Paraskavedekatriaphobia: The fear of Friday the 13th.

Honestly, this has absolutely no connection to my last story. And, I have been trying for over a week to get this just right but every fic-bit I started ended up too long. I have cut a lot down from many of the bits, and they are written in many different styles -so I hope that it isn't too off-putting for anyone.

Sam wasn't superstitious. Really, he wasn't. But, at the same time, he couldn't help but notice some signs, omens, portents, what-have-you. And it was those things that made him dread today – today could only spell disaster. Not for him, of course, but for Dean. And there was a part of Sam that was completely, absolutely, positive that anything bad that happened to Dean today would be completely, absolutely, positively his fault.

For that reason, and possibly others that he was unaware of, he was currently making his big brother insane. Dean had no idea why Sam was so anxious and easy-to-spook today, but the constant edginess was causing Dean to feel uneasy. And Dean did not like to feel uneasy.

But, Sam couldn't allow that to stop him. After all, Sam had proof... well, memories, anyway. And to him, that was proof enough. Though he couldn't tell Dean – no, Dean would either become the placating and protective big brother or the teasing and tormenting big brother. It could really go either way. And Sam really didn't like either big brother personae.

So, he kept his memories about this horrible, terrible, no-good, very-bad day to himself.

oo0oo

1: June, 1986

Sam had only been four when the family moved into the Meyer Street Apartments and really could only remember his time there because of two things. The first was that their apartment, run-down though it may have been, sat across the street from the most wonderful park Sammy had ever laid eyes on in his whole, entire life.

The other thing he remembered about Meyer Street could further be divided by two distinct memories. The first being the large boy at the park telling Sammy that he had better be careful because when a beetle walks across your shoe (as one just had over the Velcro strap on Sam's left foot) it is an omen of death.

The second part of the second memory happened just before dinner that night. Sammy, having no idea what an omen was but having a fairly adequate concept of death for a four year old, told Daddy what had happened. He remembered Daddy patting his hair and telling him that there was nothing to worry about – only, then something unquestionably worth worry happened.

Baseball – window – CRACK – CRASH – SCREAM – glass – blood – Dean lying on the floor motionless

Too much happened too quickly for Sammy's four-year-old brain to comprehend. One moment, he was being reassured by Daddy and the next he was blindly following the man as he scooped up a bleeding and unmoving Dean and carrying him to the car. In a flash, Sammy was sitting in a waiting room on Daddy's lap while the man held him tightly and rocked slightly, anxiety causing his complete inability to be still.

Dean ended up being OK. After all, it wasn't the first time he had been to an emergency room, or had stitches or even been knocked unconscious. But Sammy knew, somehow remembered, that Dean had just walked between the kitchen window and his little brother when the baseball came crashing through. And, thinking about it later, Sam realized that the ball would have hit him straight in the face and done a lot more damage to a four-year-old than an eight-year-old (with a pretty hard head). It was then that Sammy realized that the baseball had been meant for him, and Dean had saved his life.

2: October, 1989

Just over a month ago, Sam would have said that seven was the best age to be. Now, however, he was having his doubts. He had been so excited to finally start school (as pre-school and kindergarten were not part of the Winchester curriculum) but now he was feeling differently. Everything he said and everything he did was apparently wrong. Sure, Miss Carol (the teacher) seemed to like him well enough, but the other kids were cruel. He had no friends and, worse, Dean's classroom was on one end of the second floor while Sam's was on the opposite end of the first, ensuring that they would never 'accidentally' run into each other in the halls.

Near the end of the school day, all of the kids in Sam's class were stirred up because the teacher told them that they were going to have a fire drill. They were waiting patiently at their desks, waiting for the fire alarm to begin its signal, when Sam found breathing to be more and more difficult. Fire had taken his mom – he might not remember it (or her), but he knew that fire was something to fear. And the more he thought about the alarm, as the seconds ticked by and his classmates murmured with excitement, the more scared Sam became and he realized that he needed to find his brother. Now!

But, before Sam could move, the alarm sounded and the students were told to line up in an orderly fashion. It was impossible to rush from the room with his classmates in the way, but once Sam was out the door, he began running and yelling for Dean. The halls were packed with bodies moving in one direction and Sam was a very small fish trying to swim upstream. He looked around frantic for an opening and found it – under the custodian's ladder that had been left propped against the wall.

