The Sam Winchester School of Hunting

Demon Heart

Jesse and Jacob pretty much unequivocally agreed that Sam was the closest they had to a father, and would viciously, viciously fight anyone who even looked at Sam wrong.

And they had done so, multiple times.

So when Sam called off their training one weekend with no explanation despite being in Lebanon, Jacob and Claire knew something was wrong, and Jake convinced Jesse to teleport them into the bunker. It took all of ten seconds for Claire to reach out for Jesse to turn him away, because she knew Sam would never want the youngest of their group to see him like this -

- But it took all of five seconds for Jesse to bolt over to Sam’s side.

The library where they landed was a mess, broken furniture and charred patches all over. Sam was on the ground, red-eyed and ashen-skinned in rumpled clothing, nursing a glass of liquor and staring at files spread out all around him.


Sam looked up sharply, knocking his glass aside, hissing as the alcohol splashed over a still-healing cut, and started to scramble to his feet. “Jesse?! Jacob, Claire - what are you doing here?”

Jacob looked around the room warily. “We came to see if you were alright. That was clearly a good idea.”

Sam sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t be here. Go home.”

"Not until you tell us what happened," Jesse replied defiantly, looking up with dark, wide eyes.

Claire’s pretty sure he pulled out those big puppy eyes just for Sam, because it made the man fold like a pack of cards.

"Dean…" Sam’s face creased in pain as he forced the words out. "Dean’s a demon."

Sam looked like he was going to vomit, and Claire frowned. “I thought you guys had anti-possession tattoos?”

Sam laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Not possessed by one. He became one.”

"… Dude, you should have totally let me kill him by now."

Jacob!” Claire hissed furiously, and the teen ducked his head, mollified. Claire scowls and gestures at him “Go find the kitchen and make breakfast. Jesse, help me get Sam to the Infirmary.”

Jesse nodded, grabbing Sam’s wrist as Sam sputtered. “What - no, you should be going home, it’s not safe here -“

"The bunker’s the safest place in the continental United States," Claire replied smoothly and Jesse reminded them all that Jacob wasn't always the only one with super strength, "If we’re not safe here, we’re certainly not going to be safe out there."

Jesse continued to drag Sam towards the bunker’s infirmary, and Sam was hit with a flash of memory of him and Dean helping patch John after a particularly brutal hunt and he was suddenly stone-cold sober. Drowning himself in alcohol and grief and obsessiveness was fine for himself, but not with kids around, never with kids around.

He would never let himself make his father’s mistakes.

He shifted his hand in Jesse’s grip so that he was actually holding his hand and walking beside him instead of being dragged along. Jesse hovered as Claire ushered him into a chair and resolutely ignored his protests that he could patch himself up.

"You know it’s not your job to take care of me, right?"

Claire put her hands on her hips and stared at him levelly, reminding Sam of Jess and Missouri. “If it was any of us - if we were hurting like this, you wouldn’t leave us on our own. So we’re not going to leave you alone.”

"Yeah, but I’m the adult -"

"Jake, Claire, and I put together out-age you," Jesse piped up, and Sam really needed to learn to defend himself against the kid’s face.

He leaned back as Claire collected medical supplies and let Jesse look at a cut on his arm.

"I think I can heal that," Jesse decided, "I learned some spells from a white witch in Paris."

Sam had to wonder when Jesse was in Paris, and then Jesse was swiping his fingers over Sam’s cut and muttering in French, leaving behind a pink scar. The teen’s lips twisted. “It’ll scar, though.”

Sam tousled Jesse’s hair and smiled. “It’s fine, Jesse. Thank you.”

Jesse beamed, and Sam decided he would probably actually never be able to defend himself against that face, and neither would anyone else.

"Claire, grab the medical tape and the burn dressing, please."

Jesse perked up again, and Sam figured he knew a spell for that, too. Claire frowned slightly as she brings Sam the supplies. “How bad are your ribs?”

Bruised to Hell and back and probably cracked in more than one place, but Sam just smiled reassuringly and replied, “Nothing major, I’ll tape them up after I take a shower.”

Down in the kitchen, Jacob shifted a pan on the stove with one hand and held his phone to his ear with the other. “Ben, how good are you with computers?”

"… Nnnrgh, good morning to you, too, Jake."

Jacob snorted. “Rough night?”

"Brunet. Surprisingly bendy."

Jacob scoffed. “Claire’s going to smack you, dude.”

"Which is more action than you’ll see, let’s be honest."

"See, now I’m going to smack you, Braeden.”

"In your dreams, Fox-boy. Alright, what do you need me for at this ungodly hour?"

"I need to get into Sam’s laptop."

"… Would you like me to get you into Fort Knox while I’m at it?"

"Don’t sass - oh, hang on." Jacob jammed the phone between his ear and shoulder and slid the pancake in his skillet onto a plate and reached for the bowl of batter.

"What are you even doing?"

"Making pancakes. Your not-dad went batshit and turned into a demon, by the way."

"… The fuck haven’t you killed him yet?

"I ask myself this every day," Jacob replied, moving away from the stove to Sam’s laptop, "But have you seen Sam’s disappointed face? That’s, like, a weapon of mass destruction right there. Anyway, what do I do about his laptop?"

"Ughghgh… Try this…"

Fifteen minutes and two more pancakes later, Jacob was flipping through Sam’s browser history. “Mark of Cain, Cain and Abel, something in Hebrew, something in what I’m pretty sure is Aramaic, Cain and Abel, Book of Enoch, Septuagint versus Vulgate translations of the Bible, Cain, something else in a language I don’t know…”

"Where’s Sam, anyway?"

"Taking a shower and getting harassed by Claire in the Infirmary."

"I’m gonna go brush my teeth and shower, tell Jesse to pick me up in fifteen minutes. You’re going to need all the help you can get if you want Sam to let you in anything involving Dean."

When Sam returned to the library, freshly showered, shaved, and feeling more human than he had since Dean - well, since he had since a few days ago, it was to Jesse setting the place to rights with his telekinesis while Claire flipped through his notes and files, and Ben and Jacob huddled over his laptop as Jacob repeatedly slapped Ben’s hand away from a stack of pancakes.

"… No. Absolutely not," Sam said immediately.

"Too late," Ben replied, leaning back and finally stealing a pancake, "Claire, I’m stealing your boyfriend so he can cook for me forever."

Claire promptly reached out to flick Ben’s ear, and turned to Sam. “Don’t you wish, Ben. Sam, if the Mark of Cain is a demonic influence, shouldn’t Jesse be able to control it? He might be able to redirect its energy.”

Sam rubbed his face and bit back a groan. Teenagers.

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