The Journal of Sam Winchester

(not Sammy)


i'm on the phone, i'm on the phone and laughing
Sam Winchester psychic_wonder
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16 Unicorn Street, Sunday evening
Sam hadn't slept well after talking to Dean, too wound up at knowing that Dean was mad at him, but even fitful sleep was better than what he'd been getting over spring break, and waking up to find Peter still beside him brought Sam one step closer to acknowledging that all of this was real, and that everything, aside from Peter's memories, had worked out exactly like he'd fantasized about.

Jetlag was still kicking both of their asses though, so later in the day, Peter was getting more rest while Sam was trying not to think about what kind of conditions Peter might have been living in in the back of a pub. Now seemed like a good time to share the good news a little further out, but after talking to Dean, Sam decided to stick to voicemail instead. It helped that he didn't want to leave Peter alone for too long, or have anyone else over to the house while Peter's memories were still as fragile as he was. Flipping his phone open again, Sam sat back on the couch with one last call to make. He wasn't sure if people were back from the trip yet, but he figured he had one more rambling message in him in case the call didn't go through.

Claire was back and had decided to skip Fight Club to unpack from the trip. She was definitely not looking forward to doing laundry.

Luckily, the phone distracted her from thinking about it.

"Hey, Sam," she said, having checked her caller ID. "How was your break? The Bahamas were amazing."

After talking to nothing but machines, having a live voice was almost startling, and Sam realized that his rambling was probably going to get even worse. Poor Claire.

"Um, my break was really, really, really good," he said. "Are you sitting down? You might want to sit or lean against something."

Even though Sam said his break was really good, the whole 'sitting down' thing made Claire's heart speed up.

She shoved aside a pile of dirty clothes and sat on her bed.

"Okay," she said, her tone wary. "I'm sitting down."

"Okay," Sam said, pausing for a moment to try to figure out where to start. "It's about Peter and Nathan. I didn't want to say anything when I still wasn't sure what was going on, because I didn't want to get your hopes up and have everything turn out to be a trick or a fake or something even worse, but a few weeks ago, Isabel was dreamwalking, and she found Nathan. Like, alive."

It took a moment for that to sink in. "Nathan is alive? And it's this Nathan? Not some alternate universe Nathan?"

Because she had lost him twice and the idea of finding a third Nathan who hadn't gone through Kirby Plaza made her kind of sick.

"Yeah, it's this Nathan," Sam said. "He's...it's like nothing happened to him. He looks totally fine. I went to New York for the break and he was there at Peter's apartment, so I know it's really him." Realizing that he'd fast-forwarded in his babbling a little too far, he stopped and tried to backtrack. "Isabel found Nathan, and she found Peter too. But only like, once, and then he disappeared again. That's why I went to New York."

"But... how? I mean, Nathan didn't have a healing ability and..."

Sam's words caught up with her.

"She found Peter, too?" Claire asked. "Did he... is he...?"

"He's alive," Sam said. No, he wasn't going to get tired of that any time soon. "I found him. He ended up in Ireland somehow, I still don't know how, but he's okay. He and Nathan are both okay."

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Peter was awakke. He was looking around Sam's room. He wasn't touching anything, but he was hoping he could see something that would jog his memory.

Unfortunately, so far nothing.

Sam came back upstairs and pretty much bee-lined over to Peter when he saw that he was up. "Hey, sorry," he said. "I thought you were still resting."

"It's okay," Peter assured him. He looked Sam over. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I was just making some calls," Sam said. There wasn't much point in telling Peter who he'd called, since he wouldn't remember any of them, and Sam did his best to not sigh. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," Peter admitted. He kept looking at Sam. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Sam wasn't really okay at all, but Peter was so much worse that he wasn't about to bring him down. "Don't worry about me, I'm okay," he said, with a wave of his hand. "Do you want me to make us something to eat?"

"Do I normally believe you when you say that?" Peter asked, curious.

The temptation to lie was right there for a second before Sam shook his head. "No, you don't," he said. "But you're also not usually this injured. We have to focus on getting you better, okay?"

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If Sam thought that he could leave a message like that and not get a call back, he was sadly mistaken.

Isabel was no sooner finished with work and in her car then she was dialing Sam's number, trying to urge him to pick up through sheer force of will.

*ring* *ring*

Sam was debating ordering some food when his phone rang, and he smiled when he saw the caller ID come up. "Hey Isabel," he said, keeping his tone neutral in case she hadn't listened to her messages yet.

Lingering worry had Isabel skipping small talk. "Why does he need to feel better? What's wrong?"

Well, that answered the message question all right. "Something happened to his memories. He doesn't remember anything," Sam said. "I think maybe that's why you couldn't find him? He barely knew his own name when I got there."

"His subconscious probably locked itself down," she mused. "Probably trying to protect himself from whatever happened." It was a good thing Isabel didn't know about the Haitian. Otherwise, they'd be having words.

Still, it was good to know that Peter was alive and safe with Sam. They could deal with everything else. "Where was there? How did you find him? And did you even take a single breath while you left me that message?"

"There was Ireland, if you can believe it. I still don't know how he got there," Sam said. "I had a vision about him--" He'd just be leaving the getting shot part out here. "--and I was able to use what I saw to find him. And I'm just a very effective message-leaver, thank you."

"It doesn't matter how he got there," Isabel said. "What matters is that you got him back." She'd sleep much easier tonight.

"It was a very effective message, but next warn me to get somewhere private. Shrieking in the middle of a hallway at work isn't good for my image."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at that mental image. "I'll do better next time, I promise. Have I said thank you enough? I'm not sure I have."

"There'd better not be a next time. But who am I kidding?" she teased with resignation. "It's not like our lives will ever get simpler." And Peter was a trouble magnet. "But yes, you have. And it's totally mutual."

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