Sam ran under the ladder and was about to try and squeeze through a group of older girls when a teacher caught him by the back of the collar and escorted him out of the building – but not before Sam let out one more desperate yell for his brother.

Sam was sitting on a parking block next to Miss Carol, trying to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, when the school nurse walked up telling the teacher that Sam's older brother was in her office – as he had evidently lost concentration during the fire drill, missed a step, and proceeded to fall down the concrete stairwell resulting in a myriad of painful looking bruises.

3: December, 1991

It was Friday afternoon and Sam was sitting on the steps in front of his grade school building, waiting for his brother. He honestly felt that nine was perfectly old enough to walk the few blocks home on his own, but as usual Dad didn't see it that way. But, at least if he had to wait, he didn't have to do so alone as one of the school buses was running behind and a dozen or more kids were lined up and waiting for their ride.

Sam got up from his place on the step to look down the sidewalk – for possibly the hundredth time! - in the hopes of seeing his brother. He was just about at the sidewalk when a quick little ball of fur with long ears ran practically under his foot. Very proud of himself for not yelping or jumping miles in the air, Sam resumed his look-out. That's when one of the waiting kids, an older boy who would therefore know everything, loudly told Sam not to come any closer to him because a hare crossing your path is an omen of disaster.

Soon, all the kids in line were either talking of the possible destruction that was waiting for him or arguing about the validity of the superstition – many discussions involving which animal is actually bad luck, if color matters, and whether time of day affects anything. Right about now, Sam hated his brother. Hated him for being late, which made him wait, which caused the kids to start talking about him, which was too much for Sam – it was all he could do to keep the tears from falling. He started to walk away so that the bus kids wouldn't see but as he began crossing the street when the kids started yelling to him – which made his eyes threaten even more tears. Then...

HORN – shove – SCREAMS – SCREECH – THUD – THUMP – Thump – thump – CALL 911!

Sam looked up from the ground where he had lost his footing. There, near where Sam had just been standing, was his big brother, lying on his back, right leg at an angel that any leg should never be in, eyes open wide, teeth clenched, breathing hard. Sam crawled over towards Dean and looked down at him. The tears were now beyond holding back, one even splashing against Dean's cheek. But, Dean looked up at his little brother and smiled and told him that he was fine, would be fine... but that Dad was going to be pissed.

4: March, 1992

The weather had gotten warmer, Dean had recently gotten the cast off of his leg, and Dad had gotten a solid lead on the spirit he was tracking. All-in-all, the day was shaping up quite nicely. Sam was nearly finished with his classes for the day and was looking forward to the evening's events. Dad had told him that he could camp out in Joey's backyard with some of the other boys in his class while he and Dean finished off the ghost of Jebediah Arkly – miser, monster, and local baddie who had been terrorizing the town since his death in 1936.

Sam felt like such a normal kid when he hopped into Joey's Mom's minivan after school – even more so when Joey's Dad helped the boys put up the tent in the backyard and set up their campfire for the hot dog and s'mores feast they would be having.

After each of the five boys had had their fill of hot dogs, they started on the marshmallows and decided to tell ghost stories. Sam went first and told them a scary tale involving the spirit of a little girl who spent each new moon searching for her lost locket – and though he left out the part about his dad finding her remains and the locket and giving her a proper burial to put her spirit to rest, the boys still agreed that it was the best story they had ever heard.

Before Joey began the next story, the tale of Jebediah Arkly, he asked Sam to grab the bag of marshmallows that was sitting on a table behind his friend. Sam reached out and bumped the rickety table, knocking over the bottles of mustard and ketchup and the shakers of salt and pepper. Luke, one of the other boys, told Sam that it was bad luck to spill salt or pepper, and doubly bad if they were both knocked over at once – to which Joey told them that all Sam had to do to reverse the bad luck was to throw some of the salt over his left shoulder.

Sam took some of the salt and tossed it behind him, and everything went back to being normal and fun again – except for Sam's nagging suspicion that something bad was going to happen. The worry was enough to keep Sam awake most of the night, and by morning, he was almost shaking – which he told the other boys was due to all the sugar from the s'mores.

