“I totally owe you a drink.”
October 14
“Again, Dean?” Sam laughed when Dean threw scissors for the third time in a row. Dean looked disgruntled and annoyed, but that was his problem.
Sam flashed a smile to where Harry stood, only looking half-awake and clutching a mug of coffee like it was his most valuable possession. The time difference was a pain, but Sam had told him he should have went to sleep during the day yesterday.
“Ready?” Sam asked him brightly. Sam chuckled when the sound of his voice made Harry wince and Dean to scowl.
“You’re cheating,” Dean huffed before throwing himself on a recliner. “Kid, say the word and I’ll kick Sam’s ass and go with. You’d rather have me than him on a date, trust me.”
“It’s not a date,” Harry mumbled. Harry downed the rest of his coffee, nostalgically reminding Sam of his own school days, before putting the mug on the dining table. “And Sam just wants to go so he can see Tonks.”
“That is not why I’m going,” Sam protested. “I’m going to get some new books.”
And if Tonks happened to show up, then Sam could thank her for the tip about his job. It had been thanks to her that he got it, though he nearly lost it on his very first case.
Between the shifter and civilian that tried to hunt it himself, Sam didn’t exactly close his first case quietly. White had made it clear that day that Sam’s priority needed to be on quiet more than quick, and that Sam was on thin ice.
Sam had closed another case immediately after that one, an easy haunting that ended in a standard salt and burn. They bounced down to Tennessee after that, taking down a siren that had been luring tourists away from their friends and families.
Not a single case after the shifter ended with Sam on the evening news or the FBI getting called.
He hoped it meant the ice he stood on got thicker. If he could pick up some books, set up his own method to track his hunts (Sam had been using a journal like John’s, but he wanted to find something more effective and less… like John), then he would only get better.
The better he became, the more efficient, the quicker he could leave the FBI showing up on his first official case in the past.
Dean looked skeptical about Sam’s intentions on going to Hogsmeade with Harry. If he wanted to go then he should choose a new opening move… or quit insisting that they settle everything with rock, paper, scissors.
“Sure, Sammy, I believe you.” Dean yawned and stretched out. “I guess I’ll just hang out here. Maybe I’ll go to town tonight, see what I can pick up.”
“Will you get more of those tiny muffins?” Harry asked, grossly misunderstanding what it was that Dean wanted to pick up. “Sam ate all the good ones.”
“Will do,” Dean quipped. Judging from how his eyes were already closing, Sam figured it was a fifty fifty shot that he remembered. “Have fun, boys.”
Sam planned on it.
The portkey Harry had from his teacher made Sam feel just as nauseous as he had the first time he used it. Landing in a bitterly cold Scotland morning wasn’t exactly fun either, but Harry had it worse as he landed on his ass.
“Good morning, Harry.” Dumbledore stood outside, dressed in a navy robe with silver stars that time. Dumbledore offered Harry a hand, lifting Sam’s blushing brother up, before nodding at Sam. “And Mister Winchester, I hear that congratulations are in order.”
“Oh. Thank you?” Sam said, puzzled by the congratulations and handshake he was offered.
“It’s no small feat for a man without magic to be appointed to MACUSA’s defense department,” Dumbledore explained.
“Sam’s the first muggle to work for the auror department,” Harry bragged, causing Dumbledore to smile more widely. “He’s got his own department, sir. We’re very proud of him.”
Sam knew without looking that his face had turned a dark red at the praise from his fourteen year old brother. It was just like Harry to say something like that, he had taken up peacekeeping between Sam and Dean since their fight in Milwaukee.
It was stupid, but it went a ways up mending Sam’s hurt feelings. Sam might have been Dean’s practice kid, but Harry seemed like he really looked up to Sam.
It meant a lot, more than Sam thought he could put in words.
“That is quite remarkable,” Dumbledore told them. He turned to the door of the Hog’s Head and tapped the handle with his wand, unlocking the door and holding it open for them. “And your other brother? He’s well?”
“He’s going to college, sir,” Harry said, continuing his bragging. “He sent in his application the other day.”
“He did?” Sam didn’t know that. Harry paused and peered uncertainly up at Sam. “He sent in an application?” Sam elucidated, seeing Harry’s confusion.
“Oh, er… yes,” Harry said. “I thought he told you?”
“No.” Sam’s cheer dipped low for a moment, his own uncertainty flaring. Why wouldn’t Dean tell him that? Sam would have helped him fill out the application, collect any transcripts he needed.
