They call me the Anti-Christ

“I've learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances.” --Martha Washington


"Why are you and Daddy not as close as Ben and Alec?" Sammy asked one day as she sat in Samael's living room, coloring in a book. "Brothers are supposed to be best friends."

The question caught him by surprise, and Samael could only look over at the four year old he was babysitting for the afternoon. Sammy was intent on her picture, not even looking up as she asked her question out of the blue, and he took a moment before answering it.

"Your Dad and I are that close," he explained gently. "More, in fact. But..." How to explain that life happens and sometimes it's not what you hope to a child.

"Did you have a big fight?"

"No. I just..." He bit his lip and sat on the floor across from her. "You know how sometimes your brothers do something that make you very mad, but you end up forgiving them for being mean?"

"Yeah."

"But sometimes you are still mad even when they said they were sorry, and you're still mad but you don't act like it?"

"Uh huh."

Samael gave her a small smile. "Your Dad just feels that way. He's still mad at me, even though he knows I'm sorry. And one day we're going to be very close again like we were, just not yet. But that doesn't mean he stopped loving me."

"I'm gonna tell Daddy to stop being mad at you." Sammy put her crayon down and looked at her uncle across the table. "You can't be that bad."

He just looked at her and smiled. "He will stop being mad when he's ready."

"But you need Daddy. You're sad." She got up and walked over, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Ben and Alec fight but they are never sad because they have each other. You need Daddy and then Daddy and you would be sad."

Tears came to Samael's eyes and he hugged his niece back tightly. Sammy then pulled back and gave Samael a kiss on his cheek. "Don't cry."

Wiping his cheek, Samael smiled at the little girl. He knew that he and Dean would eventually get back to being brothers again like they had been. Maybe never that close. It would be different, and at moments like this, Sam remembered that his sacrifice had still been the right choice.

Because this beautiful little girl wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him.

"I'm just happy," Samael told her, ruffling her head. "Let's start cleaning up. Your daddy will be here to pick you up soon."

"Then I will tell him to stop being mad at you."

He sighed and chuckled. "Why don't I tell him that, and you tell him about the llama you got to pet at the zoo today?"

"And how it sneezed on you and got boogers on your shoe!"

"I'm sure he would enjoy hearing about that instead."

3) Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie.
--Jim Davis


"Dean, are you sure this is going to work?"

"Of course I am, Sammy. When have I shown you something that didn't work."

"The time you tried to jump the barbed wire fence and tore your pants."

"The fence was wet and I slipped."

"The time you blew up the potato in the microwave."

"You're the one who wanted mashed potatoes."

"And the time..."

( . . . )

OOC: Goes with this. Michael is herecmestrouble and used with permission

She is the sunlight.
The sun is gone.
- Trading Yesterdays "She is the Sunlight"


Ruby always went on jobs on her own. That wasn't what worried Sam. It was her way of relieving stress sometimes - go off on a small case, beat up a few demons and come back and take a long hot shower or else... well, that was another way they both burned off stress.

Sam sat up in bed reading until he fell asleep, waiting for her. It wasn't like her to take that long on a routine matter. He tried to call her again before bed, but it went to voicemail. If she was working, she wouldn't answer her phone. Maybe she needed to wait until late to hunt whatever she was after.

He was expecting her to come in during the night and wake him up by pressing her cold body against his back and wanting to share his warmth. But when he woke up and her half of the bed was still cold, that was when he started to worry.

It got worse when she didn't answer her cell phone still in the morning. It took him seconds to dress and then without even meeting his son for breakfast like planned, he went straight to the library and grabbed Bobby's journal and headed right for a spell room.

( . . . )

The dangers of having a child had always been present in Sam's mind, long before Ruby had found out she was pregnant. When the reality of Michael coming into the world finally stuck in his head, Sam had done everything he could to make the nursery into a virtual fortress within a fortress. He was not going to let any demon near his son... except his mother, of course.

But Sam knew that there was going to be a danger. That six month birthday was the keystone. He had done so much research into baby development and why six months was so important in the plan that Azazel had once had. He learned that it was around that time in a baby's development that they started to show independent thoughts and actions.

The medics couldn't confirm if Michael was fully human or a half-blood like this father. Mutters of his son being an anti-christ were looked at with angry eyes from his father and harsh words from both parents. Their son was a perfect, innocent child and anyone who had an issue with his existence was given the offer to leave.

So as the day came, Sam worried that someone would slip through. A demon ally who had turned traitor - there were many times he had ended up attacked within his own walls - or worse, a human who wanted to make Michael into a weapon against this peace. He wasn't going to let his child be turned into a pawn in this war.

All of this led to Sam fortifying the nursery on the night before Michael hit that milestone. There was a salt line across the door and Sam sat in the rocking chair as the baby slept, a shotgun in his lap as he read a book. There was a coffee maker in the room, and Sam kept himself up.

