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Topics - Samuel Winchester

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Disposable Heroes / A Peek at the Future
« on: February 17, 2020, 05:53:01 PM »
With winter holding on tightly to Sioux Falls and the relative peace of the supernatural world still clinging on for now, the time had come for a little intervention. Dean and Jo had made a request of Ayden, who had done her research, asked for help, and was pretty sure she had what they wanted. Now all they needed to do was to ask the main participant. They knew Sam might be a little reluctant to even admit that he was struggling still, but despite the closeness in their ages in this timeline, he was still their son. They needed to help him out as best they could, and the only way they could think of was to give him a glimpse of the future he had put into effect.

The problem wasn't so much Sam's happiness. He was happy with Becky and with his place in the family. He was confident he'd made the right decision in staying behind when Hope had returned to the future, but it wasn't that simple. He'd known what his place was in the future, what it was he was supposed to do. Here - in this timeline, in this Sioux Falls, in this world - everything was different. He'd been studying with the Men of Letters, but in a place where the conflict with Hades had been resolved, he wasn't sure where he was supposed to go from here. And then, there was the problem of his younger self - of the Sam that would grow up in a very different world to become a very different person than himself.

But in the end, it always seemed to circle back around to Hope. What had happened when she'd returned to her own time? Was she safe? Was she happy? Sure, she had her brother back, but it wasn't him. Together, they'd helped change the future for the better, but it had left Sam feeling like a boat without a rudder and without the one person in his life who had always helped him keep an even keel - Hope.

The sound of Sam's car pulling up to his parents' house warned them of his impending arrival. Jo was already heading for the door as she called out to Dean.

"He's here!"

"Oh, goody," Dean grumbled sarcastically. "Should I hide and then jump out and shout 'Surprise'?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

He'd been feeling agitated all morning. He didn't really want to have this little talk with the adult version of his son, but he knew that for Sam's peace of mind, it was necessary. Hell, for his own peace of mind, it was necessary. Somehow, they had to make Sam understand that everything happens for a reason - even this.

"Only if you're planning to drop your pants at the same time," Jo countered, letting the grumbling pass her by. She was just as agitated, but she definitely handled it better than her husband. Opening up the door, she leaned on the frame, hugging her cardigan about herself, smiling warmly at Sam. "Hey, little man."

"Drop my pants and shout 'Pudding'?" Dean asked with a smirk, but that joke was likely lost on Jo. That had been another lifetime ago, one he had put to rest a long time ago.

"Geez, Mom," Sam grumbled as he made his way up the walk to the door. "I haven't been a 'little man' in a long time." In fact, these days, he towered over her, nearly as tall as his father.

"You're still my little man," Jo insisted fondly. She smiled at how similar Sam was to Dean, right down to the grumbling. "C'mon in, warm up. Becky's at the bunker until tomorrow, right?" She ignored Dean's private joke, knowing it was probably hilarious in context.

"I'll put the coffee on!" Dean called over, hightailing it to the kitchen. It wasn't that he was being a coward exactly, but he thought maybe mother and son needed a few minutes alone. At least, that was his excuse, and he was sticking to it.

Sam couldn't help but smirk. "Dad being a coward?" he asked his mother quietly. "And yeah, Becky won't be back 'til tomorrow."

"Little bit!" she agreed, closing the door behind her grown son. "I get it, though. He's all wound up. You know what he's like when it comes to talking to people he loves."

"Um, he talks to you all the time," Sam pointed out, shrugging out of his coat as he stepped inside. He was perhaps the one person in all of South Dakota who never complained about the snow or the cold. It beat the hell out of Hades' version of the climate.

"Well, yeah, but that's because I never give him a choice," Jo answered, with absolute honesty. "He makes me talk about my issues, so I do the same back to him. And today, little man, it's your turn."

Sam frowned, not because she'd referred to him as a "little man" again - he had a feeling it was useless scolding her about it. No, it was the reason they'd asked him to come over. There was something they wanted to talk to him about, and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

"Mom, I'm fine. Really. You don't need to worry," he assured her, turning to hang his coat on a hook near the door, like a good son.

"I know you're fine," she told him. "But I also know you're grieving, honey. If anyone knows this feeling you're struggling with, it's me and it's your dad. We just want to help."

