A New Perspective, for alethiometry (part 3)

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THREE

For two weeks, Sam spoke with each member of the teams, getting “official” interviews with them. He spent a lot of time with Garth and Kevin. Kevin still didn’t talk much. He didn’t do much but eat and translate. Gabe, for some reason, had nicknamed him ‘Prophet.’ The rest of the guys just went along with it.

Abby and Meg got so used to Sam hanging around that they gave him jobs to do. He didn’t mind folding up sheets and towels and counting medicine bottles, and his organization skills really impressed both of the medical professionals.

He kept his distance from Dean, who repaid him in the same manner. Castiel was friendly towards Sam, which was how he found himself in his tent with the dark-haired man reading over the rough draft of his article. Sam was quiet while Cas read, and when he got to the end, the man had a small smile on his face.

“This is good, Sam.”
“Thank you.”

Cas nodded, putting the pages in order and laying them on the makeshift desk/table Sam had his things piled up on. Cas set his hand on the pages, then spoke softly.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sam smiled to himself, since Cas hadn’t lifted his head.

“Sure.”
“Is this really what you wanted to write?”

Sam blinked, and Castiel slowly looked over to him.

“I mean really and truly, could you stand by this article and say it’s the best thing you’ve ever written?”

Sam didn’t answer, and Cas looked back at the pages.

“Could you say it’s the most truthful thing you’ve ever written?”
“Journalists aren’t known for their truth-telling, Cas.”

Castiel smiled, nodding his head.

“I know. But, Sam … this article did everything but jump up and start singing God Bless the U.S.A. It’s good, but it’s so star-spangled pro-military, pro-America, pro-war that I’m kind of … Honestly, I’m a little bit ashamed.”

Sam sat back.

“You’re ashamed?”
“Not of your writing. You have a real talent with your words. It’s the message you’re implying where I have a problem. What I got from this article is that the men of the teams wake up smiling every morning, excited to run out and greet the day. Like this is the job of a lifetime and we’re all blessed to get to live it.”

Cas shook his head.

“That’s not what we are, Sam.”

He rubbed the palms of his hands on his pants and stood to his feet. He set his hands on his hips as he paced.

“We’re not here because we love the job. We’re here out of a sense of duty. We love our country, and we do what we can to keep it safe. All I’ve ever known is the military. I’m a soldier, Sam. I can’t even introduce myself to someone without verifying that point first. Staff Sergeant Castiel Novak.”

He shook his head, letting out a sigh.

“You think I’d choose this life? Spending every day wondering if today’s the day I meet the wrong end of a rifle? Or run over a roadside bomb? Do you know what it’s like to look at every single person that walks past you on the street and wonder if they’ve got a bomb strapped to them underneath their clothes? If this little girl that you help will bring you back to her mother, who will blow you all away?”

Cas crossed his arms over his chest, looking down.

“I love the guys in this unit. I’d lay my life down for them in a second. One of my brothers actually did lay his life down. The reasoning is still fuzzy behind that one, but the point of the matter is, if I had a choice, I’d much rather be doing a job where I didn’t worry about whether today is my last day on Earth or not.”

Sam swallowed, speaking softly.

“I don’t understand how you don’t have a choice.”

Cas looked up, and Sam shook his head.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m not trying to undermine anything you’ve said. I just … You don’t have to be a soldier. It’s not a requirement.”

Sam blew out his breath.

“This is not coming out at all like I wanted it to.”

Cas smiled.

“I understand what you’re saying. And it’s okay. You haven’t offended me or anything.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he glanced down, smiling softly when he looked back at Sam.

“For my family, it was a requirement. My father was a chaplain in the Army. My grandfather served in World War II. My great-grandfather served in World War I. I was supposed to go to West Point, then serve in whatever branch I chose. That choice was mine, but after meeting Dean, I really don’t think it was my choice.”

A fond smile crossed his face.

“I knew I’d go wherever he went. You know how sometimes you just meet someone and it’s … like they’re your soulmate? I know how ‘gay’ it sounds or whatever, but that shit doesn’t matter to me. Dean and I have … I like to tease him and say we have a ‘profound bond.’ And no one says your soulmate has to be in a romantic way.”

Sam smiled, and Cas glanced over at him, sharing a grin.

“He’s my best friend. Has been ever since I care to remember. I was the best man at his wedding, and hopefully, one day he can be mine. Even with the shit-ton of brothers that I have.”

Sam let out a laugh, and Cas shook his head again, that same fond smile on his face.

“I made my choice. And I chose to follow Dean. I guess I’ll stick with him ‘til we’re old and senile.”

Sam nodded, looking over to his desk and letting out a sigh.

“It is a pile of crap. The article, I mean.”

Cas glanced at his feet and smiled.

“Not everything.”
“Ninety-five percent.”
“At least eighty.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“Guess I’ll be sticking around a little while longer.”

Cas nodded.

“Guess so.”

