Lay Your Weary Head Pt. 28
Saturday mornings had quietly become Sam's favorite.
Coffee on the porch.
Miracle chasing squirrels through the backyard.
Felicity curled into the porch swing with a stack of student essays balanced on her lap.
Peace.
Real peace.
The kind Sam had spent decades believing wasn't meant for people like him.
He had just begun trimming the smaller plants when his phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
He frowned.
"I should probably get that"
Felicity looked up from her grading.
"Do you think it's a hunter?"
"I'd bet on it"
He answered, "Sam Winchester"
A young voice answered immediately, relieved.
"N-Name's Caleb" The voice stammered, "I'm sorry to bother you. Jody Mills gave me your number"
Sam's expression softened, "It's okay, Caleb... What've you got?"
For the next several minutes Sam listened as the young hunter stumbled through the details; livestock disappearing, old symbols carved into trees, strange lights, one injured hunter and lots of panic.
When the call ended, Sam remained standing on the porch, thinking.
Felicity watched him carefully, "You don't have your 'I'm leaving' face"
He smiled, "I don't"
"So?"
"They need help", her smile faded slightly, knowing where this is going, "Okay"
"But..."
He looked toward the dining room.
"I don't think they need me"
An hour later, books covered nearly every inch of the dining room table; ancient folklore, Men of Letters journals, maps, and handwritten notes.
Miracle had wisely claimed the rug beneath the table.
Felicity looked over another journal, "I found something"
Sam rolled his chair beside hers.
Close enough that their shoulders bumped.
"What is it?"
"These markings", she turned the book toward him, "They aren't random... they're protective wards"
Sam studied the illustration.
Then another.
His eyes widened.
"They're hunting the wrong creature"
"What?"
"It's not a wraith" Sam pieced together, "It's a forest spirit, completely different weaknesses"
He immediately reached for the phone.
Caleb answered on the first ring.
"Sam?"
"Listen carefully"
For nearly twenty minutes Sam talked him through everything; what to carry, what not to do, where to trap the creature and most importantly, how to keep everyone alive.
Caleb interrupted once, "So... you're coming?"
Sam looked across the table at Felicity.
At the books.
At the home surrounding him.
Then he smiled, "No... you've got this."
"I do?"
"You called for help" Sam said, "You listened that already makes you smarter than half the hunters I grew up with"
A nervous laugh came through the speaker, "But what if I mess up?"
"You probably will" Sam agreed, "So did I.... So did Dean and so did Bobby. The most important part is that you learn"
Another pause.
Then Caleb asked quietly, "Will you stay by the phone?"
Sam smiled, "As long as you need"
Hours passed.
The books never left the table.
Neither did Sam.
Every so often Caleb called with an update.
Every time, Sam calmly walked him through the next step.
Never raising his voice.
Never making him feel foolish.
Simply teaching.
Guiding.
Believing.
Late that afternoon, the phone rang one final time.
"We got it!"
Caleb sounded almost breathless.
"No one died!"
Sam closed his eyes, relief washing over him.
"Good work"
"I couldn't have done it without you"
"Sure you could"
"No" Caleb disagreed, "I just needed somebody to tell me where to start"
After hanging up, the house fell wonderfully quiet again.
Felicity leaned back in her chair, "Well?"
Sam stared at the phone, a strange feeling settled in his chest.
Not the familiar rush of adrenaline.
Not the satisfaction of winning a hunt.
Something steadier.
Deeper.
"I still helped"
"You did"
"I wasn't there"
"No"
"I didn't pick up a weapon"
"No"
"I didn't save them"
Felicity smiled knowingly, "I think you did"
Sam looked around the room.
Books stacked high.
Research spread across the table.
Coffee cups.
Afternoon sunlight.
Home.
Then he laughed, a quiet, surprised laugh.
"What?"
"I know why this feels familiar"
She tilted her head, "Why?"
He looked toward the shelves lining the room.
"Because this..."
He gestured around them.
"...is Bobby's job."
Felicity smiled immediately, "It is"
"He was always the one we called" Sam smiled, "The one who knew where to look...The one who answered the phone"
Sam nodded slowly, "I used to think Bobby was retired"
She smiled, "I don't think he ever retired... I think he just changed jobs"
The words settled over both of them.
Sam leaned back in his chair.
Thinking about Bobby.
About the bunker.
About Dean.
About all the hunters who had called Bobby's salvage yard in the middle of the night, desperate for an answer.
He had never realized, Bobby wasn't standing behind the front lines.
He was holding them together.
Felicity reached across the table and laced her fingers through his.
"You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think every generation needs someone like Bobby"
Sam looked at their joined hands.
Then out the window.
The breeze stirred the leaves on the porch.
Miracle barked happily at absolutely nothing.
He smiled, "I think..."
He squeezed her hand.
"...I'd be honored if I became that person"
Felicity's eyes shimmered, "I think Bobby would be proud"
Sam looked toward the ceiling with a fond smile.
"And Dean?"
She laughed.
"Oh, Dean would never let you hear the end of it"
He raised an eyebrow.
"'Look at you, Sammy. You're the old guy with the books now'"
She deepened her voice in a passable Dean impression.
"'Next thing I know, you'll be telling kids to put coasters under their drinks!'"
Sam burst into laughter.
"You know what... I probably would"
"I know you would"
Their laughter echoed through the house.
Not replacing the voices they'd lost.
But joining them.
Building something new from everything that had come before.
And somewhere, if Bobby Singer could have seen the dining room table covered in lore books, and coffee mugs
He probably would've smiled, adjusted his cap, and muttered,
"About damn time, boy."