“Er…” Harry chewed his lower lip for a second before brightening. “If you give me back my cloak, I’ll tell you which college he applied to.”
Sam forced a smirk then. It was the same song Harry had been singing for weeks. Harry had probably never been disciplined in a normal and healthy way before and it was making the poor kid crazy. Though he never pushed too hard, which made Sam think that the parenting books he read were right - there was a part of Harry that needed the structure of healthy discipline.
“No chance,” Sam said. He held a hand out for Harry’s bag of clothes to take to their room, as he had the last time they were in Hogsmeade. “I’ll see you in a few hours?”
“Fine.” Harry sighed dramatically before turning to his teacher. “Same place as last time, sir?”
“Certainly,” Dumbledore agreed. There was an amused glimmer in his eyes as he waved for Harry to follow him. “I must hear how you’ve become separated from your cloak though, Harry. Professor McGonagall will want every detail when I fill her in later.”
“Well, sir, it’s entirely Sam and Dean’s fault…”
Sam laughed to himself while he listened to Harry spinning his own choices to blame Sam and Dean for taking his cloak. Maybe Harry shouldn’t use it to break into a bank that he thought was being actively robbed, but that was just Sam…
Sam took their bags up to the room they had stayed in before and dropped one on each bed. Unlike last time, Sam prepared beforehand on what he would need that weekend. It wasn’t hard to trade cash for wizarding coins, even if the conversion system made no sense to Sam.
After he finished up in Tennessee, he and his brothers found a wizarding city in Nashville, just as expansive and interesting as the one in Dallas was. American wizarding cities would take cash or credit, but Britain was ‘like super behind on times’ according to the clerk that did the exchange for Sam.
Sam didn’t care about how behind on times anyone was, he just wanted to have enough money to spend his morning in a book store and maybe buy a drink for Tonks… if she showed up.
Sam spent a solid three hours in the bookstore of Hogsmeade. Most of their books were geared toward school children, which probably made up a large percentage of their customers. That didn’t bother Sam though, not when he wanted to learn about creatures and magical history more than anything else.
The dude that ran the shop was a lot kinder than the one who worked at the pawn shop Sam had visited last month. Not only did he not report Sam as suspicious, but he even gave him some book suggestions.
“These’ll have your brother in them,” he said, eyes wide when he brought Sam a stack of eight books. “That’s who you are, right? Harry Potter’s brother?”
It wasn’t a new experience for Sam, who had been ‘Dean Winchester’s little brother’ at every school be and Dean attended together, but it didn’t fail to bring a wry smile to his face. Maybe he should have let Dean win, it would have been good for his ego to see what Sam suffered through for years.
“That’s me,” Sam said, his sarcasm lost on the shop keeper. “Thank you.”
With the books from the shop keeper and the dozen that Sam had already picked out, he had to prioritize what needed bought then and what could wait a month. Sam would get his first check at the end of the month, which meant as many books as he could buy - and a few bookcases for his bedroom.
It was still strange to Sam, having a bedroom. Dean had went full force on decorating his room and setting up the house for the three of them. Sam had been more reluctant, unwilling to believe it was permanent.
Nothing in Sam’s life was ever permanent. So, no, he didn’t want to paint and decorate. Bookcases might get Dean off his back about it though.
Sam ended up with only eight books, but one of them was about demonology, something that would come in handy. Azazel had been quiet since he spoke with Sam before, plotting something. Sam hadn’t forgotten that the day Azazel believed the gate to Hell would be opened was approaching.
Ash didn’t have any new leads, last Sam called him. It had been an uncomfortable conversation, as Ash said that Ellen wanted to talk to him. Sam had hung up before Ellen took the phone, unable to bear whatever she had to say.
Dean and Harry might have forgiven Sam for the horrible things he did when Meg had possessed him, but they were his family. Ellen and Jo had no similar reason to so much as let Sam apologize without blowing his head off.
Maybe when more time passed, maybe when Sam could prove that he was one of the good guys - Sam wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t a freak. Then he could call and apologize. There were too many deaths on Sam’s shoulders, too much blood on his hands, for him to do it yet.
Aberforth was awake and behind the bar when Sam returned to the bar with his bag of books.
“Back again,” Aberforth said as a greeting.
Sam took a seat at the bar, angling himself so he could watch the door from the corner of his eye, and nodded politely.
“Every month,” he joked.