****

Even as hot as it was, Sam still enjoyed being outside. He’d always liked the outdoors, ever since he could remember. He was into sports as a child, until junior high, when his legs and arms grew at alarming rates and he felt like a baby deer trying to walk. He got the hang of it again when his body caught up to his limbs, even playing as a starter on the basketball team his senior year.

There was a hoop set up on a makeshift court, and Sam played a few nights with some of the guys. He felt almost brotherly towards Adam, and the two of them spent a lot of time together just talking. Gabriel, Benny, Victor, and Ash welcomed Sam like an old friend, and acted that way around him. He was comfortable with them. He had a surprisingly in-depth conversation with Cain one day, and walked away with a newfound respect for the quiet, reserved man.

But he didn’t approach Dean.

A month after he arrived on the base, Sam was sitting a chair outside the medic tent when Dean walked up to him.

“Wesson. You got a minute?”

Sam blinked behind his shades, but nodded. He stood up, groaning as his muscles protested and his spine popped. He put his hands in his pockets and walked at a slow pace beside Dean. They didn’t speak until they were a little ways from the camp, no longer surrounded by anyone. Dean sighed.

“I owe you an apology.”

Sam blinked again, but kept his mouth shut. Dean shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have said the things I did to you. I get you were just trying to help, but we’d been chasing that bastard for what seems like years, and you—“

He stopped, shaking his head again.

“I’m trying to blame you for something you had nothing to do with. And I can’t tell you anything else besides that because it’s fucking classified. I’m so goddamn sick of dealing with classified bullshit.”

Sam bit his lip to keep the smile away from his mouth. Dean sighed again.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You actually helped, in a way. Didn’t do us much good because we—“

Dean glanced over, and Sam guessed they would have locked eyes, had they both not been wearing sunglasses. Dean cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Because we did not complete our mission at that time.”

Sam slowly nodded, and Dean did the same.

“And on top of that, you kept your distance afterwards. I was pissed off, which you probably knew, and maybe you were pissed off, too. But I appreciate you not trying to get in my face and tell me how wrong I was and how right you were or trying to immediately fix it.”

Dean shook his head again.

“People don’t get that. Everyone’s always trying to clear the air right away. Sometimes, I just need to be mad for a while, you know?”

Sam nodded, a half-smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I know.”
“Lisa never understood that.”

Sam’s eyebrows quirked up, and Dean sighed, a smile on his face.

“Sneaky little bastard.”
“I didn’t even say anything!”

Dean laughed, and Sam just shook his head, unable to keep the smile off his face. Dean shook his head, but smiled, as well.

“Lisa’s my ex-wife. I’m sure by now someone’s told you about her.”

Sam shook his head.

“Abby let it slip that the two of you had a thing once, but it was before you were married. All I knew was that you, at one point in your life, had a wife.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded.

“Met her about six, seven years ago on a break. She teaches yoga, and that was the bendiest weekend of my life.”

Sam closed his eyes as he laughed, and the smile on Dean’s face lit up the desert.

“She wrote to me when I was deployed for a year, and when I got back home, I asked her to marry me.”

Dean’s smiled softened, and he reached into the front pocket of his shirt, pulling out a small photo.

“Four years ago, the best thing that ever happened to me was born. That’s my son, Ben.”

Sam shook his head.

“He’s gorgeous.”
“Looks just like Lisa. Dark hair like she has, but he’s got my eyes and taste for classic rock.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the photo in his hand, and he gave it back to Dean, who took it and sighed.

“It’s a miracle I got to be there when he was born. I was so scared I’d miss it. But everything worked out, and he waited for me. I was the first one to hold him.”

Dean slowly moved his finger across the picture, then sighed.

“I got to stay home the first two years. I got deployed again shortly after his third birthday, and Lisa just … She couldn’t deal with me being gone so long. It’s not like I really made it easy on her, either. It really was the best thing for all of us for her and me to split up.”

He glanced down, running his thumb over his ring finger.

“Kinda sucks, to be honest. But she’s fine. Ben’s doing great. We talk as much as we can, all three of us. She and I promised we’d do whatever it took to make it easy for him, and so far, so good.”

He sighed again, lifting his head to look out over the sand.

“I missed his birthday this year. I didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did, but … I was wrong. I don’t …”

Dean shook his head.

“I don’t know how to be anything other than a soldier. But I’m his dad, and that comes before anything else. I don’t know how to balance it out.”
“Isn’t that the point of being a parent?”

Dean glanced to Sam, who shrugged.

“Learning to balance?”

Dean nodded.

“I guess so. You married?”

Sam smiled.

“Almost three years.”
“Kids?”
“Not yet. One day, but we’re sticking with dogs for now.”

Dean nodded again.

“Best thing you’ll ever do. Hardest thing you’ll ever do, but trust me, it’s definitely worth it.”