The boys were eating breakfast at the kitchen table when the phone rang. Joey's mom came into the room shortly after and told Sam that he would be staying with them for the afternoon. Joey was ecstatic, but Sam new something was wrong. As the other boys left, Sam asked Joey's mom why he was staying. She gave him a sweet, but pitying, smile and told him that his brother had been in an accident last night and had to be taken to the emergency room. But don't worry, she told him, he'll be just fine.

5: August, 1993

Summer – in Florida – in a motel with no working air conditioner and windows that wouldn't open – Sam couldn't think of anything less pleasant. Really, the temperature was not too bad outside – it was the humidity. It was the sort of day that left you soaked with sweat during a simple walk to the newspaper box at the end of the sidewalk – even when the trip was made in the shade of the motel awning!

All three of the Winchesters were in fowl moods for various reasons. John was upset because his current hunt seemed to be going nowhere fast; Sam was cranky because he had come to the conclusion that everything about his life sucked; Dean was getting jittery because he was running out of things to do and he had never been comfortable with staying stationary for too long. It was a sign of how bad things had gotten when Dean, yes Dean, offered to go to the library and research their hunt further to try and find a lead. John made some comment under his breath about if I can't find anything, what makes you think you can – but when Dean offered to take Sam, Sam who had been consistently arguing with John about anything and everything, John gave the go ahead and basked in the quiet of their absence.

The library was stuffy with its too-small air conditioner trying its hardest to cool the too-big area, but to Sam and Dean it felt like paradise after the motel room. Strangely enough, Dean suggested that they actually do some research – Sam had assumed it was just an excuse to get out of the confines of their motel. But, Dean explained that, the sooner they get this hunt over with, the sooner they could get out of Dodge and hopefully go up north to a state where the temperature wouldn't get into triple digits. Sam couldn't exactly fight that logic, so instead he expounded on the plan and suggested they split up.

Sam went in search of the mythology section when something flew into the window he was walking past. He cautiously walked over to it as an old librarian came over to ask why he was banging on the window. But, as she followed Sam's eyes out the window to the ground, she shuddered. On the ground was a dead crow, neck broken after flying into the thick glass. She quoted some old Cherokee saying about a single crow bringing sorrow and scurried away.

Sam didn't think much about her cryptic words until he and Dean returned to the motel. It was as if the bad feelings were put on pause and started up again once they got back, and soon Sam and John were arguing once more. Dean, tired of the constant bickering and being ignored when he tried to put a stop to it, decided to take some action and fix their air conditioner. There wasn't much else he could do so why not at least try and cool things down a bit.

However, as Dean unscrewed the last screw of the front panel, the panel and several small brown-grey creatures with thickset pincer-like hands scampered out of the air conditioner. John and Sam stood frozen to the spot for a moment, surprised at what they were seeing, until Dean (who was trapped under the panel) cried out in pain as one of the claws tore into his shoulder.

6: May, 1994

Sam thought it was strange that he was more upset than his brother at the thought of Dean having to miss out on a school dance to join their father on a hunt. After all, it wasn't as if the kobolds couldn't be dealt with on a Saturday night instead of Friday. The had found the cave where the little monsters lived – the creatures weren't likely to move out even if they did somehow know that the Winchesters were planning to dispose of them. But, John had insisted.

It was just after dinner when they began packing their supplies – plenty of fusees to immobilize the quick little goblins and buckshot covered in silver, as pure silver wasn't necessary so why waste the money, to kill them. They were about to head for the car when Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and knocked one of the unattractive landscape portraits from the motel wall, which hit the floor and shattered the (surprisingly) glass front. John grumbled something about costing them extra money in damages and how Sam needed to be more careful. Dean was the one who came over to make sure Sam hadn't been cut by any of the glass, telling him that he would clean it up later and the motel wouldn't even know the difference.

They reached the caves quickly and quietly entered through the half boarded up opening. John had gone over the plan – again! - in the car and so, at the first fork, they split up – John going to the left; Dean and Sam going to the right. Sam stayed close to his brother, already feeling lost and disoriented, and really envious of the way Dean was able to mentally mark their path.

