They call me the Anti-Christ

Olivia was almost seven months old when the first Mother's Day came to the Winchester home in Seattle. Sam wanted to make it special, so he slipped out of bed when Olivia started to make noises over the baby monitor. "I'll take care of it," he told Ruby as he tucked his wife back in a bit. "You sleep in."

Picking his daughter up from her room, Sam made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he buckled her into the high chair and poured some cheerios on the table along with her bottle. Their daughter was already smart enough to hold the bottle on her own, so he knew he could leave her there for a few minutes.

Alec had done Sam a small favor and saved his uncle the time to make breakfast for Ruby. Waiting on the kitchen counter was a bouquet of flowers fresh from the growers in the next sector, and then in the oven still warm was an omelet and of course, piles of hash browns taters. He put them on a tray and carried it upstairs along with the bottle of ketchup and a glass of orange juice. He left it on the floor, then ran back downstairs to retrieve his daughter and the flowers.

He snuck back into the room and slid the card off his dresser into his hands as well, then rearranged the pillows to put Olivia, the vase, and the card on the bed. Olivia's little hands instantly went to pull on a flower, giggling as Sam grabbed the camera and knelt on the foot of the bed, ready to take a picture when Ruby woke up.

The giggling didn't take long to wake her mother up, and Ruby looked up at her daughter and smiled. "I don't think your daddy expects you to rip these apart," she told Olivia, trying to grab the flowers. Olivia held onto it through, not wanting to let go and before Sam could get up to stop it, the baby kicked the vase and it fell over and drenched Ruby and the bed.

"Sam..." Ruby looked down at him, glaring at him. Olivia had all the flowers now and was laughing and waving them in the air. He couldn't help it, and Sam just smiled and took a picture of it all.

"Happy Mother's Day," he told his wife. "I'll go get you a towel now."

"Thank you, dear."

... and as the credits roll, it was deemed that there was a need for joy. And Sam looketh over the internet for the fluffiest words he could find and said unto his journal followers "Choose thy words and thy muses, and there shall be fluff."

Choose a word and what muse you want paired with Sam, and I will write you a fic. If you give me multiples, I will write everyone one first, and then go and do the extras afterward as EVERYONE is getting some kind of fluff this weekend.

1. Cloud
2. Bunny
3. Puppy
4. Kitty
5. Lollipop
6. Lullaby
7. Cotton Candy
8. Dandelions
9. Dancing
10. Snuggie
11. Cupcakes
12. Llama
13. Baby
14. Pom-Poms
15. Fireplace
16. Belly Rub
17. Teddy Bear
18. Whipped Creme
19. Towel
20. ... fuzzy love cuffs (Dean made him add it...)

ooc: posting old logs. co-written with lieu_murphy's mun

Of the few things Sam actually did well - besides making coffee - was building a good fire in the fireplace. He actually enjoyed doing it, going out to the wood supply in the afternoon and refilling the inside supply, then kneeling in front of the fireplace and cleaning it out and prepping for the next one. Once he got it going, he sat back on the floor and smiled to himself, feeling the warmth start to spread through the cabin so that it would warm everyone in the pack when they got home from their jobs.

He was curled up on the floor reading while Anna was working on her homework when the first car drove up in the driveway. He lifted his head, still learning the sounds of the engines but he was pretty sure it was Heather coming home. "Keep working on that," he told Anna as he got up. "I'll be right back."

Heather was completely excited to be home. Work hadn't been hard, but it had been pretty boring. The tourist season was over and there wasn't much business these days. She usually got home earlier but her boss wanted inventory done and now she was just happy to be home. She grabbed the Chinese take out she'd picked up before coming home and jumped out of her truck.

Sam was at the door, holding it open with a big smile on his face. "And she delivers eggrolls too. You spoil me."

( . . . )

ooc: follows after this

He was still in the room. Every time he passed out, he woke up alone in the room. Somewhere along the way Dean or Cas had taken pity on him and untied him from the bed, changed the sheets and put new clothes for him to change into. New food and water in the fridge.

Motions to show Sam they cared, but no one answered when he screamed for them to talk to him.

No on that was real anyway.

Part of him knew they were hallucinations. A part of him. But he was alone and sometimes he felt he deserved the torture.

And that was why he knew she came.

ooc: takes place after this

He waited until the next morning to call his son. Ruby was settled in a warm bubble bath and after he had sat there for awhile, he promised her he would be just in the living room as he went to feed Buster and then pick up the phone.

How was Sam going to explain to Michael that his mother didn't remember him? It was one of the fears he was certain his son had, and now it had come true. But Sam had to be the optimist and could only hope that once she saw her baby boy in flesh and blood in front of her, something would spark and fill in those holes Hell had left in her.

It wasn't too late in Switzerland, so he dialed his son's cell phone and hoped he wasn't interrupting anything important between him and Tara.