Sam smiled as he looked down, sticking his hands back in his pockets. Dean sighed, then started walking, smiling to himself when Sam stepped in sync beside him.

“None of that goes in your article or I’ll break every bone in your body.”
“It hurts that you think you have to clarify that.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head.

“Glad to see we’re on the same page, rookie.”
“No problem, Dad.”

Dean groaned and Sam laughed, keeping the smile on his face as they made it back to base.

****
The guys had gone on two more expeditions—at least, that’s what Sam thought of them as—in the month and a half that Sam had been there. Anna would come and collect him, walking around with him while he snapped pictures, talking to him while they walked. They spent a good amount of time in the comm tent, joking around with Garth and even getting Kevin out of his shell a little bit more. When they got bored there, they’d go to the medic tent, where Abby would keep Sam rolling with tales of her wilder years, and when she took a break Meg was more than happy to step in.

Benny came back from the second mission with a huge gash on his arm. Abby stitched him up while Sam snapped pictures from a safe distance, away from the blood and grossness. The third mission went a little haywire, and Gabe, Adam, Victor, and Dean all ended up with smoke inhalation and had to spend the night in the medic tent getting oxygen. Cas sat out in what Sam thought of as the common area, accepting coffee from Meg and alternating between checking on his brother and his best friend. Sam stayed with him, and felt horrible about taking photos, but Dean urged him to do it.

And when everyone saw one of the pictures that Sam had taken, of Cas kneeling beside his brother’s bed, hanging his head and gripping Gabe’s hand, not a word was spoken.

****

“You all right there, Sasquatch?”

Sam let out a sigh, looking up and seeing Adam standing in front of him. Sam smiled, closing one eye at the near-blinding sun.

“I thought I told you to stop hanging around Gabe.”

Adam let out a quiet laugh, moving to take a seat on the ground beside Sam. He sat the same way Sam was, with his knees partially drawn up and his elbows resting on his knees, forearms dangling. They were quiet for a minute, until Adam spoke up.

“What’s on your mind?”

Sam sighed again, looking out over the camp from the slightly elevated spot Sam had found. He shook his head.

“I just …”

Sam exhaled harshly, clenching his hands into fists.

“I can’t stop thinking about my dad.”

Adam nodded.

“In South Dakota?”

Sam swallowed, glancing down. He and Adam spent a lot of time together talking. They’d discussed their families during one of their first talks. Sam took in a breath, letting it out slowly.

“No, that … That’s not really my dad.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t one who jumped in to give his opinion, something Sam appreciated. Adam was a good listener, which is why, Sam supposed, he spoke the sentence he did.

“My father … killed himself when I was thirteen.”

Adam’s mouth fell open.

“Sam.”

Sam sighed, lifting a hand to rub at his chin. Adam didn’t say anything else. He just stared at Sam until Sam could speak again.

“My dad was a vet. Went to Vietnam. Came home, met and married my mom. Had me. And then my mom, she—“

Sam stopped looking down at his feet, swallowing hard.

“She died when I was seven.”

Adam shook his head, reaching over and laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Hang on, okay? Why don’t you … start from the beginning?”

Sam sighed.

“Kansas. I was born in Lawrence, Kansas. Even had a dog named Toto once.”

Adam smiled, and Sam went on.

“My dad was always different. I knew that while I was growing up. He didn’t come to anything at school, didn’t coach little league. He drank a lot. A lot. I remember him leaving and moving out a lot, but Mom always took him back.”

Sam took in a breath.

“She got sick when I was five. Breast cancer, just like her mother. They thought they cured it, but the next year, she had a brain tumor. Three months after she was diagnosed, she died. And Dad … went a little crazy.”

Sam looked out over the sand, losing himself in memories for a moment.

“He yanked me out of school, threw some shit into a few bags and loaded me in the car. We drove literally across the country for the next year. I didn’t go to school. I liked to read, so wherever we ended up, I tried to snatch some books. Dad was convinced we were hunting something. The thing that took my mom, he said.”

Sam swallowed again.

“I tried to tell him that nothing had taken her. She’d been sick, and there hadn’t been anything the doctors could have done. But Dad was adamant about it. He’d either sit up all night and stare at his wedding ring or the picture of them that he’d brought from the house, or he’d drink until he passed out.”

Sam pushed a hand through his hair.

“Someone had to take care of him, but I was … I was seven years old. I didn’t even realize my birthday had passed until months later. Someone asked me how old I was and I didn’t even know I’d already turned eight.”

He looked down at his hands, at his own wedding ring.

“I knew something was wrong. People didn’t do that, you know? Kids were supposed to be in school, and dads were supposed to go to work. I tried to tell him that, but he’d just … He never got too violent, you know? But he did smack me around a bit. If I did something he thought was wrong, he’d let me know and he’d punish me. But he never beat me up or punched me or anything like that. He wasn’t abusive.”

Sam swallowed, lifting his head to look out over the base again.