Sam didn't know how long they had been in the cave or how far they had gone, but he was suddenly hit with the inexplicable feeling that they were being watched. He kept his eyes trained, strained, to see movement or the glowing of the kolbolds' eyes but there was nothing – nothing accept for the goosebumps on his arms and the sudden cold he felt in the pit of his stomach. Then, he heard a little rumble – loose dirt and small pebbles sliding down rock walls – low, gravelly laughter – Sam!

Dean pushed Sam out of the way as large rocks came crashing down on the spot he had just been standing. Soon, Sam was looking at a newly-formed wall rather than his brother. Panicking, Sam called out to Dean, who weakly answered back that he was stuck and to find Dad, giving Sam directions on how to get back to John.

Sam was eventually able to find his father and the two of them took out all of the kobolds they found. Unfortunately, the little monsters were easier to find than Dean, as Sam could not remember how to get back to his brother. It took them several hours to find Dean, and then over another hour to remove the rock wall. It was slow-going to the cave's entrance but Sam tried to make himself feel better, useful, by serving as a human crutch for his older brother with a badly sprained ankle.

7: January, 1995

Another winter morning in another gloomy town and thirteen-year-old Sam was in a bad mood. The bad mood had persisted for days, all week in fact, and today, Friday, was no different. All week, Dean had been trying to cheer the kid up, but nothing worked – not the lack of snow (hey, no snow days Sammy – and you like school!), not the good grades he was receiving (wow! another A – that's great Sam!), not even the fact that they were in a slightly nicer house than usual (your own room, Sammy – you've always wanted your own room!). Nothing could bring Sam out of his funk. And worst of all, Sam didn't know the reason for the mood.

He did feel a little bad at his rotten attitude. After all, he felt like Dean should be the moody one right now – what with John gone on a hunt (without taking along his second-in-command) and Dean unable to practice for his up-coming driving test (not that he really needed it, as he had had a fake license for more than a year for those 'just in case' times). But, Sam couldn't shake it.

'Morning Sunshine! Dean called out to him as he entered Sam's room to wake him up for school. Sam grumbled and rolled over, away from his brother (only to get smacked in the face with bright sunshine coming through his window), as Dean told him that he had made Sam's favorite for breakfast. Arg! Sam didn't deserve this – didn't deserve all of Dean's efforts to make him feel better. He crawled out of bed...

Well, there's the problem, Sammy. Dean told him, only marginally serious, but without real ridicule. You're getting out on the wrong side of the bed. At Sam's tired 'huh?', Dean continued. You're supposed to get out of bed on the same side that you got in or you're bound to have bad luck, Sammy.

Sam was too groggy and grumpy to put up with Dean's cheerfulness so he grumbled and left the room, while asking Dean to please, stop calling me Sammy!

Sure thing, Dean said as Sam bumped into him on the way to the kitchen, Shorty.

oo0oo

note: Dean proceeded to call Sam 'Shorty' for over a year, until Sam hit growth spurt after growth spurt after his fourteenth birthday. Before Sam was fifteen, he had almost matched Dean's height – and Dean went back to calling him 'Sammy'. By sixteen, Sam had become taller (much taller) than Dean, who had stopped growing by the time he was sixteen (four years earlier).

8: February, 1998

OK, Dean said, so here's the plan. I'll run interference with Dad and you go and find something nice for his birthday. Nice and useful. Something he'll like...

I've got it, Dean! Sam said as he took the money from his brother's hand. Dean, his brother who showed little to no emotion and refused to get sentimental about anything, was acting almost girlie (though Sam would never say that to him) at John's up-coming 40th birthday.

The plan was that, on his way home from school, Sam would stop and pick up something for John – something that Dean apparently felt he was unable to pick out, and not just because he worked with Dad and his absence would be suspicious, but Dean felt he lacked the necessary skills to get something 'just right'. Dean assured him (many times!) that Sam's ability to do just that was a good thing, honestly, no joke, and something he was... well, he would never come right out and say he was jealous of Sam for anything.

So, on the way home from school, Sam stopped by a local pawn shop and looked around for a gift that was 'just right'. His first thought was something silver – the Winchesters could always use silver and he knew John would appreciate it; but Sam had serious doubts that the 'silver' items he saw were real silver. Though at fifteen Dean would have been able to purchase a weapon with a fake ID and his trademark confidence, Sam had a baby face and was far too nervous to pull it off. So, that left him with finding some rare object – whose worth was probably not even known to the pawn shop owner.

