Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likely_evil) wrote2009-05-13 10:30 am
likely_evil) wrote2009-05-13 10:30 am
Entry tags:
Father and Son Outting
When word had come along that there was a werewolf terrorizing local folks in a small Nebraskan town, Sam realized he had still yet to teach Michael about hunting werewolves. Michael had wanted his training to come from his father, and Sam actually enjoyed the outings.
Now that Michael was older, it was a bit harder to find things in which there both connected. It wasn't like how Sam had been with his own father, it was just that Michael was making his own path in the world, and Sam had chosen to take a step back and let his son make the choice on inviting his father into certain parts of his life.
Sam hoped it was the right choice. Fatherhood didn't come with an instruction manual, after all.
He just treated Michael how he had wanted to be treated growing up. It was the best option, and really the only thing he could think of as being the fairest way to do it.
So when the werewolf case came across his desk, Sam went up to their suite level and knocked on Michael's door, offering him a chance to do a bit of training. Michael had jumped at it, so they made plans to head out that night.
As Sam was packing, his eyes fell on the weapons safe. He remembered Dean and him talking about passing down the guns, and Sam remembered that he still had a box of silver bullets for them. It was probably the best time to do this and have it mean something more than just a gift.
He packed the guns and the rounds in his bag, then packed it all into the car to go.
Nebraska wasn't that far away, but it would involve them having to get a place to stay and setting up a post. Sam found it amusing that 200 years later, the crappy motels still existed with their bad designs, ugly wallpaper, and questionable sheets.
But it was familiar, and unless Michael had an objection, it was where they would end up staying while tracking this werewolf.
Now that Michael was older, it was a bit harder to find things in which there both connected. It wasn't like how Sam had been with his own father, it was just that Michael was making his own path in the world, and Sam had chosen to take a step back and let his son make the choice on inviting his father into certain parts of his life.
Sam hoped it was the right choice. Fatherhood didn't come with an instruction manual, after all.
He just treated Michael how he had wanted to be treated growing up. It was the best option, and really the only thing he could think of as being the fairest way to do it.
So when the werewolf case came across his desk, Sam went up to their suite level and knocked on Michael's door, offering him a chance to do a bit of training. Michael had jumped at it, so they made plans to head out that night.
As Sam was packing, his eyes fell on the weapons safe. He remembered Dean and him talking about passing down the guns, and Sam remembered that he still had a box of silver bullets for them. It was probably the best time to do this and have it mean something more than just a gift.
He packed the guns and the rounds in his bag, then packed it all into the car to go.
Nebraska wasn't that far away, but it would involve them having to get a place to stay and setting up a post. Sam found it amusing that 200 years later, the crappy motels still existed with their bad designs, ugly wallpaper, and questionable sheets.
But it was familiar, and unless Michael had an objection, it was where they would end up staying while tracking this werewolf.
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Sam got back up and went to his bag, pulling out the wrapped cloth that had the guns in it, as well as the bullets.
"If we're hunting werewolves, there is only one thing that can stop them: silver bullet to the heart."
He tossed the box of bullets to Michael, then sat on the edge of the mattress beside him, the bundle in his lap.
"You've become a good hunter, son. I'm proud of you and what you've done these last few years, and I know you're going to get even better as time goes on. The one thing a hunter relies on beyond his head, though, is a good weapon on his hip."
He held the bundle out to his son. "These belonged to your uncle Dean... and I want you to have them now. They're good pistols, and I know you'll take good care of them, and they'll take care of you."
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His voice trailed off as he didn't know how to explain what he was feeling right then. Because he really didn't know what he was feeling, and that in turn, made it hard to explain.
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"You've earned them, and I can't think of any better way to show you than give you these."
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Sam got up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Why don't you keep looking up similarities and plot where we might want to look around for clues and stake out. I'm going to take a quick shower, and then we'll go to the morgue."
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Depending on where Michael searched, he might come across an article about a 7 year old boy who was attacked by a wild dog on the ranch along the trails that the rest of the victims were attacked on. It would be the first incident that could be related to this type of "wolf" attack. And the only survivor.
20 minutes later Sam came back out, drying his hair. "Find anything?"
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"Was it before or after the attacks started?"
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He looked at Michael to see if he would make the same connection he was.
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He sighed a moment, sitting on the bed next to him. He was quiet, lost in thought about what happens to people when they find out they are a monster like that. How it breaks them inside. How it broke her.
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Because even if the kid was becoming something else, wolves were pack animals. He wouldn't turn on his pack like that, not without good reason.
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Sam was still preoccupied. He was there in the room with Michael, listening to every word, but part of him was somewhere else - back in time staring at a pair of eyes brimmed with tears, begging him.
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"Did I ever tell you why we named our werewolf recovery and rehabilitation program MADISON?" He wasn't sure if he had, or maybe Ruby had, or someone who knew the jist of the reason might have told him it through the years.
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Sam took a deep breath.
"I couldn't save her. And we didn't have ways then to help educate and rehabilitate werewolves like we do now. So I named the program after her so my memories of her would help others."
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He looked at Michael. "Sometimes it's not doing it because it's your job, but doing it because you care about that person and you're doing what's best."
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It was a place to start.
He wouldn't want Michael to have to do things he had done. He had helped kill too many people. People he cared about. 300 years showed him a lot of death, and he hoped his son would not have to go through that.
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