“I found his journal when he was passed out once. Flipped through the back until I found his sister’s number. My aunt Ellen lived in Nebraska, I thought. But she’d gotten married and moved to South Dakota. The guy at her old number gave me the one she left for any forwarding messages or whatever, and she flipped her shit when I called. She’d been searching for me and Dad ever since we took off. I told her where we were, and she and her husband came.”

Sam smiled softly.

“Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bobby are who I think of as my parents. I call them Mom and Dad, just like my cousin Jo does.”

Adam smiled back, and Sam let out a breath.

“Dad agreed to let me go with them, because Uncle Bobby convinced him that I needed to be in school. But Dad wouldn’t go with us. He said he’d come check on me soon. It was three years later before I saw him again.”

Adam closed his eyes.

“Three years?”
“Yeah. And he was … He looked horrible. He had this long beard, smelled of alcohol and worse, since it had to have been weeks since he bathed. Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bobby took him in, cleaned him up. Hid his keys.”

Sam smiled a bit, before he slid from his face.

“Uncle Bobby convinced him to look into this … assisted living community or something. Said it was for his drinking, but a couple years ago, I found out it was really a kind of mental health facility. They got him on some medication, helped him stop drinking. Aunt Ellen and I went to see him once a month, and he lived in that place for three whole years.”

Sam shook his head.

“But he … I don’t know. I don’t know if he stopped taking the medicine, or if they didn’t have him on the right stuff, or if it was just fate or whatever. Aunt Ellen and I went for our visit, and Dad and I spent the afternoon together. We played cards, talked about Mom, and he told me stuff about his time as a soldier. Told him I was thinking of trying out for the baseball team at school, and he told me I’d be great. I said that I loved him and I’d see him next month, and we went home.”

Sam swallowed again, his voice going quiet and just a little bit shaky.

“So when we got the call that he’d hung himself in his room, it was a complete shock.”

Adam held a hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“God, man.”
“I know. I had just seen him. He told me he loved me, that he was proud of me, that my mother would be proud of me.”

Sam shook his head.

“But he … he hadn’t acted as calm as he had before. He was nervous, pretty jittery. Made me promise never to go back to Kansas. The nurse said he hadn’t been doing as well lately, but they were working with him. Everything would be okay.”

Sam let out a laugh.

“But it wasn’t.”

He sniffled, lifting his head to look up at the sun again, then back to the sand.

“When Jess—my wife—was in medical school, I used to help her study. She had this psych rotation thing, and we had a long talk about my dad. She decided that he had PTSD. I’d figured that one out for myself. He couldn’t handle fireworks or thunderstorms. Seeing soldiers in uniform would send him into an almost catatonic state, and we’d drive until he was all but asleep at the wheel.”

Sam squinted his eyes, then spoke again.

“Jess diagnosed him with anxiety, alcoholism, paranoia. And then when Mom died, she said he just … snapped. Him taking me and traipsing all over the country, then leaving me and going off on his own … She thought maybe he had a touch of bipolar disorder, possibly schizophrenia.”

Sam shook his head, letting out a sigh.

“But she was just going off my memories, and I was just a kid. Plus, Jess delivers babies now. She left the shrink stuff behind years ago.”

Sam looked down at his hands, and Adam bit his lip, then spoke, softly and as gently as he could.

“Why does being out here make you think of him?”

Sam looked over at Adam, studying his face. He was so young, but mature beyond his years. His voice was so deep, betraying his age. Sam smiled.

“Soldiers.”

Sam lifted a shoulder, letting it drop back down.

“Above all, Dad was a Marine. The reason my hair looks like this, from my first haircut to age nine, I had nothing but a high-and-tight.”
“No shit?”

Sam laughed, and Adam joined in.

“I swear. Soon as I went to stay with Aunt Ellen, I started letting it grow.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders, then sighed.

“Seeing you guys and how you all work together … I don’t know. I guess I … I just keep thinking that if Dad had been in a unit like this one, then maybe—maybe things could have turned out differently.”

After a moment, Adam leaned forward, placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“You can’t think like that.”
“It’s easy for you to say, but …”

Adam let out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. But I’m kind of an unofficial expert on playing the ‘What If’ game.”

Sam glanced over, and Adam gave him a sad smile.

“What if my dad had hung around? Hell, what if I’d met the man? What if Mom had remarried? She might not have had to work nights. She might not have had to work at all. So then maybe she wouldn’t have been driving home so late. Well, early. And then she might not have been hit by that drunk that had been out all night.”

Adam sighed, leaning back.

“But then, I might not have been here. Actually, I know for a fact that I would definitely not be here. And I wouldn’t have met these guys, and I can’t help but think that my life wouldn’t be as … awesome as it is now.”

He leaned over again, bumping hid shoulder against Sam’s.

“Plus, I wouldn’t have met you. So, you know.”

Sam smiled, nodding.

“You’re one lucky son of a gun.”