“Dunno about that.” Aberforth poured Sam a beer without him asking. Eleven was a little early for a beer, but Sam didn’t turn it down when it was placed before him. “Albus’ll lose interest in his project soon enough.”
Sam furrowed his brow, not liking the implications of that at all.
“Harry is a student, he has an obligation to teach him,” Sam said shortly. Dumbledore looked Dean in the eyes and said that he would make Harry’s education a priority. “Harry isn’t a project.”
“Everything’s a project to Albus,” Aberforth said deadpan. “You hungry, kid?”
Sam wasn’t going to argue with him. It was clear that he and Harry’s teacher were related, brothers, if Sam had to guess. Sam also waved off the offer for food, choosing to wait in case… well… in case Tonks showed up.
It made Sam feel guilty, hoping that Tonks would show up. He wasn’t trying to get involved with her, no matter what jokes Harry and Dean made about it. Tonks had just done Sam a favor when she told him about the auror department and how Sam basically did their job for free, that was all.
Sam didn’t have to wait long. He didn’t even have time to finish one book before Tonks showed up. It took him longer than usual to read, since he wanted to jot down notes as he went, but still.
She was punctual to the meet-up that Sam had only hoped would happen.
“Sam!” Tonks strode in the bar, smiling widely at Sam. Her hair was longer than before, done in a single pink braid that went over her shoulder, and she was dressed casually in jeans and a thick sweater beneath a coat. Not working then, Sam guessed.
Thank God that Sam didn’t have to wear robes when he worked, it would make everything ten times as complicated.
Sam fought back a blush when he stood up and pulled a stool out for Tonks. He didn’t know for sure that she was there just because he had told her last month that he would be, but she seemed happy to accept it anyway.
“Hello. Hi,” Sam said, as awkward as a preteen.
God, why was he so awkward around women?! Dean could walk in any place, any time, and have women and men both tripping for his attention.
Sam had never had Dean’s easy confidence, his certainty that he was the best thing to happen to a person. Sam was… Sam.
“Hi.” Tonks had a playful grin and she lowered her head in a mock bow she took the seat Sam scooted out for her.
Sam was an idiot.
“Do you want a drink?” Sam asked, speaking too quickly, knowing it, and unable to stop. “I figured out how to convert dollars to galleons and sickles, or the bank did, anyway. And I totally owe you a drink because I got a job, and it’s thanks to you, really. But if you’re here to not have a drink—”
Sam found the willpower to shut the hell up when Tonks peeled her coat off, laughing at him while she did it.
“I don’t go to many pubs to not drink,” she said. Sam watched as she stuck her coat to the counter, magically making it hang in place. “I’ll have whatever you’re having, while you tell me about a job I helped you get?”
“Yeah, sure.” Sam laughed and pushed his hair back, trying in vain to not sound like an idiot. He lifted his hand, catching Aberforth’s attention, and pulled two of the silver coins, Sickles, from his pocket to pay.
Even if Sam thought he was awkward and flustered, Tonks didn’t act any differently than she had the last time they talked. Of course, Sam had his arm twisted by a fourteen year old that time and he had privately been hoping for it then, but still. It was a relief that she didn’t think he was acting oddly.
Aberforth refused Sam’s coins when he tried to pay for the drinks, he only muttered something about ‘charging Albus’. Sam slid them back carefully, deciding that he would pay Harry’s teacher instead then - and that Aberforth and Albus were definitely brothers, Sam was certain of it.
“Thanks.” Tonks’s smile didn’t drop at all when Sam gave her the room temp beer that Aberforth served. Sam didn’t think it was as good as cold beer, and Dean had went apoplectic when Sam told him about it before, but when in Rome…
“Now tell me everything about a job?” Tonks asked.
Sam could do that, without stuttering or stammering or looking stupid at all. Sam credited Tonks with giving him the idea and the location of MACUSA Headquarters and she pushed it off herself.
“You’ve got bollocks!” Tonks cried. Her eyes were sparkling brightly, delighted when Sam told her about waltzing right inside and requesting an application for the auror department. “Merlin, Sam. No wonder they hired you! Kingsley, my boss, would have a fit if a muggle did that!”
“Well it worked,” Sam said, his nerves gone for the easy conversation. “I mean, I think they had to hire me or they’d look stupid after I scored so high on their test…”
“Having a famous brother probably didn’t hurt,” Tonks winked.
Sam deflated some. “Yeah, probably not,” he admitted.