( . . . )

Cos all of the stars
Are fading away
Just try not to worry
You'll see them some day
Take what you need
And be on your way
And stop crying your heart out
- Oasis “Stop Crying Your Heart Out”

The nightmares were horrible, and Sam could barely sleep for weeks after it happened. He closed his eyes and all he saw was her on the ceiling, whispering his name before bursting into flames. Sometimes her eyes were sad, and sometimes they were angry and full of blame.

Every time he woke up to find Dean looking over at him, worried eyes not sure what to say to make it better. It was the first time Dean wasn't going to be able to solve a problem of his. Only later would Sam realize that it was the first of many.

But one time, Dean was standing there with a cup of coffee, a small smirk on his face. "Drink this. It'll keep you up for a few hours."

"Thanks." Sam ran his hand through his hair, then took the cup. Dean tilted his head, then motioned towards Sam's wrist.

"You expecting to grow it out long enough to make a little topknot?"

"Huh?" Sam looked at his wrist, then his expression fell. "Oh. No."

Dean noticed the look and sat on the bed opposite from him. "It's Jess', huh?"

Sam nodded, thinking back to a few weeks ago...

( . . . )

I remembered each flash
as time began to blur
Like a startling sign
that fate had finally found me
-Linkin' Park "New Divide"


He had been keeping it a secret. Dean didn't like secrets but Sam knew he couldn't tell Dean. Dean would worry. Dean always worried and this was not a good thing for Dean to worry about. It would bring back bad memories and he would get sad and Sam couldn't make Dean sad. He hated making Dean sad.

But his head was hurting again, so he hid in the bathroom and pretended to take a shower. It was running, but he wasn't in it. Instead he was sitting between the toilet and sink with his head in his hands, trying to get the pain to stop.

And the pictures. He scrunched his eyes shut and there were people there and they were hurting and he didn't know who they were or what was happening. But they hurt and it made him hurt to the point where he wants to stab out his eyeballs so he didn't have to see anymore.

First they were in his dreams. He remembered how they had started like that before and now it was again. He curled up into Dean on those nights. Dean always made the bad things go away. But these weren't like his bad dreams Pain. Hurt. Fire. Smoke. DEAN! They were real and he knew it somewhere which made them hurt more.

Then they started to happen when he was awake. So far they happened when Dean and Alec were gone. He didn't know what to do, and curled up on Dean's bed and clung to his pillow... if he could make it. And sometimes he knew what the dreams were and he could sneak away and try to help. Dean and Alec would be mad if they knew he was on his own helping people. But if he helped them the pain went away.

These pictures though came when Dean was just finishing his shower. Sam couldn't get into the room fast enough that the steam and the smell of Dean's body wash was still in the air. The sound of the water hid his whimpers as he rocked back and forth, trying not to see the pictures.

A little girl. A demon was in her. She was killing people. There was a preacher. He was a good man but she slit his throat and then started to use his blood like finger paints. Pretty pictures of things he remembered from the books in Bobby's place that smelt like magic and leather. She then smiled and the pictures went away.

He had lost track of how long he was in the bathroom, curled up. He wanted them to go away. They hurt and reminded him of how he had become a demon and it wasn't fair and he was dead and they should be gone and not here where it will make Dean sad and angry and...

Another stab of pain had Sam curled up tighter, making pitiful whimpering noises and just wanting it to stop. To go away. To be a normal boy again and not a demon or a freak. He wanted to be Sammy again. Not this.

It hurt too much.

ooc: Based off this picture prompt. From John's POV.

John Winchester was learning rather quickly that his youngest son had a wild imagination. Also, that leaving him alone with Bobby was sometimes not such a good idea after all.

Sam was six now, sitting at the kitchen table when John got back from a hunt. Bobby was out working in the yard, and John would bet that Dean was following behind him, trying to learn and help with the cars. The mechanic blood ran strong in Dean, and he always wanted to know how things worked.

But not Sam. Sam was happy with the books and his gummi bears on the table. He had learned how to read by the time he was four, and some of the words that Sam knew now - but couldn't spell - made John feel like he had no education at all.

So seeing one of Bobby's research books open in front of Sam wasn't that big of a shock. However, it was turned to an especially graphic page with a human decapitating a vampire. "What you reading, Sammy?" John asked, putting his bag down on the counter.

"Uncle Bobby said it was a horror picture book. I can't read it because it's in pig latin, but the pictures are really gross." Sam looked up at his father and smiled, his fingers playing with the gummi bears. There was also a half eaten strawberry Jell-O cup beside his elbow.

"Well, I'll have to talk to Uncle Bobby about letting you read these things. It'll give you nightmares..." John went to pick up the book, then stopped as he saw exactly what Sam was doing with his gummi bears. "... Sam?"

"Yeah Dad?"

"Why don't you go out and play with Bobby's dog for awhile... get some fresh air."

"But orange bear still needs to set the vampire bear's head on fire." He pointed to the picture, then grabbed the box of matches. "I'm almost ready!"