Adam laughed, shaking his head when he looked at Sam with a smile. Sam took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

Adam nodded.

“I’m sorry about your dad. Both your parents, actually.”

Sam nodded back, and Adam let his breath out slowly.

“We can’t dwell on them, you know. Our parents. The past is in the past, and as hard as it is, we’ve got to move … well, past it. Sorry, I couldn’t think of a better word.”

Sam let out a quiet laugh.

“It’s okay.”
“But it is true, you know.”

Sam slowly nodded.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just hard to do.”

Adam smiled, nodding his head.

“Yeah, if I ever accomplish it, I’ll let you know.”

Sam shook his head, a smile on his face. Adam stood to his feet, letting out a groan as he stretched his arms. He held out a hand to Sam, helped him to his feet.

“Let’s see if we can find some food, huh?”

Sam smiled, nodding his head, letting out a quiet laugh when Adam slung his arm around Sam’s waist, because he couldn’t reach his shoulders. Sam shrugged his arm off, then looped his own arm over Adam’s shoulders.

****

Sam stood at the opening of the communications tent, with Anna on one side and Garth on the other, watching as the teams loaded up their gear again. Gabe walked over and bumped fists with Sam, both of them smiling as Gabe walked over to the Humvee. Adam gave Sam a salute, which made Sam smile before he returned it.

Garth went back into the tent, but Sam stood beside Anna as they watched the Humvees drive away. Anna slowly let out a breath, laying a hand against her stomach as soon as the vehicles were out of sight. She shook her head, pushing a smile on her face.

“Okay. Where we going tonight?”

Sam smiled.

“I was actually thinking about going back to my tent and writing some.”

Anna smiled at him, nodding her head.

“That’s fine with me. I can help Garth out with a few things. Paperwork and something else he was trying to tell me about, but I kind of tuned him out.”

Sam let out a laugh, holding open the door for Anna, and waiting until she was inside the tent before he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked back to his tent. He booted up his laptop and stretched out his arms, leaning back and stretching his spine, then sitting at the computer and pulling up a fresh Word document.

****

“SAM!”

He lifted his head, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to something besides a computer screen. He heard his name again, and stumbled up from the chair at his desk, walking out of the tent as his name was screamed again.

“Anna?”

He grabbed hold of her arms as she ran up, stumbling as she got close to him. Her face was pale, more so than her usual porcelain skin tone, and she was trembling.

“Anna, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, looking up at him, dark eyes wide and scared.

“We need—we need your help.”
“With what?”
“In the med—in the medic tent.”

Sam shook his head.

“Anna, what’s—“
“Come on.”

She held his hand as she walked back to the medic tent, stopping inside the doorway. Abby and Meg were rushing around, grabbing different instruments and supplies, calling out to each other. Meg finally lifted her head long enough to see Sam and Anna, and she whistled. Abby stopped what she was doing, turning back and seeing them. She walked over, stopping in front of them.

“Shut it off.”
“What?”
“Your brain. You can’t use it right now, all right?”
“What the hell’s going on?”

Abby looked to Anna, who was still trembling, standing close to Sam, still holding his hand. Abby sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. Something happened in the field, and for them to call us ahead of time, it’s something bad. At least two guys are injured, and since there’s no one out there with professional medical training, we don’t know how badly.”
“Why don’t they have a medic with them?”

Abby sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. They never have a medic with them. It’s not protocol or something. Benny and Cas have slight medical training, but …”

She trailed off, looking to Meg, then back to Anna.

“Anna.”

She spoke sharply, harshly, and Anna blinked before she looked to her. Abby’s face was hard, and her tone sharp as she spoke.

“Did you make the call?”

Anna nodded.

“Garth was radioing them in when I went to get Sam.”

Abby nodded.

“Go back to the comm tent and sit with Kevin.”
“I—I need to—“
“Anna, go. Now.”

Anna nodded, finally letting Sam’s hand go as she walked away. Sam looked to Abby, who closed her eyes as she shook her head.

“She’s freaking out because we don’t know who it is. I know I seemed mean just then, but gentle doesn’t get through to her in times like this.”

Sam nodded.

“Abby, what am I doing here?”

Abby blew out a breath.

“We need the help.”
“I don’t have any medical training.”
“I know you don’t. You’re not going to be doing surgery. We need the lift help. You might need to help hold them down. Your height can be of a serious advantage, if need be. And if nothing else, you can watch the guys who swear they’re ‘fine’ and make sure they actually are.”

Sam slowly nodded, letting out a breath. Meg walked over with a pair of gloves, a pair of goggles, and a paper gown.

“Put this on.”

Sam nodded, following Meg’s instructions, turning around after he slid the gown on so she and Abby could tie it for him. He bent down to let them slide the goggles on his face, then he slid the gloves on his hands.

“Try not to touch anything, okay?”