If Sam had wondered what the push to hire him was before Milwaukee, it had been explained in crystal clear terms. Harry was famous, beloved. Sam would be fired immediately if he let Harry get hurt on a job.
Sam wouldn’t let Harry get hurt anyway, that was his little brother, but White couldn’t have been more clear if he had written it in crayon.
Maybe Tonks noticed Sam’s small dip in mood, maybe not, he was grateful either way when she started asking about jobs he had worked since getting hired.
When Sam didn’t get caught up in thinking about Tonks as an attractive and intelligent woman, she was easy to talk to. It was almost like shooting the breeze with another hunter, except Sam liked Tonks and he had never met a hunter outside of his family that he liked.
The Winchesters were the odd men out in groups of hunters. Even if it was a job better done with a partner, not many of them could handle the consistent closeness that hunting could push. Even Sam and Dean blew up on each other after a while of living in each others pockets.
Between the isolation, inability to share details of their day, ands the paranoia that came with seeing monsters in every shadow… hunters tended to be abrasive, aggressive, and just assholes. Every conversation was a pissing contest, every tip was shared condescendingly.
Tonks wasn’t like that.
Sam told her about the shifter in Milwaukee, how it had changed appearances more quickly than the last one that Sam and Dean had hunted in St Louis.
“It’s an adult, the last one must have been younger,” Tonks said knowingly. “The truly old ones can shed their skin before you can properly blink. It makes it hard for some aurors to tell them apart from metamorphmagi. If they can kick the skin away quick enough, it’s a bloody pain.”
“Metamorphmagi?” Sam repeated. He could guess, based on context and lexicology, it just wasn’t a term he was familiar with yet.
“Don’t stab me.” Tonks turned in her seat, brushing her knees with Sam’s thighs and suddenly began changing. Her hair shortened, turned a dark brown. Her nose lengthened some, became wider. Even while Sam gaped at her, her eyes became more rounded and shimmered before settling on a hazel color.
“Holy hell.” Sam couldn’t help raising his hand, tentatively touching the side of Tonks’s face, or what it had been anyway. It was Sam’s face then, a perfect replica staring back at him.
“Voices are hard,” Tonks said, her accented and feminine voice sounding so wrong coming out of Sam’s mouth. “Unless I do this…”
Sam burst out a surprised laugh when he watched his nose change to a horrifying looking beak make of cartilage and skin right in the middle of his - her - face. His laughter only got louder when Tonks quacked, not caring at all about the looks the three other patrons of the bar sent her.
“That’s amazing!” Sam said. He watched as Tonks changed back, one gesture at a time changing. It wasn’t cute to see his nose crinkled up in concentration, but it looked good when Tonks was Tonks again.
“Is that hard to do?” Sam asked. He had so many new questions. “Is it something you learned at Hogwarts?” Harry said that magic not using a wand was nearly impossible, but Sam didn’t see Tonks touch hers while she had been changing.
“It’s not really something people can learn,” Tonks said, her face still thoughtful. “It’s really something you’re born with. My mom reckons that the most powerful witches and wizards could only change their hair color, maybe.”
“Is it genetic or entirely random?” Sam asked.
“Truthfully? I’ve got no idea.” Tonks didn’t seem bothered by her lack of knowledge while Sam had added ‘metamorphmagus’ to his list of subjects to be researched.
“I’m the only one in my family for generations, but my dad’s a muggleborn and Mum’s family tree looks like…” Tonks held a finger up and started drawing spirals in air, bringing another laugh to Sam’s lips.
Other hunters weren’t funny either.
“Well now I kind of want to ask how a family tree gets so incestuous,” Sam admitted with a grin. “Is that a born-wizard thing?”
“For the Blacks? Absolutely. Have you heard of Sirius Black? Your brother’s godfather?”
Sam nodded, not willing to say anything else about him. Sam saw that dude at least twice a week on Harry’s mirror, though the calls had seemed to slow down recently.
Maybe Harry was more comfortable being around Sam and Dean. Or maybe he got sick of being mistaken for his dead dad. Sam didn’t ask, he just knew that Harry was anxious for the first of November, when the council of wizards (Sam didn’t actually understand how the politics of British wizards worked, but it seemed needlessly complex) would meet to discuss Sirius’s legal case.
“Well Sirius’s mum and my grandmum, on my mum’s side, were sisters, which made Sirius and my mum cousins, right?” Tonks leaned toward Sam, very much in his space.
Christ. She was pretty, even more so when she looked like she was about to share some juicy gossip with him.