There was that frown again as he turned back to face her. There was no point in denying it, though they hadn't lost anyone in some years. The reason for his grief had been the elephant in the room for some time now, and he needed to face it and come to terms with it before it poisoned his relationship with Becky. He knew that, but he wasn't quite sure how to do it. "I know you want to help, and I appreciate that, but unless you can bring Hope back, there's not much you can do."

"I know," she said gently. "We can't bring her back, and this Hope might never be the Hope you remember and love. But we can show you the future you created by coming back here, and by staying. And maybe your dad can help you let go a little. Okay?"

"Show me the future?" he echoed, frowning skeptically. "You mean like when Hades took Dad to the future?" he asked, remembering the story his father had told him umpteen gazillion times. It was all there in Dean's journal, too. Though Hades had hoped to trap Dean there and kill him, his plan had backfired, and Dean had returned more determined to defeat Hades than before.

"No, honey." Jo lead him toward the kitchen as she spoke. "I mean Ayden and Clotho have put their heads together and found a way to make it so that you can witness the future."

Sam furrowed his brows in confusion. "Mom, I don't need to see the future. I know it's better. That's why Hope and I came here - to make it better." Not only for themselves, but for the entire world.

"Don't argue with me," she warned. "You're wallowing, even if you keep saying you're not, and the first step to pulling yourself out of that is to see the positives you've created just by being here. Now sit your butt down and drink coffee with your dad a sec, I need to make sure your sisters aren't throttling each other in their sleep." This was a blatant reversal of what Dean had done just a few minutes earlier, but at least the Winchester men knew Jo wasn't going to abandon them for more than ten minutes.

Disposable Heroes / The Wisdom of Elders
« on: August 15, 2014, 05:58:03 PM »
It had been a long day for Ephraim Hoffman. He'd been woken at four am by a call from his granddaughter, informing him that she and a friend had been arrested for breaking and entering, and asking if he could come and sort it all out, please. When he'd reached the kitchen in the bunker, he'd found his friend and mentor, Henry Winchester, staring at his own phone as though it was about to bite him. After discerning that the friend Becky was interred with was claiming to be Henry's time-traveling great-grandson, Ephraim had then climbed into his Jeep and effectively brow-beaten the sergeant in charge of the police station into releasing the young people.

   Once he'd had them safely delivered to a motel, he'd driven back to the bunker to make sure Henry was coping, collected a random hunter who needed a ride anyway, and driven back to the motel a little over an hour away to pick up Sam. The hunter, a fierce woman named Meg, had agreed to stick with Becky for a couple of hours while the men were away. Having delivered Sam to Henry, Ephraim had left the pair in peace, and gone back to the library to pick up on his reading. He was going to have to drive Sam back when the pair were done, anyway.

   Peace was a bit of a misnomer when it came to Sam and the great-grandfather he'd known in the future, but who'd only just met him in this time period. Their meeting had been anything but peace, though it had ended well enough. It had come as no surprise to Sam that he'd had to prove who he was to Henry, though once Henry believed him, the tension between them eased, and Sam was able to share his story and explain to his great-grandfather why he was there. He told him not only about his own son's death - the story of which had been passed down from Dean to Sam - but also of Dean and Jo and their children, as well as Ayden and Ares. By the time Sam was ready to depart, Henry Winchester not only knew the truth of John's death, but also about those of his own bloodline who still lived and those who would be born in the near future. He was also told of the struggle between the Olympians and his ever-blossoming feelings for Ephraim Hoffman's grand-daughter.

   Given how much there was to tell and be told, it was something of a wonder that, only a bare three hours after Sam had been delivered to Henry, Ephraim heard over the bunker's intercom that they were done. He carefully marked his place in the book he'd been reading and set it aside on his own desk, making his way toward the main entrance hall of the bunker to meet Sam when he found his way back there.

   All things considered, it was a good meeting, but by the time Sam was finished sharing all that needed to be shared, he felt mentally and emotionally drained. It was a good thing he and Becky had gotten a few hours rest or it might have been worse. As it was, when he finally emerged from the bunker, he looked more than a little weary, the events of the last few days taking its toll.

   Ephraim chuckled on seeing him, knowing only too well what a few hours of intensive Henry Winchester could be like. "You look as though you could do with a good, stiff drink," he commented to the younger man mildly. "Everything reconciled here?"