Sam nodded, and Abby and Meg dressed in their own gowns. Sam swallowed, trying to fight back the terror that was trying to crawl up his spine. He heard footsteps outside the tent, and watched as Garth walked in, followed by a shorter, bearded man with a tall, efficient-looking woman beside him, dark hair pulled back in a bun. A woman walked up beside her, dark eyes taking in the room before her, before a tall, muscular man rounded out their group. Garth motioned back with his head.

“Cavalry’s here. ETA is seven minutes.”

Abby nodded, walking up and diving into conversation with the newcomers. Meg walked up to Sam as she pulled gloves on her hands.

“The bearded guy, Crowley, is a doctor over in the next base, and Naomi’s a surgeon at the local hospital. Zeke and Hester are nurses. They’ve come in as backup.”
“Meg, this is really bad, isn’t it?”

Meg looked down, taking in a deep breath before she swallowed hard. She lifted her dark eyes to Sam’s, worry and fear evident.

“Yes, Sam. This is really bad.”

They both glanced over as they heard a commotion, and Abby nodded. Hester and Zeke handed gowns and gloves to Crowley and Naomi, and they all hurried outside. Sam stopped in his tracks at the men piling out of the one Humvee. Cain stepped out with a limp body in his arms, Gabriel behind him, helping to support the man’s head. Crowley, Abby and Meg rushed over to them, and Benny climbed out from the driver’s seat, blood pouring down his face. Naomi and Hester went to him, and he shook his head.

“They need help more than me.”
“Can you tell us what happened?”

Sam watched as Crowley pointed to the tent, and Cain and Gabriel walked behind Meg, who was running ahead of them. Abby followed them, stopping at Zeke and pointing him towards the Humvee, motioning for Hester to follow her. Sam walked over to Benny, watching as he spit to the side, blood coating his teeth as he spoke.

“IED hit the … I don’t even know which one. I can’t remember if my group hit the bomb or if we stopped to help, but before we could … heavy fire. Just coming from everywhere. I don’t know how the hell we got out of there.”
“Do you know how badly you’re hurt?”

Benny shook his head.

“Cut on my head. Chest hurts, think some of my ribs are busted. But they need more help than me. Give me a rag and I’ll hold pressure on my head.”

Naomi nodded, lifting her head when she heard Crowley call for her. Sam stepped closer, and Benny shook his head.

“We’ve never been hit this hard, writer boy.”
“Come on. I’ll find that rag for you.”
“No, you … You got to help them. I’m fine.”
“Help who, Benny?”
“Sam?”

Sam looked over to see Zeke standing by the back of the Humvee.

“We need you back here.”

Sam nodded, squeezing Benny’s shoulder before he walked around to the rest of them. His eyes widened when he took in the blood, thankful for the darkness, that he couldn’t see how badly this man was hurt. Zeke nodded to Sam.

“We need your help bringing him in. Hold him steady. Don’t move him or jostle him too much, all right?”

Sam nodded, hearing Naomi’s soft voice.

“You’ve got to let him go so that we can help him, Castiel. Okay? We’ve got to get him inside and work on him.”

Castiel? Sam swallowed hard as he looked closer, seeing for the first time, a bloody and battered Cas with the soldier’s head in his lap. And Sam closed his eyes as he realized that if Cas was sitting there, holding on the way that he was, it could only mean one thing.

“It’s Dean.”

Zeke and Naomi flicked their eyes up, nodding once. Cas slowly lifted his head, and Sam nodded.

“We’ve got him, Cas. Come on.”

Sam leaned into the vehicle, sliding his arms where Cas’ were, holding Dean the way Cas had been. Cas just sat there as Zeke slid his arms under Dean’s torso, as Crowley and Naomi spoke to each other and Zeke, hurrying into the tent.

Sam laid Dean on a stretcher as gently as he could, taking a bag of saline from someone and holding it up. He heard shouts from all around, and the chaos of the room nearly knocked him off his feet. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sam.”

A hard tone made him open his eyes, and he looked into the hazel eyes of the man who was almost as tall as he was. Zeke had his shoulders squared, hands working competently as his eyes were on Sam.

“Shut it down.”
“I can’t—I don’t know how.”
“Just stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

Sam shook his head, and Zeke looked down, then back to him.

“We can’t work on him with you shaking like that. Now calm the fuck down and shut your mind off.”

Sam hadn’t even realized that he was shaking. He looked up to see the liquid in the bag sloshing around. Jess’ voice came to his mind, talking about IV’s and saline bags and how they had to be hung beside the patient’s bed. He took in a breath and let it out slowly, staring at the bag while Jess’ voice kept sounding in his ears. Nothing that he could explain, nothing he could really even understand. Just the familiar sound of the woman he loved.

Sam had to look away when Naomi got a scalpel and made an incision. Jess was the medical professional in the family. Sam got queasy at the sight of blood. He heard something about “compartment syndrome” and racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d helped Jess study that, if he could remember what it meant. He came up empty, but Jess’ giggle was in his ear.

