They call me the Anti-Christ

Sam could feel the pain in the atmosphere when he came back to the penthouse. He had left Ruby and Michael to talk, knowing that he couldn't interfere or try to influence either of them. Ruby needed to find the memories on her own because Michael needed her to, not because Sam wanted her too.

But as he walked back into the penthouse and saw his son standing at the office window looking out at the city, a part of his heart broke. Michael was standing exactly how Sam stood when he was faced with horrible thoughts and unable to process them - forehead pressed to the always cool glass, staring at the dots of people moving and not trying to let the thoughts in his head crash over him.

Taking a deep breath, he moved silently behind his son and just let his arms come down on Michael's shoulders, and them gently pulled him back against his chest. They both stared out the window together, not speaking. The only thing that shifted was Michael's hand which eventually reached up to hold his father's.

"It will eventually be alright, son," he said softly after awhile, resting his chin on the top of Michael's head. "The most important thing is that she's back, and trying to remember. We have all the time in the world to give her, so don't let this break you too."

( . . . )

“A good friend is a connection to life, a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.” --Lois Wyse

Sam was aware that he looked pathetic. His face was covered with fading bruises and his arm was in a sling against his chest. There was a beer on the nightstand next to a bowl of pretzels that he occasionally reached over for a handful of one, or a sip of the other. He was on top of the blankets, leaning against a few pillows in flannel pants and a wife-beater while he watched some comedy series on television. He hadn't shaved since he had woken up in the medical ward, and had about two weeks worth of beard growing on his normally smooth face.

Ruby had been gone for three months now, and if she knew how bad Sam had let himself get, she would kick his already broken ass around to make sure he learned some kind of lesson. He was finally coming out of his blood withdrawal and was glad that Michael was with Tara out in Switzerland so he didn't have to see him during that time.

During those bad days, though, Sam found a friend in his charge for the last few weeks. Any time Sam's breathing changed and he felt pain, suddenly there was a large dog up on the bed to check on him, pressing a cold nose against Sam's face or neck to let him know that he wasn't alone. At first, the contact was strange and Sam tried to push the dog away, but Buster kept at it and finally Sam could feel the comfort that the dog was trying to give him and took it.

Eventually, Sam got comfortable with letting Buster sleep on the edge of the bed. Soon he was letting the dog further up onto the bed where now he was sleeping with his head and one leg over Sam's legs, watching and waiting for Sam to drop a pretzel that he could help clean up.

( . . . )

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.

( . . . )

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.

His name was Michael John Winchester, and he was a miracle child. The son of an Immortal and a demon, blessed by angels to have this gift for their work done over two centuries.

There were prophecies written for this child. Expectations with the hopes and dreams of an organization would rest on his shoulders as he grew up to stand in the 6'4" shadow that his father cast.

Demons were going to hunt him because of this. To get at Sam and Ruby and hit them where it hurt most. Try to destroy this family that Sam had wanted for centuries now.

Today, however - Sam wasn't thinking about that. The future didn't exist beyond the dreams of a father as he stared down into the bassinet that his infant son was sleeping in. Ruby was still recovering as she slept in their bedroom, and Sam just stood there.

( . . . )

ooc: follows this

Sam left the chapel and headed back down to the medical ward where he knew Ruby and Michael were waiting. Michael because he wasn't going to be leaving the ward for another day or two, and Ruby because she was his mother and that was what mother's did.

Ruby was going to get a laugh out of this - part of Sam was still laughing at the idea of his brother being bored in heaven - and perhaps it would lead to Sam being able to finally talk to his son about Dean.

Something that had been painful to do ever since Dean had died.

He watched them for a moment through the window of the door, a swelling of pride in his chest. His family - his life - and Dean was proud of him. 200 years of self doubt started to bleed away and he felt years younger as he finally opened the door and walked back into the room.

"I'm not going to ask again, where is my son?"

Sam pressed the demon against the wall, one hand on the throat of the human as he held the guy against the wall a few inches off the ground. Gone was the business suit and tie, and founder of the Winchester Initiative. Now in a pair of dirty jeans, a flannel shirt under a faded leather jacket and military boots, Sam Winchester was a hunter, a weapon, and one pissed off father.

The demon against the wall laughed, blood dribbling out of his mouth as he laughed. "You really think I'm going to talk, Winchester? You don't scare me..."

"I don't, do I?" Sam tilted his head just a bit, lifting his free hand. Pointing his index and middle finger, the others curled, he focused his powers until the tips of them started to glow yellow. His eyes started to glow to match and he just smirked. "How about now?"

( . . . )