John closed his eyes, then took the matches. "I don't think Bobby would appreciate you setting the kitchen on fire, Sam."

"But Daaaaaad..."

"Outside now, Sammy."

Sam just pouted, pushing his chair back and getting up. "You never let me have any fun," he stated, then grabbed Cheney by the collar and led the dog outside. John watched him go, then sat down at the table and shook his head.

He wasn't sure if he should be amused by this, or sad in knowing that eventually, Sam would be doing the same thing he was having his bears act out. Right now, he just wanted Sam to be a real kid and run around outside with the dog and play.

The monsters would come soon enough.

Yes my life is better left to chance.
I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance
-Garth Brooks "The Dance"

Sam took a deep breath, shifting in his sleep. His mind noticed that something was wrong and his eyes opened a bit to look around.

He was in his bedroom, a white sheet thrown over him to give him a bit of modesty with all the windows open in the summer heat in New Orleans. Next to him, the pillow was still dented from the head that had laid there for half the night. A moment of panic hit him as he started to look around the room.

"Don't you be worrying 'bout me, Sammy boy. I'm just watching da sun rise." Desiree smiled from her spot on the balcony in his bedroom.

He slid out of bed, wrapping the sheet around his waist as he walked into the doorway. She was sitting on the chaise, her knees up against her chest as she stared off at the east. "Tina had good mojo findin' dis place with da baby on da way. Always liked comin' here."

Sam smiled from his spot. "I like having you here."

"Johnny be likin' me here too." Desiree looked up at Sam, matching his smile. "Dat boy turning more and more inta his daddy each day."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes I look at him and all I see is Dean."

"He'll do his daddy proud. I can see it."

Sam moved closer, moving to sit behind her on the chaise, arms slipping around Desiree's waist as they leaned back together. "You know, he's going to need a mother too at some point," he said into her ear softly.

Desiree was quiet a moment, then turned around in Sam's arms to look up at him. "Sammy boy, what you asking me?"

He bit his lip a moment, then looked down at her as he ran a hand along her cheek. "You pointed out to me a few months ago about how much time we wasted dancing around each other. I don't want to waste any more time."

"Sammy?"

"Desiree... I want you to be a part of my life. Forever."

She smiled and tilted her head up to kiss Sam's lips. "Thought you'd never ask."

Sam smiled, then settled back against the chaise and pulled Desiree down to lay on top of him as they kept kissing in the first rays of the rising sun. He was happier now than he had been in a long time, and knew that it could only get better.

He may still hurt from the pain that he had gone through to get to this point - and while he would love to have his brother back - he wouldn't trade the uncertainty of the hunter's life he had for what he had now. A father, in the arms of the woman he loved... life couldn't get better.

Down the road, not across the street...

Ever since Dean had tried to help him up from that table and he had passed out, Sam saw the world in moments of nauseous green and black moments. He knew he was in the backseat of the Impala, his arms bound up and... handing off the passenger seat? Why... oh yeah, above the heart keeps from bleeding out. Dad taught him that when he was six and cut his hand on the hunting knife.

Hold it up, Sammy. Keep pressure on it Dean. We're almost to the hospital.

Hospital. Adam's mom was a nurse. Adam... his brother. Half Brother. Dead. Why did his family always die on him?

He was Dean's little brother. Sam had always wanted a little brother of his own, someone to look up to him and teach and protect like Dean always did for him. And there had been one all along. Sam had done the math. He was eight when Adam was born. Eight. Just learning about the hunting world and once a year while Dean and Sam sat alone in motel rooms worried on if he would ever come back.

Sam hated knowing that Dad held this kid above him and Dean. Why did Adam get to be free of this life, but he and Dean had to fight in it? Why did he want Adam to get the white picket fence when it was all Sam wanted.

( . . . )

“Mr. Vaughn, you're young and you're eager, and I understand that. But one thing you're not, and this is something only time can provide, really, is wise.” -Jack Bristow, Alias


It was a Tuesday night. Sam remembered it well, like he did most days of his near 300 years of life now. He had finished a meeting with one of the specialist teams and was ready to eat a cold dinner - he had missed it being warm by 2 hours now - and check on his son while Ruby went out on a "thing" she had to do.

He noticed that there was a growing pile of college pamphlets on the counter, and he flipped through them absently as he realized that Michael was actually old enough to start thinking about things like college and a future. There were times Sam still wished his boy, his miracle baby boy, was still just that - his baby.

But he knew that time went on and his son was becoming an adult before his eyes. It was a blink in his life now, but Michael was turning 17 soon... Sam chuckled as he remembered himself at 17. Interesting times.

There were a lot of pamphlets here... and envelopes that weren't open. Confusion crossed his face and finally Sam just gathered them up and headed back to the room with the loud music playing. This wasn't something Ruby would really know how to talk to Michael about - when she had been alive, college wasn't really an option - so it was going to be a father & son talk.

( . . . )