He tried to look across the room, at Abby and Meg and Hester, but they were moving so fast it made him dizzy. When they moved their patient into another room, a feat Sam didn’t even realize was possible, Sam realized that he didn’t know who they were working on. He’d never found out who the other man was, or if anyone else was injured.

“Mr. Wesson, is it?”

Sam blinked, looking over to Naomi, who was bent over Dean’s body, doing something with her hands that Sam honestly didn’t want to know the details of. She looked up at him and he nodded, and she smiled softly.

“Why don’t you go and check on the others? We’ve got this here.”
“I—I’m not a …”
“Oh, I know that, dear. Just check on them for me.”

Crowley lifted his head, pointing a bloody finger at Sam.

“Get Mr. Tran to place a call to a friend of mine, Dr. Balthazar. He can come and stitch up who needs it.”

Zeke stepped over, gently taking the saline bag from Sam’s hand and hanging it above Dean’s bed. He nodded, laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam nodded, listening to Zeke’s quiet instructions as to how to remove his gloves and the gown, which was spackled with blood.

“Crowley, we need help now!”

Crowley glanced up and Naomi nodded at him. He moved away from Dean’s side, and Zeke stepped in, taking his place. Crowley hurried to the other room, stripping gloves off on the way. Sam glanced over at the body on the stretcher, quickly glancing away when all he could see was blood. So much blood.

Dean’s blood.

Sam let out a shaky breath, turning and walking out of the room. He ran out of the tent, gasping when he was outside, stopping and bending over, breathing in deeply. He did everything he could to calm himself down, but he ended up running behind the tent, bending over again and throwing up everything he’d eaten that day.

After a few minutes, he leaned up, breathing in again and exhaling harshly. He heard a quiet cough behind him and he turned, seeing Cain standing there, holding out a glass of water. Sam blinked, reaching a shaking hand out and taking the cup, sloshing it just a bit as he sipped it, washing his mouth out the best he could and spitting the water onto the ground.

“We were bombarded.”

Sam stared into the cup as Cain spoke.

“The IED rattled our Humvee, enough to put it out of commission, but not us. We were just knocked around a little, and the other team stopped to make sure we were all right, to gather our supplies and pile us all in their ride.”

Cain took in a breath, letting it out slowly.

“When we were all out of the vehicles, there was … I don’t remember who saw it, but there was another bomb. We tried to get out of the way, but … I don’t know if Dean didn’t hear, or if he was trying to make sure the rest of us were all right, or what.”

Cain shook his head as he looked down.

“The kid jumped in, grabbing Dean and pushing him out of the way, but the bomb went off too soon. They were both blasted back, and before the dust even settled, we were taking heavy fire. Maybe it started as the bomb blew; I couldn’t even tell you.”

Cain blew out a breath.

“It just … It happened so fast.”

Cain lifted a hand, rubbing it over his mouth and shaking his head.

“I think we had incorrect information, and this whole thing just went to hell before we could even turn around.”

Cain lifted his head, looking over at Sam, who was looking back at him. They just stared for a moment, and Cain sighed, motioning with his head. Sam followed him, coming to a stop when he got to the group.

Gabe lifted his head, a cut just above his right eye that was quickly swelling. Victor was holding a rag to a cut on his cheek, a bruise spreading across his forehead, his left arm hanging limply by his side. Benny was laying on his back on a bench, eyes closed as he breathed through clenched teeth. Cas, Ash, and Adam were missing, and Sam snapped his fingers as he went into the comm tent.

“Kev, can you call a Dr. Balthazar?”

Kevin nodded as he turned from his computer to the phone. Sam turned to leave, and Garth swirled around in his chair.

“Sam?”

Sam stopped and turned around, and Garth bit his lip.

“Is … Is everything …?”

Sam let out a sigh.

“No. No, it’s not. But we’re working on it.”

****

When the medic chopper arrived, Sam helped load Dean inside. When the chopper was gone, he turned to Naomi, who was standing beside him, looking out at the darkness of the night.

“Is he going to …”

Naomi lifted her head, locking eyes with Sam.

“He’s stable, which is how we were able to transport him. Things are looking good right now, but he’s far from out of the woods.”
“Is he … Like, what does … I can’t think right now.”

Sam looked down at the soft touch, and Naomi gently patted his arm.

“He took a good hit from the bomb. I don’t have the details on that, so I can’t tell you anything but what I’ve seen. He’s got a broken collarbone and a bad break on his right leg. Ribs are bruised, a couple most likely cracked. He didn’t come back to consciousness, which is a blessing for him, but worrisome for me. Oh, but he did squeeze Anna’s hand when she came in.”

Naomi smiled at that, then nodded her head.

“He had two bullet wounds, one to the chest and one to the belly, but I recovered both of the bullets. He needs surgery, which is why we got him out of here.”
“And he’ll be okay?”

