Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

fic - orphan

Title: orphan

Author: Bodge

Characters: Sam and Kate

Rating: PG I guess (there is some swearing and a shooting)

 Summary: Sam gets tested and a pet (maybe)

Author’s notes: Part of the “Ten Years gone”.  One of the few things that DID NOT happen to me this lambing season.  Although we lost our prized lamb and we had to put a ram down last year – this is how you do it with sheep.  I guess I’m reveling in the end of the season.  It’s been a bad season.  

Disclaimer: Sam Winchester isn’t mine, he belongs to any of a number of people all of whom aren’t me.

I look up as Kate comes in, strides across the living room and pulls the rifle down from its place of honor above the mantle.  She still has her mucky boots on and there is blood on her jeans and in her hair, everything about her face and posture says there is trouble.  And then there is the gun.  An old Winchester with all the scroll work and floral engravings, if it hadn’t been hanging there when I met her I would have thought it was a joke.  She never uses it, she says it’s a real cattlemen’s gun and it’s retired.


“Is everything OK?” I ask as she shoulders the gun and heads to the office and the gun cabinet that would have been her first stop if the problem was a dog or some kid that needs frightening. 


“Fucking peachy,” she says pocketing some ammo turning and storming past me.  I follow, pulled along in her wake.  It is what I do when she’s upset like this, follow until she can talk.  When she wants me not to follow she heads up the silo, where I won’t follow her.  I follow her into the sheep shed, a small barn that has probably held sheep since the beginning of time.  Kate keeps a small flock of sheep as pets essentially.  Mare says it has something to do with 4-H and a niche market for the dreadlock like wool the rare breed provides.  I know better, they are pets – Kate loves them. 


Inside, once my eyes have adjusted to the gloom, I can see what is wrong.  One of the small ewes is in a lambing pen, on the ground back end smeared with blood.  She’s flailing around and one of her legs is in an imposable position.  Kate hands me the gun, ammo and climbs the fence.


“Load,” she says simply, stepping over the ewe, on foot on each side of the sheep’s head.  She holds out her hand for the rifle.  I hand it to her, and turn to watch the other lambs and ewes.  After a grim pause she shoots, the other sheep go running.  The ewe is still.  She kicks the dead thing gently and as its head flops I realize it’s her favorite.   She hands me the Winchester back.  She climes over the fence and walks over to a cardboard box under a red light, “Can you hand me that?” she asks gesturing towards a bench against the wall.  I see a bottle and I get it for her. 


Inside the box is a little tiny lamb.  Kate takes the bottle and holds it for the lamb. 


“So…” I say, not knowing what to say really. 


“It’s a girl lamb,” she says, “We need to try to raise it.  I hate orphans.”




“Look obviously I don’t mean you.  And you aren’t an orphan anyway. Just because you had a crappie dad doesn’t mean he didn’t exist,” her voice is hard and dismissive.  I’ve seen her like this with others, but she’s never spoken to me that way.


“What do you need me to do?”


“Just hold this,” she hands me the bottle then positions my hand and the bottle so the lamb can drink, “I’ll deal with that.”


She goes back over the fence and heaves the ewe out.  My girlfriend can lift a full grown sheep, what have I gotten myself into? Then she heaves it into a wheelbarrow and wheels it out.  While she’s gone the lamb spits the bottle out.  I just crouch there on my heels and wait for her.


“Sorry,” I say when she comes back.


“Why?  You didn’t kill the lamb did you?”


“No,” I can hold a bottle still, a monkey could do it.


”Well then you don’t have anything to apologize for.  Shit happens Sam,” she’s giving me an appraising look.  I’m good at tests, I’m sure I’ll pass this one, even if shit like this doesn’t happen to me.  It’s not like I’ve ever had a pet to shoot. 


“Well, you liked that one.”


“Yeah and she’s dead now,” Kate shrugs, “things go on.  And she gave us a little girl first.  If we can keep her alive it’s not a total loss.”


I want to hug her, but I get the feeling that would be a failing score on this test, “So how often do we feed it?” I ask.


“Every four hours.  You don’t mind her in the living room?”


“Well… we aren’t the only ones that live in our house,” that seems like a safe answer.


“Laundry room then,” She smiles at me, “you’ll help me set her up?”


“Yeah,” I feel something nudge my arm.  I look down to see the lamb pushing against me, “what does she want?”


“More food,” Kate says, “And Sam?”




“She thinks you’re her Mommy.”




“That’s why she’s butting you.  Do you want to help me fed her?  She can be Sammy’s little lamb,” there is laughter in her voice.  I’m glad.


“Sure,” something else Dean can tease me about, “I’ve always wanted a pet.”


“It’s a sheep Sam.”


“Well they seem like they are pets to you.”


“A little I guess.  You want to get a dog?  You know for you and me.” She asks picking the little lamb up.


“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” I guess I passed my test. 


( 7 comments — Leave a comment )
May. 22nd, 2006 01:21 am (UTC)
“And Sam?”
“She thinks you’re her Mommy.”

this is awesome. really.

i love this series. seriously. :)
May. 22nd, 2006 01:26 am (UTC)
I wish they woudln't bounce around so much... and I have no idea when this took place.

The little lambs they look at you... it's just so hard to explane.
May. 22nd, 2006 01:37 am (UTC)
yeah, but the bouncing around is actually kinda cool. :)
May. 22nd, 2006 01:40 am (UTC)
there may need to be more Sammy's little lamb stories... he coudl take her to a show...LOL. Sam Winchester at a sheep show.
May. 22nd, 2006 01:45 am (UTC)
there's a scary visual place!!
May. 22nd, 2006 04:56 am (UTC)
*points* What she said.
May. 22nd, 2006 11:23 am (UTC)
I think Sammy's Little Lamb needs her own stories... I can see her following him around
( 7 comments — Leave a comment )