BEFORE YOU READ THIS! Go read Mousme's Fusion 'verse. The first twenty or so stories are posted over here, but there are quite a few more over on her LJ, Ratherastory. They are fantastic and beautiful and ughhh I fangirl over them more than the freaking show itself. While you're over there, give her other stuff a looksee and lavish praise upon her.

Now. This thing has been sitting on my computer for roughly three weeks as I tried to work up the nerve to post it, since I've never written a fanfic of a fanfic before, so this is pretty new for me. I don't own anyone or anything you see here; but I do hope you all enjoy my little addition to this famulous 'verse.

It's easy to forget, sometimes, that Sam wasn't always like this. That he used to be a soldier, someone capable of doing things that make Sophie's guts twist. He's so sweet now, quiet and mostly harmless, and except for the times when his eyes go dark or she catches a glimpse of his scars, she can almost pretend that he's spent his whole life the way he is now.

And then other times...

It's one of Sam's good days, that much is obvious from the way he and Dean are laughing and teasing each other when they came in, Perry trotting happily next to Dean with her tongue lolling. If Sophie hadn't been sure, then the way Dean grabs her from behind the counter and sweeps her around the room in an impromptu waltz pretty much confirms it.

She laughs and spins away from him. "Wow. Good morning to you, too. Did I miss something?"

Sam and Dean grin at each other. "We're rich," Dean declares. "Filthy, stinkin' rich."

"Oh?"

Sam grins. "One of the guys I do a lot of translating for paid me a little extra for the last job. I just got the email this morning."

Sophie smiles. "How much is a little extra?"

"Three times more than usual?"

"Three and a half," Dean adds smugly. Sophie grins.

"So what I'm hearing is, if I want some of this money, I should really be dancing with Sam."

"No!" Dean declares, wrapping his arms around her and teasingly shielding her from his laughing brother. "You're all mine!"

"If you're trying to get a raise," Sophie wheezes, having difficulty breathing between her laughter and Dean's ridiculously tight grip, "this is not the way to go about it."

"Fine. Spoilsport. But anyways, Sam's probably just gonna hang around all day and gloat."

"As well he should," Sophie says, finally wriggling free and brushing her hair out of her face. "You're a closet dork, you know that?"

The man grins unrepentantly at her.

Several hours later, after a surprisingly busy morning, Sophie decisively flips the sign on the door so that it reads 'CLOSED.' "I think since you two are now multi-billionaires - or close enough, anyways - that you should most definitely pay for lunch."

"Agreed!" Dean declares. "Sammy! Go fetch us some lunch!"

Sam sniffs haughtily and sticks his nose in the air, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm rich, Dean, I have people to do that sort of thing for me. Go forth, slave, and return with food."

Dean points threateningly at him. "Only because I'm in a good mood, princess. Don't expect this to be come a regular thing. Come on, Perry."

The man and dog walk out to head across down the street to the small café, and Sam grins at Sophie. She can't help but laugh at the look of childish excitement on his face.

"Dean actually did something I told him to without arguing. I could die happy now."

"I'm sure you could," she says fondly. "Hey, I think there's some paper plates in the backroom. You wanna go grab those?"

"Yeah, sure. Be right back." He smiles and traipses off, humming to himself, and Sophie stands there sort of like an idiot feeling rather blissful.

The door opens. "Oh, sorry," she says brightly, turning to face the man, "but we're closed. If you want to come back in a half an hour or... so..."

He's pointing a gun at her head. "I don't want any trouble, okay?" he says nervously, readjusting his grip on the weapon. "I just want some money. That's it." He swallows and his face hardens. "All your money."

Sophie's heart is pounding in her ears, and she makes herself keep breathing evenly, holding up her hands. "All right." Her voice comes out embarrassingly high and squeaky, but it's not like she gets a gun pointed at her head very often. She clears her throat and tries again. "I'll just... go behind the counter and get it, okay?"

The guy's tongue darts out to wet his lips. He looks shaky, strung out, and like he's about to snap. Which would be a very, very bad thing. Sophie just needs to stay calm, and it's not like there's a lot in the registers anyway. Just as long as-

"Hey, Soph, is there someone there?" Sam asks, coming in from the backroom. "I heard-"

He stops abruptly, and Sophie feels another jolt of terror. Sam freaks out over the sound of doors slamming or someone accidentally bumping into him in the street. A guy with a gun pointed at him... Because it is; the man's swung the weapon around to point it at Sam's chest.

"I think you should put that down now," Sam says, voice as calm and soothing as she's ever heard.

"Sam," Sophie says weakly. "Maybe we should just-"

"I've got this, Soph. You just sit tight, all right?" He smiles with all his teeth and turns his attention back to the man with the gun. "There're better ways to get drug money."