Naomi smiled again.

“I certainly hope so. There’s not a better man on this base than Dean Winchester.”

****

Sam leaned up against the Humvee, hands over his eyes as he just breathed. He could feel the adrenaline rush slipping away, and he was getting a massive headache. He’d helped Dr. Balthazar, a tall, lanky man with a lazy British accent as much as he could, taping up bandages, helping fit Victor’s arm into a sling, helping to wrap up Benny’s broken ribs. Sam sighed, rolling his shoulders, then turned and walked back into the medic tent.

He stopped at the doorway, at the stretcher that was now empty, holding only bloody sheets and discarded instruments. Sam swallowed, trying not to think of how that was Dean’s blood, Dean who had bleeding on the table while Sam stood over him, Dean who was now in a helicopter being transported to a hospital somewhere with his life hanging in the balance.

The door to the other room opened, and Hester and Zeke walked out. They both looked tired, exhausted, even. They didn’t speak to Sam as they walked past him. Naomi and Crowley walked out next, looking as tired as the others, and Crowley followed the direction Hester and Zeke had gone. Naomi walked to Sam and squeezed his shoulder, then followed the others. Sam stepped closer to the door, gently pushing it open, stopping when he heard the noise behind the door.

Meg lifted her head, tears in her eyes and sliding down her cheeks. Sam knelt in front of her, reaching a hand out to gently touch her arm. Meg shook her head, putting her head back on her arms, which were pillowed on her knees, and let out a quiet sob. Sam glanced over and stood up, seeing Abby sitting on a chair with her hands clasped together over her stomach, looking off into the distance.

“Abby?”

She blinked, then slowly brought her head around to look at him. She blinked again, then looked away again, swallowing and blinking a tear down her cheek. Sam looked back at Meg, then bit his lip, walking closer to the bed. Sam felt his blood turn to ice in his veins, as his feet became rooted to the floor and his heart fell to the ground beside them.

“There was nothing we could have done.”

Abby’s voice was quiet and monotone, and she stared at the wall as she spoke.

“He must have been directly in front of the blast. It’s almost hard to tell shrapnel from organs. His heart must have stopped three times, but we got it going again. That last time, though … He’d lost so much blood and the IVs we got in him weren’t doing what they should have. Massive internal bleeding and organ failure, Crowley said. So when his heart stopped again and we tried to restart it …”

Abby shook her head, sniffling as she reached up to wipe away the tears from her cheeks.

“He died at 3:56 this morning.”

Sam reached over, his hand shaking before he pushed it through dusty blonde hair.

“Oh, Adam.”

Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head as a tear dripped from his eye. Abby took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Someone needs to tell the rest of the guys.”

Meg lifted her head, sighing and sniffling, wiping her face.

“I’ll do it.”
“No, it’s … it’s my turn. I’ll do it.”

Meg stood up anyway, walking to the sink to wash her hands and face. Abby waited behind her, washing her own hands when Meg was done.

“Sam?”

Sam glanced over at Meg, who motioned towards the door.

“You coming?”

Sam glanced back at the body on the stretcher and shook his head. He walked to Abby’s chair, pulling it with him as he walked back and sat down beside the bed. Abby and Meg quietly walked out, and Sam sighed, shaking his head again. He pushed a little ways backwards and put his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his hands.

Sam heard footsteps behind him, but he never lifted his head. After a few quiet minutes, Victor’s voice rang out.

“It took everything we had to get them up and loaded into the one working car. We’re all …”

Victor sighed.

“We’ve been beat to hell before, but never like this.”

Victor shook his head, stepping up to the bed.

“Dean would be dead if it wasn’t for him. He saved his life.”

Victor shook his head, reaching over and laying a hand on Adam’s still chest.

“You’re a hero, kid.”
“No one will know.”

Victor glanced at Sam, who shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of Adam’s face. Victor didn’t say anything, but after a second, Sam spoke again, lifting his eyes to Victor.

“He doesn’t have anyone. No one at all. They’ll put him in the ground and no one will know the things he did. The way he laid down his life for Dean. No one will know.”

Sam shook his head, putting his head back in his hands.

“We will.”

Sam glanced behind him to see Abby and Meg walking back in, with the rest of the Wayward Sons behind them. Abby blinked and nodded.

“We’ll know what he did, and as long as we’re alive, he will be, too.”
“But none of us have the power that you do, Sam.”

Sam blinked as Cain’s clear voice spoke from the back of the room.

“Write your story on the Wayward Sons. Tell of the things we’ve done, and of the brother we lost. You have the power to have Adam live forever, if you’ll only do it.”

Sam looked behind him, at the bravest, most courageous men he’d ever known, all beaten and bruised, broken at the moment, but never shattered. The rag-tag team of people no one would ever think could work well together, but who defied the odds and saved the world more times than anyone knew.

And that moment was when Sam knew.

He had his story.

Continue to Part Four