“My mum was meant to marry Sirius!”
“No!” Sam didn’t mean to gasp, he just got caught up in the drama. “So what happened?”
“Mum said no, broke the family tradition of marrying cousins,” Tonks said. She sat back in her seat, but her legs were warm where they were pressed against his. “She’s rather hoping that Harry’s right and Sirius is innocent, it would make her the second worst disappointment to the Blacks.”
‘The Blacks’ were absolutely crazy. Tonks was too eager to share everything about her family, spinning stories so vividly that Sam felt like he was caught up in a soap opera.
It was no wonder that Sirius only seemed half-sane, the dude never had a chance.
“And they never found him?” Sam asked after Tonks finished a story about Sirius’s younger brother who went missing around the same time as Harry had been born.
Somewhere around Tonks explaining the family tradition of hating muggles and seeking power, they had ordered food. Tonks plucked up a fry from Sam’s plate and winked unrepentantly before popping it in her mouth.
Sam was momentarily distracted by her lips, but it was a there and gone type of thought.
“Nope. Mum thinks he was killed by You-Know-Who though,” Tonks said after she swallowed. “There are some bets at work, about if Harry’s in contact with Sirius. If so, tell him to ask if Regulus is really dead or not. I’d get a promotion if I could be the one to catch a dead wizard.”
“Ouch.” Sam clutched at his chest jokingly. “And here I thought you liked my company, but I’m just a stepping stone for a promotion.”
“A very fit and attractive stepping stone, I assure you,” Tonks said with a haughty sniff. “I wouldn’t just use anyone for the advancement of my career, Sam. You should be flattered.”
When Sam laughed then, Tonks did too. Sam, for some stupid reason, thought of something Dean told him when Sam had been Harry’s age and needed help with girls. Dean told him that Sam could tell if a chick liked him because she would have her body angled toward him.
“If it’s a monster, they’re gonna attack,” Dean said, seeming so wise to Sam. “If it’s a chick, they might attack too, but you’ll like that one.”
“Why would I like being attacked?” Sam asked. He knew too much about monsters, not enough about normal things - like girls.
Dean rolled his eyes and punched Sam’s arm playfully.
“You’ll figure it out, dude.”
Sam took note of how Tonks was aimed toward him, her entire body turned to the side in her barstool to face him. It made his throat dry and his heart to accelerate.
For all the ways that Tonks reminded Sam of Jessica, with her optimism and cheer, and even the way that she knocked over her drink while she told a story with her hands… Tonks wasn’t Jessica.
Jessica had been sweet, innocent, pure. Tonks was the closest thing to a hunter that the wizarding world had, and she was good at it. Good enough that she couldn’t be pinned to a ceiling by a demon or taken hostage by one.
Tonks was tough, but feminine with her pink hair and soft looking lips.
Sam didn’t have any clever pickup lines, Dean would have had a hundred, but he sort of didn’t want his time with Tonks to end…
“Hey, do you…” Sam hesitated for a second, subtly wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans and trying to decide what he wanted to ask her. Did she want to go get dinner later? Did she… want Sam to find his own room for the night? Did she have a cell phone that Sam could call?
Tonks was patient, giving Sam time to say something that wasn’t incredibly stupid. It was nice of her, honestly, and pointless since they were interrupted before Sam could decide what to ask.
“Hey.”
Sam jumped like he’d been stabbed instead of just surprised by his brother. Sam whipped his head to the right and felt hot when he saw that Harry stood there, blinking at him.
“Harry! Hi!” Sam really hoped that Harry had just walked up and didn’t witness Sam probably crashing and burning. Harry looked a little confused, but not giggly or smirky like Sam thought he might if he had witnessed Sam embarrassing himself.
“How did it go?” Sam asked quickly, praying Harry didn’t pick up on Sam’s nervousness or the way that Tonks wilted… like maybe she was disappointed?
“Fine.” Harry leaned back to glance at Tonks and he looked just like Dean when he grinned. “Did you get another call or are you stalking my brother?”
Sam didn’t groan, but he wanted to.
“Stalking is illegal,” Tonks said without missing a beat. “Guessing that your lessons would line up on Hogsmeade weekends and then finding the dates of the next one and requesting those days off work?” Tonks paused to take a drink, her eyes glimmering with amusement while Sam and Harry both stared at her. “That’s quite legal.”
Sam probably should have been concerned and not… really turned on.
