[Set in Save Tonight. Cowritten with imrelentless. Becca is waterdoesntwork.]

Shannon had dinner with her parents as per usual, but when she and Sam got back home she went into her room to shower and change. She put on a shorter skirt than she’d wear around her father and a lighter top. She had never been too great at the dressing up thing, but her mother had been trying to help most of her life. In fact her mom had picked the skirt out. It was just something they’d never tell Michael.

She put her hair up on top of her head and grabbed a pair of black sandals with short heels, then picked up her purse and headed into the small living room. She did a little spin. “How do I look?” She asked her uncle.

“You look great,” Sam nodded. “If I were a younger man and not friends with your dad ... ”

( *** )

Just in case I need it again.

( Under the cut )

[Set in whatyou_wanted. Sam Winchester is imnot_likeyou and mine to use and abuse. Dean referenced is ohgodkillme_now. It is so hard writing a prompt with two Sams. Seriously.]

“I soon found out you can't change the world. The best you can do is to learn to live with it.”

First rule of being a Time Agent: Screw them before they screw you.

That lesson had been apparent to Sam Axe from the beginning. He came out of the experience with very few loyalties, very few friends, and a partner who never really managed to grasp the concept. He had to say, for all his bluster and hardass, John Winchester never lost sight of the original Agency mission statement of first do no harm. He never looted, never took what he didn’t have to, and while Sam came out of his agency years with more loot and tech than he knew what to do with, John just wanted to go home to his boys. Admirable, to be sure, but not a way to build a plan for retirement.

In fact, the way to build a plan for retirement from the Agency was to have your own version of a vortex manipulator, and a stash house in the twenty-first century. Or to be in middle management, but that really wasn’t all that appealing. John had neither, probably because he would never leave his sons for anything in the world. Sam would have helped him, if he had known, but he managed to get there too late.

He had to say, for all it’s losses, he very much liked 2009. The technology was archaic, but the women were beautiful, and really, at his age? That was what he cared about more than if computers were the size of a text book or a wrist watch. That, plus the impressive amount of money that he had managed to stack up for himself over the years, and he was set for life—more or less. The jury was still out on being Sam Winchester’s informant, though.

( *** )

1181 words

[Fiona is maybenext_time and used with permission from her mun who made a request for a Sam and Fi future!fic with the prompt “bail-out.”]

Sam let his wrist rest against the top of the steering wheel while he continued to watch the door of the police precinct, quietly counting down the seconds in his head. The longer it took Fi to get from the holding cell to the front door, the more trouble she was in, and he wasn’t in the mood for a lot of trouble today. In fact, he hadn’t been in the mood for any trouble at all, but he wasn’t about to let Fiona sit in jail for too long. Never mind the fact that Michael wouldn’t like it—the longer Fiona was left to her own devices, the more trouble she tended to get in to, and then Sam would just have an even bigger hole to dig her out of.

It was another five minutes before Fiona made her way out of the precinct, looking more annoyed than she feasibly should be, but Sam wasn’t about to poke at an open wound. Instead he just gave her a heavy sigh, and shook his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Don’t you think you’re gettin’ a little old for this kind of thing, Fi?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sam,” she said softly as she plopped herself down in the passenger’s seat next to him. “Apparently, you’re never too old to be picked up on bogus charges.” She paused for a moment, glancing around in the car for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. “Where’s Michael?”

Sam hesitated for a moment before giving a half-shrug and starting to pull away from the curb. “On a case. As usual.”

Fiona didn’t look particularly pleased by that information. “Of course he is. Where else would he be?”

Sam sighed heavily, glancing over at her. “You know how much is riding on this job, Fi. He’s had to do a lot of undercover work for this one. It wouldn’t look good if a career criminal was walking into a police precinct to bail his girlfriend out of jail. You would have blown his cover.”

“Well, it would be nice if he didn’t spend so much time under cover, and more time paying attention to the other things in his life?” she sighed heavily. “His friends, his family, his girlfriend—you know, the little things.”

He rolled his eyes a little before shaking his head. “Free man he may be, but he’s still Mikey. That’s never gonna change.”

She was silent for a minute, the road passing them by as they went. After a long minute she sighed, before stating as simply as possible. “Sad part is, you think I’d be used to it by now.”

Sam just looked back at her with a bit of a smirk before nodding. “Don’t worry, Fi. You aren’t the only one.”

465 words