#farmer!sam

“Rustlers?” You chuckled. “Wasn’t aware your farm was in the 1800’s.” you teased.

“Hey, it’s still a problem in Canada, okay? You never know.” He leaned his shotgun against the fence post before he leaned on the fence himself right next to you, crossing his feet. “What are you doing here this early, anyways?”

“Thought maybe you could use some help.”

Sam glanced down at his watch before moving it towards you. “It’s 4:37 in the damn morning. Not even I’m up that early.”

“Shit, sorry.” you put your head down on your arms. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“Technically, Lucky did.” You looked up at him. “He was about halfway out my bedroom window. Idiot almost got stuck on the roof trying to get out here to you.”

“Sorry.” you gave off a small chuckle, picturing the dog half way through the window, likely with his tail wagging like crazy. You wondered if it would have hit Sam in the face as he slept.

“So what are you doing out here this early.” he asked again.

You shrugged. “Just hanging out with my girl Bess.” you motioned out to the pregnant cow. You had left the city behind and finally moved in with Castiel months ago, not long after Bess had gotten pregnant.

“Mhm.” Sam watched her too. “I promised Joy she could name the calf when it comes. I’m going to regret that, aren’t I?”

“Probably.”

You were both quiet for a bit, but Sam broke the silence after a few minutes. “You going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing is-”

“You’re staring at a cow at 4 in the morning. Something is bothering you. Must be something serious if you didn’t just take a horse and go for a ride like everyone else does.” You looked at him confused. “You know how many times I wake up to a horse missing and my brothers truck out front? A lot. What is it?”

You sighed and looked at the cows again. “We’re friends right?”

“Mhm.” Sam hummed.

“Are we secret keeping kinda friends?” You looked up at him worried.

His brow furrowed. “Yeah.. though, if you’re planning on leaving Cas, you should probably just talk to him..”

“No, no it’s not that. He’s..” you smiled. “He’s perfect. Not just for me, but… for Joy. I’m scared to fuck it up, actually.”

“I don’t think you could do that. He loves you. What’s wrong?” he asked you once more.

Licking your lips you tried to drop the hint without outright saying the words. The words would make it all too real and you were still processing. “Bess and I.. We’ve got something in common.”

“You-” He tried to think it through, he looked out over at the grazing cow, and then back at you then out at the cow again. “Oh shit.. You’re-”

“Yeah.”

Sam ran his hand through his hair and let out a huff. “Okay, and?”

“And?” you looked up at him in disbelief. “It’s too soon, Sam. I- I don’t even know if he wants kids. I don't even know if I want more kids. After shit with Joy’s dad I just…” you shrugged. “I never considered more. And Cas and I, we never had a talk about it. What if-”

Sam straighten up to his full height again, grabbing your shoulders and turning you to face him. “Hey.” he waited until your eyes met his. “First of all, relax.” You gave him a small nod. “Good. Now, here’s what we’re going to do, okay? We’re going inside, and I’m going to make you breakfast. You’re going to leave Cas a message that you’re here, and we’re going to eat. We can eat in silence, or you can talk to me, and we’ll figure out how to tell him. But you have to tell him.”

“I know.” you nodded.

“No matter what you two decide, I’m here for you. Not just Cas, but you too.”

You nodded again, tearing up as you wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Anytime. Now come on, lets get some breakfast.” You let him go and wiped your face on your sleeve with a sniffle. “Bright side to being up this early? Dean’s coming over later for breakfast. You’ll actually get to see the food before he scoffs it all down.”

You chuckled, and let him wrap an arm around your shoulder as he lead you to the house. “Don’t tell Dean yet.”

“You kidding? He can’t keep a secret.” Sam shook his head. “By the time you got back to your house, he’d already have your nursery built and ready to go.”

“So if he offers?”

“Oh yeah. Take him up on it.”

