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Sam Winchester was happy. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe and content.
Sam was sitting in a lounge chair in his living room, watching a football game and drinking a beer. There was nothing new about the game or the drink, the Seahawks had been his favorite team since the witch hunt in Seattle and, to be honest, he'd been drinking out of the same kind of bottle for about 25 years.
However, everything else was foreign to the youngest Winchester. This house he'd learned to call home, his family living comfortably in it, and the ever-building trust that nothing was coming through that door to tear each one of them limb from limb. The only thing missing was a similar chair next to him, with Dean sitting in it, making comments on the skills of each player and yelling at the referees. Sam hated to admit how happy he was when his brother was no longer in his life, but it was one of the sacrifices he had had to make.
He always felt a bit gloomy thinking about Dean. After all, they hadn't talked in almost 5 years, since Sam had met Jenna and decided he wanted to start a life with her. Dean, after some convincing and a table being broken in the process, agreed. He wanted Sam to have this life, but it took him a while to come to terms with it. However, it should be mentioned that Dean didn't ignore his brother out of jealousy and disappointment. He just, being the selfless man he is, didn't want to get in the way. "I can't ruin your apple pie life this time, Sammy.." is how he put it.
Sure, Sam had tried to call him for the first few months, let him know how things were going, but after several voicemails, Sam figured Dean was satisfied dealing with his own life. He was still a hunter, and hadn't settled down out of fear. Although, if he wasn't the greatest hunter that ever lived before Sam left, the eldest Winchester certainly was now. Dean wouldn't dare say it out loud, but he enjoyed being talked about amongst the younger hunters, even being compared to Bobby Singer a few times. He knew that his name struck fear into the hearts of almost every monster in the country, who had grown up to associate him with the thing hiding in their closets and under their beds. And if anyone ever brought that point up to him, he'd shrug and smirk.
"Daddy, tell Isaac to give me back my laptop!"
Sam snapped out of his reverie and looked down at his two kids. Bailey, the oldest at 4 years old, looked back at him with the same dark green puppy dog eyes that he had. Her eyebrows were raised and she pointed her small hand at the baby boy laying on his stomach in front of them...a corner of her Barbie "laptop" in his mouth.
"Okay, Isaac, let me see that," he said as he stood and picked up the pink toy in one hand and the newly 6 month old in the other. The boy squirmed at the loss of the chew toy and sudden change in position, but didn't start crying, which Sam was thankful for.
"I'm going to go wipe this off, 'kay baby?" He asked Bailey. She agreed, looking a little disappointed but ran off to her room to get another toy.
Sam thought it was funny that Bailey liked the laptop so much. She told him she wanted a "commuter" just like his, so he bought her one for her most recent birthday. So far, it was the best toy Bailey had ever gotten, and she played with it whenever she could. Most of the time, when Sam was working on his own real laptop, she would come in and sit on the floor by his chair and start playing games on it, looking up occasionally to make sure she was "doing it right".
Sam walked to the kitchen and greeted his wife.
"Hey"
"Hi," she replied, putting down the plate she was washing and kissing him affectionately on the cheek, "do you want me to take him?"
"Do you mind? He kind of slobbered all over Bailey's computer and I need to wash it off. Plus, it's almost their bedtime so we can start on their baths."
"Sure, but you get to tell Bailey to take a bath. She insisted on not taking one tonight because she took one last night."
"Okay fine," Sam pretended to groan.
He smiled and walked over to the sink to grab a wash cloth. Jenna took Isaac and made her way to the kids' bathroom. As soon as Sam got to work cleaning the edge of the laptop, Bailey came running around the corner, a cowgirl hat on her head and riding a play horse. She reached behind her and pulled out a fake gun.
Pretending to cock it, she cried, "Reach for the sky, buster!"
Sam hid a laugh and put on his best impression of a criminal who had been caught red-handed. He widened his eyes and took his hands off the Barbie laptop, holding them above his head.
"Gosh sheriff, I don't wanna go to jail!" Sam said as he backed away from the tiny cowgirl.
"Don't move! I'm taking you downtown!"
Sam looked at the four-year-old with pride as she carefully "dismounted" her horse, came over to him, and grabbed both of his gigantic hands in her own small ones behind his back. Bailey loved dressing up, but she wasn't as fond of the princesses and rock stars that most little girls wanted to be. No, she wanted to be a cowgirl or a cop, even a lawyer one time (Sam couldn't deny that his heart swelled and he got choked up when she walked in with one of her mother's blazers on and told him she was "going to work"). None of this came as a shock to Sam, though - he knew from the day she was born that Bailey was gonna be his 'mini-me', even if she was his little girl. 'Dean would be proud', he thought absently.
Knowing it was getting late, Sam waited until Bailey was handcuffing his hands together before turning around and quickly scooping his daughter up, blowing raspberries into her little tummy. She squealed as he ran into the bathroom, where Jenna was in the middle of shampooing Isaac's hair.
"No Daddy!" Bailey shouted when she realized Sam's intentions.
"Hey Bailey-bug, why don't you get in with Isaac and you two can rinse each other off?" Sam asked.
"Well...okay," she replied after a moment's hesitation.
He put her down and blocked the door to the bathroom, in case Bailey got any ideas. The little girl didn't seem to resist, though, and she got into the tub with her brother.
After a lot of splashing and once everyone was soaked to the bone, Sam and Jenna got their kids out of the bath. They took turns, Jenna drying one off and Sam dressing the other. Once both were in their pajamas, Sam drained the tub, dried off the floor and himself, and walked into the kids' bedroom. There sat Jenna in the rocking chair, the wide-eyed Isaac in one arm, a book in the other, and Bailey sat on her lap, flipping the pages of the story. Sam smiled at the perfect image of his family.
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Long after the family was asleep, a stranger came creeping into their home. His black coat blended with his skin in the inky night, making him look like a shadow...which he was, of sorts. He soundlessly moved up the stairs, down past Bailey's room, and into little Isaac's. He looked around at the pale blue wallpaper, wooden furniture, and toys neatly stacked on the shelves of bookcases and on top of drawers. The stranger reached the center of the room, where a mahogany crib stood out from the cream carpet. Inside, he could see the infant boy squirming slightly in his sleep, as if he could sense the presence towering above him.
"Don't worry, little one. This will all be over before you wake up," whispered the stranger in a garbled, deep voice.
Isaac fell back into a peaceful sleep, his tiny lips parted ever so slightly and his hands curled around the blue blankets enveloping him. The stranger looked up to see a mobile hanging above the baby crib. With a sinister laugh, he realized what was hanging from it: little fire trucks and hydrants.
"How ironic"