"I'm not an addict," the guy says loudly. "I just need some cash."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, to buy drugs. I know what addiction looks like. Look, I can help you, okay? You just have to- Don't point that at her!"

Sophie's never entirely sure what happens after that.

The gun goes off and plaster rains down on her; she screams and covers her head, and Sam... Sam just goes off.

She hears the guy yelling, but Sam is silent. The gun goes off again and one of the shelves rocks, books falling to the floor. There's the sound of a fist meeting flesh, a loud thud, and then silence. After a few seconds, Sophie cautiously straightens, heart still pounding and breath coming in quick gasps.

The man is on the floor, and Sam stands above him, back straight and one foot planted on the guy's throat, the gun pointed at his face. His expression is dark and cold and twisted, and for the first time, Sophie is afraid of Sam Winchester.

Until he looks at her, eyes widening.

"Sam?" she asks apprehensively.

He drops the gun and staggers back. "S-Sophie- oh God- I didn't-" He rubs his knuckles almost violently, eyes darting around the room. "Y-you... okay? You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says cautiously, perversely glad that she has Sam on hand to distract her from her own terror. She feels weak-kneed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not bad," he blurts out. "I didn't like it, I promise, didn't want to. You know, right? I didn't?"

"Yeah, Sam," she assures him, taking a few careful steps forward. "I know. You just did what you had to." She has a feeling that they're not just talking about the robber.

He nods frantically. The door suddenly bursts open, and a wild-eyed Dean storms in. Sam jolts, automatically snatching the gun off the ground and swinging it around to point at Dean.

"Woah, Sammy," Dean says, dropping Perry's leash to hold his hands up. The dog whines but stays still. "Just me."

"Dean," Sam all but whimpers. "Dean?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's me," Dean says soothingly. "I heard the shots. What happened?"

"He shot at Sophie," Sam says in a small voice, slowly lowering the gun. "He wanted to hurt her. I had to, Dean, I did."

"I know," Dean says calmly. "No one's mad at you, Sammy. Sophie? You okay?" he asks, peering around his brother at her.

"Yeah," she says with a nervous laugh. "He hit the ceiling, not me."

His eyes flash dangerously and she remembers that he, too, was a soldier once upon a time. "The kid at the sandwich place called the cops; they should be here any minute. I'd've been here sooner, but my leg-"

Sam sobs suddenly. "Please," he says brokenly, dropping the gun and bring his hand up to cover his ears. "It's too loud, the light-"

Dean hurries forward, skirting around the unconscious man on the floor and stopping just long enough to pick up the gun and turn the safety on. One hand curls around the back of his brother's neck, the other gripping his shoulder.

"Hey, Sammy, I need you to focus for me," he says soothingly. "Just listen to my voice. Focus on that, yeah?"

Sam sniffs. "Can... can we go h-home? Please? I want to... Dean?"

"Right here. And we'll go home soon, okay? You're just gonna have to tell the cops what happened, that's all. Then we'll go straight home, I promise."

Sam's breath hitches, and from little Sophie can see of his face, he looks like Dean just asked him to scale Mt. Everest. But he closes his eyes and nods.

Before the sheriff arrives five minutes later, Dean has handcuffed the robber with a pair of zip ties from the basement, unloaded the gun, and made tea for Sam and Sophie. They're both fairly useless at the moment, huddled together on the floor in front of the counter with Perry lying in between them, all watching Dean work.

Sam still sniffles occasionally, and Sophie feels rather near tears herself. She's never been shot at before, especially not by a drug addict robbing her store.
She jumps when Dean suddenly appears, draping his jacket around her shoulders.

"Sorry," he apologizes quickly. "You just look a little shocky."

"I'm okay," she says faintly. "Just, um..."

"Shocky?"

"Shocky."

Someone knocks on the door, and all four of them - Perry included - flinch.

"Just the sheriff," Dean says with a relieved smile, going to unlock the door. "Hey, thanks for getting here so fast..."

While he talks explains what happened, Sophie turns to Sam, who has been silent for the past few minutes, staring forlornly at his tea. "Hey," she says softly.

"Hey," he mumbles back, and she smiles.

"You doin' okay?"

"Uh huh. I'm sorry I scared you."

"You didn't scare me."

"Yes, I did," he says flatly. "You were scared. And it was my fault."

"No, it was the fault of that guy over there," she says, nodding to the man the deputy is currently trying to rouse. "You know, the one who would have killed me if you hadn't been here? That guy? The one you saved me from? You remember this?"

Sam shakes his head, lips pressed firmly together. Sophie softens. "Sam. I just... Thank you. Really."

He swallows and looks at her out of the corner of his eye, one side of his mouth just barely quirking up. "You're welcome."