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Tagging : Cas. - @deanandsamsbitch

Supernatural - @roxyspearing  @internationalmusicteacher @super100012 @legend-o-zelda @sandlee44 @dancingalone21  @superfanficgsp987 @holyfuckloueh  @arses21434 @musiclovinchic93 @your-sparklywinnercollection @closetspngirl @ksgeekgirl @4llmywr1tings  @hobby27 @just-another-busyfangirl 

Part One

It's early evening when Sam wakes up. The apartment he's been renting has his bedroom window boarded up until he's able to find window shades that completely block out the sun. Nothing he's been able to find so far has been able to do a good enough job.

With a yawn and a stretch he rolls over to the side of his bed before sitting up. He rubs his eyes with the back of one hand and stretches the other up into the air, over then behind his head to scratch the back of his neck.

His new routine upon waking up took some getting used to. There's no CJ to worry about at the moment, she's been staying with Cassandra until he's got enough control over himself to not attack her by accident.

Sam gets up and walks to his main room that's mostly taken up by an exercise machine. For an hour and a half Sam works out, one muscle group at a time. He doesn't know if it's necessary to do as a vampire but he does it anyways. He likes the routine of it, of getting up and not having to think too much about what needs to be done.

Chao's told him that routine is a good thing for him to have. He's said that it'll help him keep his mind, keep his humanity, and not fall to the primal urges that other vampires let control them. It will help keep him alive. That's something CJ wants even if Sam doubts sometimes whether it's something that he wants.

After he's done exercising Sam gets in the shower. It's not to wash the sweat off, he doesn't break one anymore – at least he hasn't yet but one day soon he's going to push himself until he finds out his new limits. He doesn't like not knowing how far is too far.

Maybe, Sam thinks while rubbing shampoo into his hair, maybe he'll have Cassandra help him. She might enjoy it. Although she'll probably want to bring CJ along and he's not sure he's willing to test that yet. So maybe he'll just get Chao to help him.

He dries off while thinking about that and trying to think of a workable solution.

When nothing comes to him upon getting dressed Sam gives up the train of thought for another day. Instead he returns his thoughts to another problem facing him. Money. He has enough money squirrelled away to support himself for another month or two but not any longer than that. He needs to work something out that will last him a good long time.

The most obvious answer isn't viable for his new circumstances. Growing fruit or vegetables means you need to be able to go out into the sun. He's sure that given enough time he'll be able to figure something out but he doesn't have the time for that. He'll do the figuring once he has himself a new career built up around him.

The next most obvious answer would be to start applying for college jobs and research grants. He has a Masters degree in mechanical engineering and has kept up with new advances in the field but never really did anything with his degree. He's designed a few things that he'd intended to patent and build that would have helped on the farm but now it's not needed.

CJ's only ever seen him fixing the machinery on the farm, the tractors and trucks and balers, so she thinks that's what his degree is for. To the point she'd offered his services to her teacher at school once when she'd found out the woman's car had broken down. Cassandra knows better, being both an adult and a college graduate herself, but still occasionally asks him from time to time to fix things for her.

The memory makes him pause in his preparing something to eat. It's not an ideal solution but it's workable. He's sure that there will be enough of an interest to keep him in the black at least.

Sam pulls some blank papers to himself to write on. This could work.

It's the third day of Sam's week-long vacation to Colorado in order to visit his cousin and already he's getting antsy. He dislikes being away from his farm even if for only a week and despite how much he knows that CJ loves seeing Cassandra and how much Cassandra loves seeing the both of them.

Don't get him wrong, he adores his cousin. He's just not used to waking up with the sun and not having anything pressing to do.

It's four in the morning and the sun hasn't even started thinking about peeking over the horizon. This is when Sam normally wakes up, though, and he doesn't want to have to deal with getting reacquainted with the hour once he's back home. There's not much for him to do in Aspen Heights, though, that's even close to what he does upon waking up where he lives back in Texas.

So he quietly gets dressed, mindful of the others in Cassandra's home that are all still asleep. CJ won't be up for another hour and a half, when she's usually up to feed the hens before getting ready for school. Until then Sam plans on going out for a run.