He was walking through the aisles, scanning the shelves and tables, when something caught his eye. It couldn't be. He leaned in closer for another look...

Hey kid, the shop owner called out, don't you know its back luck to rock an empty rockin' chair?

Not for me, Sam thought as he apologized and stilled the chair. On a dust-covered shelf almost hidden from plain view, was a volume that Sam had only ever heard of. Stuck between a first edition "Nancy Drew and the Secret of the Old Clock" and a box full of plastic-wrapped Archie comics, was "The Greater Key of Solomon". It wasn't an original 15th century Greek text, but it was definitely from the 16th or 17th century.

Sam scooped up the box of Archie comics and put the ragged old grimoire on top. How much for these? He asked the shop owner. The greasy old man took a look at Sam's selection. 50 bucks. Sam looked at the stack and took the book away, asking now how much? $45 – hey, kid (the guy said to Sam's look of dismay) these are originals.

Sam heaved a deep sigh and then pushed the comics aside and placed the book on the counter once more. OK, I'll take this for the $5. No one could ever accused him of not learning a thing or two from his brother. His triumphant mood was dashed, however, when he got home and listened to the one message on the answering machine. It was John's shaky (shaky? Dad?) voice telling him:

Sammy, we had a little accident at the garage. Dean's OK! But, he has a concussion. I'll be home a little late tonight.

9: August, 1999

Sam was walking home from the library. He had volunteered to go and research the black dog that the Winchesters were in town hunting for. So far, they had only heard stories – hadn't seen any actual evidence. But, John was convinced that his contact had been correct and so they remained.

Sam had been trying, honestly he had, not to fight with Dad. And, to give the man some credit, he had the feeling that Dad was trying too. They had been at each other's throats more recently than ever before and finally realized that it was Dean who was suffering for it when the middle Winchester collapsed during an easy hunt due to exhaustion from having not slept nor eaten (and, no, coffee did not count as a meal) in days.

However, Dean was never one who enjoyed when people walked around on eggshells around/for him – and so, as a compromise, Sam and John had been spending as much time apart as possible. After all, its harder to argue and fight when not around one another... right?

So, Sam was walking home from the library when he began to feel he was being watched. It wasn't a hair standing on end sort of feeling – more like a non-threatening, but still disconcerting feeling. So, he turned around to find... no one. He looked all around, then finally looked down – and saw a dog, no a poodle, no a black and fluffy poodle with a pink faux-diamond-studded collar and matching pink ribbon on its tail. Sam began walking again, but quickly stopped and turned around – to find the poodle was actually following him.

Laughing to himself, (and hoping for the poodle's sake that it was female) he kept walking. He didn't really care that this strange dog was following him – he had larger and more vicious black dogs on his mind. However, when he got home, he found an empty apartment – save for the note from Dean which explained that John had gone to meet his contact and Dean had gone to play pool.

Knowing that there was only one bar within walking distance (and having seen the Impala still in the driveway), Sam grabbed his brother's keys and went in search of Dean. The drive took mere moments, which Sam was thankful for as, when he reached the bar, he could tell that there was trouble. He barely shut the car door before he ran into the bar and found a foursome of large bikers trying to tear his brother limb from limb. While Dean may have been able to fend for himself on a normal day, he was still recovering from his recent exhaustion and dehydration.

Before Sam was able to join the brawl, he (and everyone in the bar) heard sirens in the distance – coming closer and closer (as the bartender had threatened). Sam took the distraction as a good omen, grabbed a half-conscious Dean, hauled his brother from the bar and practically threw him into the car, and sped off just as the police were coming into the parking lot from the opposite side.

10: April, 2001

Has Sam ever mentioned that he hated hunting? Actually, 'hate' is not strong enough – he detests, loathes, abhors it. Oh yeah, that's right – perfect 800 in critical reading... almost the same in Math and Writing... but apparently, a nearly-perfect SAT score means nothing to John Winchester.