   "If that's an offer, I'll take you up on it," Sam remarked. One drink wouldn't hurt, and he had to admit he could use something strong to help calm his jangled nerves before he was reunited with Becky. Besides, he had a feeling he and Ephraim had a lot to talk about. "For now," he said in reply to the man's question. He had no doubt he hadn't seen the last of Henry Winchester, but there wasn't much more they needed to discuss, for now.

   It didn't take much to convince Ephraim to open the liquor cabinet, selecting a particularly fine whiskey and pouring a generous measure into a glass for Sam. "How is the old man?" he asked quietly, handing the glass over. It was obvious that he was fond of Henry Winchester, but equally obvious that he knew the man's moods and tempers better than most.

   Sam took the glass gratefully, pausing a moment to answer the other man's question, with a thoughtful frown on his face. "He took it pretty well. Better than I thought he would," Sam replied, mostly in regards to John's death. He sniffed at the whiskey a moment, though he was well familiar with the stuff. His father and Bobby seemed to have a fondness for Hunter's Helper, as they called it, though neither drank nearly as much as they might if it weren't for Nimue and Ellen. Or was she Jo now? Sam wasn't too sure. It was more than a little confusing. "Cheers," he said, lifting the glass in salute to the other man before tossing it back. He winced as the amber liquid burned its way past his throat, but to his credit, he swallowed without coughing even once.

   "He's always been a difficult one to predict," Ephraim agreed with a nod. "Some simple things can take a age to explain to him, other times he picks up the most complex problem within seconds. He's a brilliant man. A pain in the ass, but a brilliant man." He chuckled faintly shaking his head. "And how are you, son?"

   "I'm fine," Sam replied, a little too quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked fingering the glass in his hand. One more and he'd been feeling it. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, at this point. "I haven't had a chance to thank you properly, but I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

   Ephraim wasn't about to give him a second drink, however. He was, after all, going to be delivering this young man back to his own granddaughter. "No need to thank me," he chuckled amicably. "Give us a few days, and you'll exist in the system, so any other difficulty like that will be easier to overcome. But for now, getting you back to Rebecca before she and that hunter come to blows would be a good idea."

   "What name?" Sam asked, wondering if they were going to reinvent him and give him a new name or somehow manage to let him keep the one he'd been born with. He was a Winchester and named for a man who had died a hero, at least as far as this world was concerned, and he didn't really want to give it up, despite sharing that name with the baby his mother was carrying. What else they shared besides that, he wasn't too sure. "Do you believe in souls?" he asked, somewhat out of the blue.

   "Samuel Winchester, of course," Ephraim assured him, taking the glass back and closing the liquor cabinet with a snap. "Your father has somehow been reinserted into the world; I doubt setting you up as a cousin of the family with the same name will be too difficult." He paused as a fresh question came out of seeming nowhere, frowning curiously. "It all rather depends on your definition of a soul," the old man said thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

   "Souls are the most precious commodity in all the known universe," Sam remarked. "My father told me that once," he explained. Not the Dean of this time, but of sometime in the future. "I haven't even been born yet in this world. How do you think that's going to work? Two bodies, but only one soul," he mused. It was the first time he'd voiced such thoughts aloud, though he wasn't sure why he was doing so to a man who was practically a stranger. Maybe because he was a Man of Letters and knew things Sam could only dream about.

   "Ah, but if a soul is everything that makes you the person you are, then it is not a case of two bodies and one soul," Ephraim pointed out thoughtfully. "The child who will be born will not be an exact copy of you, with all your thoughts, your skills, your wishes, your feelings. He will be himself, and thus, he will have a soul of his own. Do you not agree?"

   "I don't know. I mean, I was him once, though he'll be different now that I'm here, now that I've changed things," Sam countered. He hadn't been sure whether Ephraim truly knew who he was or where he'd been from, but Henry Winchester had informed him otherwise. He would have liked another shot of Hunter's Helper, but didn't dare ask, knowing better than to push his luck.

   "Ah, but you were never him, Sam," Ephraim said gently. "You were not born to a world in which an older version of yourself lived and had settled. Therefore, you and he may share a mother and father, and a name, but you do not share a soul. Your soul is already alive, already in use here, in this time and place. His soul must therefore be unique and his own."

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