Even without knowing his way around town he has an program on his cell phone that helps map a route for him to take. If he follows it's instructions (helpfully piped through his headphones) he should be brought right back to where he started off – Cassandra's front door. At least that's what Missus Miller down the road had said.

He pulls on some shorts, his one pair of sneakers – everything else he owns being a pair of boots for working in the fields – and fills a water bottle with UT Dallas stamped on the side in orange. With Cassandra's spare key in his pocket he goes out to the street and, doing some brief stretching, starts running. It's not as good a workout as the work that goes into keeping his farm from going under, but it's all he can do so he does it.

While Sam runs he lets his mind wander.

CJ's growing up (lord above help him) and soon she's going to have to get the talk. Maybe he'd get Cassandra to do it before they left. She'd know more on the subject from the female side of things than he would, anyways.

The farm's doing well, but he thinks maybe he should branch out to pigs a little more. The litter he'd sold off had gotten him a very nice bit of money. He might need to hire a new farmhand or two for that, though ... Maybe he'll stick to what he knows.

Speaking of maybes, maybe when he got back he'd call some of the guys and put together a game of football. He'll probably be a bit rusty – he hasn't played much since college – but it'll be fun.

Sam's been running for close to an hour and is only about ten minutes from Cassandra's place (according to his cell phone app, he'll have to thank Missus Miller when he gets back home because it's as good as she said) when he's tackled.

It comes from the side, from between two buildings. His body moves on autopilot using instincts built from playing football most of his life and honed in the rodeo he's only just started getting into thanks to some of the men that worked for him. The body's small and incredibly thin but it's grip is like iron and when Sam throws it to the ground it springs straight back up and at him from the front instead.

This time when Sam tries to throw it away and maybe hit back the person's ready for it. They dodge and weave around Sam's attempts to do somethingdo anything but the attacker is faster than he's ever seen before.

Stronger, too, because they grab onto Sam, force him down onto the ground, and hold him there with only one arm. A person half his weight is pinning him to the ground and if anyone back home found out about this he'd never be hearing the end of it.

Sam struggles, fights back, but everything he does is useless and does nothing but tire him out faster. He keeps fighting, though, because even if he doesn't know what this person's going to do to him he'll be damned if he doesn't go down swinging.

Then the person holding him down falls onto Sam's neck and bites.

Sam can't help the shout of surprise and pain and his fighting renews itself. He can feel the person – the thing – on top of him swallowing the blood coming out of the bite wound and sucking at it to make the blood come faster. He can feel himself being drained, being killed, and he doesn't want to die.

He tries to keep fighting, he does, but he's quickly void of enough energy to.

He doesn't want to die, though. He wants to see CJ graduate, get married, have children of her own.

When the weight on top of him leaves suddenly Sam doesn't notice it.

The cursing of the person who pulled his attacker off him isn't noticed, either.

Something he does notice, though, is the liquid being dribbled down into his mouth. When he's conscious enough to taste it the metallic tang is gone and it's become an addictive sweetness that he needs more of, more and more because suddenly he's starving.

Eventually, though, the liquid stops and Sam comes back to himself. He's still starving, though, and can't remember ever having been this hungry before. Not even in college when he was broke for most of the years he spent there and lived off various types of noodles.

It was an Asian man in front of him, now, and the man looked like someone had just killed his favourite dog. Sam stared at the man for a long moment before realizing he was speaking.

“Can you understand me?” the words had a heavy Chinese accent to them. “We must get inside, where are you staying, where do you live?”

A long moment passed before Sam realized an answer was going to be expected. “Down the road, Cassandra Mathers?” he pointed in the direction that his cousin's home was in, hoping that this person knew her. Everyone seemed to know her in this town.

This Asian man did too, apparently, because Sam was quickly and easily hoisted to his feet before being led down the street. It seemed to take forever to get there but soon enough they were turning into a doorway and when Sam looked properly he realized that it was Cassandra's.

“Stay silent and let me explain things to her.” The other man ordered. Sam didn't know what was going on ... but he had a feeling it wasn't good at all.