Sorry. What was he saying? Oh right, Sam hates hunting. However, what's he doing on a wonderful Friday evening in April? What? Are you saying that all 18-year-olds are not sitting in a cold and damp field with their old brothers, waiting for a mythological cat with two tails and the ability to raise the dead with a wave of a paw (yeah, paw!) at the request of their fathers? Hmm...

So, its called a nekomata – let's put aside for a moment the fact that this is a Japanese mythological creature and they are currently in Minnesota... Let's also put aside that this is the absolute stupidest thing Sam has ever done – which actually says quite a bit. Let's actually focus on the fact that Dean, his father-hero-worshiping, WWJWD (yes, 'what would John Winchester do?') brother is taking this seriously. Really seriously. And Sam can't believe there was a time that he actually thought his brother knew everything.

Needless to say, Sam is not taking this hunt seriously. In fact, he is quite plainly ridiculing every little thing about this hunt – from the idea of the nekomata, to his father's (and, therefore, brother's) belief in the creature. He can't help but make sarcastic comments on the whole thing, all night long.

Hey Dean, he says, is that it? He points to a white cat sitting in a tree about twenty feet from them, staring at them. To his credit, Dean has not yelled at, hit, or threatened Sam. Sam's beginning to think there is something wrong with Dean.

When nothing has happened by morning and John calls them to tell them that he thinks the whole hunt is a bust, Sam scoffs but Dean simply gets up and walks to the car. He unlocks the door but then hesitates, and finally asks Sam to drive. Now Sam knows there's something wrong with Dean.

By the time they reach the motel, Dean is shivering and coughing... coughing up blood as it turns out. Sam runs to the motel room and demands John come with him to take Dean to the emergency room. John says 'no' but then follows when Sam threatens to go without him.

So, pneumonia. Dean has pneumonia. His temperature is too high and his blood pressure too low – and yet he apologizes to John in near-delirium for not finding 'the cat'. Yeah, Sam has got to get away from these people.

11: May, 2005

"Sam!" Jessica yells at him with no real malice. "You can't open that umbrella inside."

"Why not? It's raining."

"Yes, but it's bad luck to open an umbrella inside the house. You have to wait until you're outside."

"First of all," he tells her with a smile that shows his dimples, "this is an apartment, not a house – so the rules are probably different. Second, there is no porch or awning out there. If I wait to open the umbrella outside, I will already be wet."

"So, bad luck doesn't bother you?"

"Jess, bad luck has never affected me."

12: January, 2006

Sam had only been traveling with Dean (again) for a couple months. From the bits of stories that Dean had told him about their time apart, Sam had finally realized something. Dean, big brother extraordinaire, has always been there to save him. Yes, Sam has also watched his brother's back from time to time, but this is different. Dean, whether physically there or just there in memory, has always saved Sam.

He found out, not from Dean but from John's journal, that in May of '05 Dean was seriously injured on a hunt. Since Dean wouldn't talk about it (and John didn't give any details), Sam had only his own mind to fill in the blanks. And somewhere in that card catalog he called a brain, he finally realized – Friday the 13th, the most unlucky day of the year, Sam always came across some unlucky superstition/omen/old wives' tale, but it was always Dean who suffered for it. Dean was always there to take the bad luck for him.

So, when he saw the funeral procession slowly heading south as they were heading north, Sam was suddenly very glad that they had faced and defeated Bloody Mary (and in the process smashed enough mirrors for a lifetime of bad luck) over a month ago.

13: October, 2006

He knows that he's making his big brother crazy – he really does. And yet, at the same time, he can't bring himself to care. Its not that he doesn't care about his brother's sanity or that he is intentionally trying to torment, its that Sam can not risk letting Dean out of his sight. Today, of all days, Sam doesn't want to take any chances.

He knows all of the silly old superstitions and is being careful not to do anything that will cause bad luck. Not that he is superstitious, its just that he would rather err on the side of caution. Sam knows from past experiences that Friday the 13th is not something to take lightly – and he cares too much for his brother's health and well-being to take any chances.

Author's Note: So, I have actually kept the bits and pieces that I cut from many of the little stories here. And many of the ones that I wrote that were short enough do have story outlines behind them. I would love to hear from people - should I continue on with each little fic-bit as a full-length chapter/story? If I get enough responses telling me to do so, I will continue. Otherwise, I won't bother. Its up to you!