“I’ll just… go get treats for Hedwig then,” Harry said cheerfully while Sam and Tonks looked at each other. “Sam, if I leave my school bag with you, could you not ground me from it? Like my dad’s cloak, it’s important.”
Sam sighed when Harry dropped his bag with a thud and walked out of the bar by himself. If Harry started whistling after his attempts to set Sam up, he’d really finish off the picture of Dean.
“I should go…” Sam hedged to Tonks. The moment was kind of ruined, Sam’s momentary confidence was shot. “He’s likely to rob a bank or something just to prove a point. Don’t ask,” he grinned when Tonks looked ready to ask what he meant by that.
“Okay, I understand.” Tonks definitely looked flirty when she tilted her head and looked up at Sam through her lashes. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Sam said, meaning it. Sam knew that he would be thinking of nothing else until he found a new case. John used to say that Sam had a one-track mind - Dean called him obsessive - and Sam’s mind was circling around the interesting, capable, and gorgeous witch that seemed interested in Sam.
“Do you- do you have a phone number?” Sam asked her. “Just so maybe you don’t accidentally start stalking me,” he added quickly with a nervous and crooked grin.
“I don’t.”
Maybe Tonks wasn’t as interested as Sam thought. She only shrugged and added a vague little “I’m sure we’ll work something out.”
Sam was disappointed when he left to go track down his brother, but maybe he shouldn’t have been? He had still spent - holy crap - apparently five hours just talking and hanging out with someone that he wasn’t related to. It had been nice, unexpected.
If Sam was lucky, maybe he would see her again the next month?
Sam ignored Harry’s teasing jokes that he made when he finally caught up to him. Harry was easy to subvert, all Sam had to do was ask him if he was nervous about his date the next day.
“It is not a date,” Harry hissed with his cheeks flushed red on their way back to the Hog’s Head. Harry bought treats and food for his owl at the pet shop - and had a whispered conversation with snakes for Sam’s benefit.
Which cleared up a few old questions Sam had since they went to the zoo.
It was easy to remember that Sam went to Hogsmeade to hang out with his brother when they were hanging out. Sam had hurt Harry’s feelings when he and Dean fought in Milwaukee, but the shit he said seemed to fade easily in Harry’s memory.
Harry was too forgiving, but Sam wasn’t going to complain about it.
“Dude.” Sam held the door to the bar open for Harry and did a quick sweep just to check if maybe Tonks had hung around.
She hadn’t.
“You brought three different outfits with you,” Sam reminded Harry. Sam knew Harry had three different outfits because their bedrooms were connected with a bathroom and Sam had accidentally walked in on Harry inspecting himself in one of them.
Sam told him that Dean’s shirt was baggy and it became open season on Harry modeling clothes to Sam. Harry definitely had the Winchester aesthetic when he gravitated to flannels and t-shirts… mostly Dean’s t-shirts though, which made Sam’s heart twinge a little.
Sam slipped a couple of his own shirts in Harry’s closet, definitely not jealous of how close Harry and Dean had gotten.
“Because - because - I didn’t know what the weather would be like!” Harry said, defensive as hell.
“Suuure,” Sam teased him. “I believe you.”
“You’re the worst,” Harry groaned, charging ahead to the hallway beside the bar that would lead upstairs to their room. “I’m going to tell Dean to use paper next month.”
Sam chuckled, sure that Harry was being dramatic. If Harry thought Sam was bad, he’d be miserable if Dean were there to tease him.
Aberforth nodded at Harry when Harry passed him to get to the staircase then stuck an arm out when Sam went to follow.
“I’m no owl,” Aberforth said before Sam could wonder what he wanted. Aberforth held a scrap of paper out for Sam and he couldn’t help but be suspicious when he looked at it.
It was a short message, one that took Sam entirely too long to decode.
Idis Inn, room 18
Sam looked at the note for a long time, standing in place and considering the implications.
Did Tonks… did she get a motel room?
“Is this…?” Sam looked up and saw Aberforth give him an especially disgruntled look.
“Down the road, past the hat shop,” Aberforth told him. Sam didn’t hear what he muttered as he stormed away to the other end of the bar, but he was pretty sure it was something similar to ‘I should start charging you’.
All Sam could think was… it would be really easy to go over there when Harry fell asleep… Harry didn’t sleep the night before, he was exhausted… Sam wouldn’t be the worst brother ever if he just snuck out after Harry passed out, would he?
No… he would be Dean…
… who Sam had always looked up to and admired…
In the end, it was an easy decision.