we never got the chance.”

Sam smiled.

“How are the girls doing?”

Dean’s face lit up with a smile.

“They’re great. Grace is nine, and already giving me anxiety about boys.”

Sam laughed, and Dean went on.

“Jenna is six, and Allie, our little surprise, just turned two.”
“Three girls.”
“And Ben, of course. He’s fourteen, and his little sister’s hero. He adores them just as much. Lisa remarried when he was seven, but they never had any kids.”

Sam smiled. Anna requested a change in position shortly after Dean woke up from the medically-induced coma the doctors in Germany had decided was best for him. The reasoning behind her job switch was speculation for a while, until a few months later, when she started to show. Their daughter Grace was born in Germany, just down the hall from her father’s room.

Dean received an honorable discharge from the Army, as did Castiel. Shortly after Grace was born, Cas took a sabbatical, spending a couple years traveling the world, trying to find himself and the peace that had eluded him for most of his life. He found it, surprisingly, in Illinois, with Meg, running a children’s home.

“Oh, rookie.”

Sam glanced to Dean, who gave him a smile.

“Cas sends his regards. Said he would have loved to come, but he and Meg are knee-deep in trying to adopt these twins.”
“Twins?”

Dean smiled and nodded.

“Two-year-old little boy and a little girl. They’ve had a shitty life so far, and Cas and Meg have just fallen in love. No doubt in my mind that they’ll get them, but it’s just taking time.”

Dean tapped Sam’s arm, pointing towards the door. Sam smiled, standing up and making his way towards the man standing there in Army fatigues.

“Corporal.”

A laugh rang out a second before Sam had his arms full of his old friend.

“Sasquatch!”
“Good to see you, Gabe.”
“It’s good to see you, too. And, it’s Master Sergeant, not Corporal anymore, thank you very much.”

Sam laughed, hugging Gabe one more time, then pointing him towards Dean as the door opened again, and a tall black man in an official-looking suit walked in.

“Victor.”

Victor walked over, wrapping Sam in a hug before he stepped back. Sam held up his hands.

“My bad, Agent Henrikson.”

Victor rolled his eyes, a smile on his face.

“No one’s supposed to know about that, Writer Boy.”

Sam smiled.

“No one knows except me. Well, and my wife.”

Victor rolled his eyes again, and a loud whistle made both of them turn around. Ash walked in two steps ahead of Benny, who whistled under his breath.

“Check out the digs. Very nice.”

Sam hugged them both, and they all walked over to the table where Dean and Gabe were talking. They all took a seat after taking their time welcoming each other back, hugging and laughing. Sam couldn’t help but sit back and take in the sight in front of him, the soldiers that used to be.

The Wayward Sons were disbanded after the mission that went horribly wrong. Gabe was the only one who stayed in the service, taking a more administrative job. Cain went home to his wife in France, and no one really hears from him anymore. Benny moved back to Louisiana, married his high school sweetheart, and opened a restaurant. Victor took a job with the FBI and moved to D.C. Ash tended bar for a while, until he got the job offer of a lifetime, as a flight instructor.

Garth and Kevin still did communications, albeit in a different context. Garth hosts a radio show that is nationally syndicated, and Kevin still translates ancient documents, but at the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington, D.C. Anna, of course, married Dean and settled down in Kansas. Abby is a trauma surgeon somewhere on the West Coast, and Meg followed Abby for a while, until Castiel came and got her.

“So Writer Boy.”

Sam smiled, turning to Benny, who gave him a wide smile.

“When’s this book coming out?”
“Next week. On the … the day Adam would have turned thirty.”

The table went quiet, and the men all held soft, fond smiles on their faces. Jess walked over, handing Sam a glass half-full of whiskey, laying her hand on his shoulder. Ash cleared his throat.

“What’s it called again?”

Sam smiled.

“A New Perspective: The Story of the Wayward Sons.”

They all nodded, those same smiles still on their faces. Dean clapped his hands.

“Gonna be a best-seller, I guaran-damn-tee it.”

Laughter filled the air, so different from the last time they were all together. Even though he’d seen most of the guys a few times since they were all over there, this was the first time they’d all been together, save for Castiel and Cain. Sam looked around, taking it all in, smiling at the life he had.

“Hey, Writer Boy.”

Sam smiled as he looked over to Benny.

“What you smilin’ at?”

Sam let out a laugh.

“Us. This. Did you ever think something like this would happen?”

Benny shook his head, sharing glances with each of the men around the table, who’d gone quiet as they listened to Benny and Sam. Dean cleared his throat, reaching for his bottle of beer.

“Well, I say let’s keep this sappy for a minute and have a toast.”

Good-natured grumbles sounded around the table, but they all lifted their glasses. Dean started them off.

“To the Wayward Sons.”

Victor smiled, holding up his glass of bourbon.

“To the boys we were, and the men we became.”

Benny lifted his Jack and Coke.

“To the good times, and the bad times, for making us appreciate life.”

Gabriel looked into his glass of beer, then lifted it.

“To the brothers we lost.”

Ash smiled, lifting his can of PBR.

“And the strangers who became our brothers.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but looked over to Dean, who smiled, still holding his bottle in the air.

“I think it’s safe to say we kicked it in the ass.”

Laughter rang out around the table, before they all stood up, clinking their glasses and bottles together, speaking in one voice.

“To the Wayward Sons!”