The Call
Title: The Call
Genre: Supernatural
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language
Spoilers: Pilot episode.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
********
The phone rang and Sam glared. And glared. And glared. It had been ringing off and on for the last half hour. Ringing and ringing and ringing. And if Dean didn’t answer it soon, he was going to face a whole world of trouble. Namely, Sam was going to beat him until he was bloody, broken, and screaming like a little girl.
“Dean.”
Normally, the sweet, dulcet drone of the cell phone wouldn’t have inspired homicide, but it was a special case. Dean had programmed the caller, had fixed it with a very distinct melody. The digital version of “Everything I Do I Do It For You” wasn’t pleasant, more kick you in the groin and leave you gasping on the floor painful. Sam’s own personal torture. Hadn’t that song been banned in like forty-eight states?
Come to think of it… Why the hell was it playing on Dean’s phone? Dean-the guy who still thought belching the alphabet and pissing his name in the snow was funny. Dean-the guy who still thought hair bands were cool. Dean-the guy with testosterone to spare.
“Dean.”
Sam punctuated his brother’s name with a shoe. The boot flew through the air, landing solidly in the center of his stomach. Dean’s lips parted, a disgruntled oof spilling from his lips. It was a satisfying sort of sound, one that warmed Sam to the very tips of his toes. He didn’t even mind the murderous glare or quickly reddening cheeks that signified his imminent death. No, Dean was awake, so Sam didn’t mind at all.
“Sam-“
It was easy to note the second the incessant ringing registered with Dean. His face smoothed, eyes widening, lips twitching with… What was that? Could it…? No. Happiness?
Strange. The expression on Dean was almost…scary.
Dean’s body launched across the bed, and he snagged the cell lying on the nightstand. A quick flurry of movement and the phone was pressed to his ear, a burst of laughter fleeing his lips.
“About time. Everything okay?”
Eyebrow quirking, Sam stared gape-mouthed at his brother. The change was obvious-muscles relaxed, a lightness in Dean’s voice. Giddy. Carefree. His guard was down, completely. Sam couldn’t think of a time-ever-where Dean seemed so, so unburdened.
“No. I’m fine. Everything’s good.”
Walking, from the edge of his bed to the door, back. Dean’s feet moved in a constant circuit, bouncing across the worn carpet. Bouncing. He was bouncing.
Who the fuck was on the phone? Some mind bending witch/demon thing? Not their dad, even Dean wasn’t sick enough to program a Bryan Adams’s song for his particular ring. No, it’d probably be something along the lines of “Hail to the Chief.”
“Sam’s here. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yes. He’ll come with me.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, disliking how casually he was mentioned in the conversation. The person on the other end knew him, or, rather, about him. And he had no clue who they were. His hackles rose, hair prickling along his arms, his neck.
“No. No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it when we get there. Me too.”
The phone folded closed with a click and Dean tossed it to the bed. When he turned to Sam, his eyes were sad, happy, excited, scared. It was an entire gamut of emotions Sam couldn’t even begin to process. What the hell was going on?
“Who-“
“Get dressed, Sammy.” Dean found his jeans, tugged them up over his hips. “We’ve got a lot of road to cover tonight.”
He didn’t budge, his face skewing into something unpleasant, something disagreeable. Sam was irritated. He was tired of all the secrets, of not knowing where they were headed, what exactly Dean was up to. Only a few days back, and Sam was right where he’d started. Angry, upset with the quality of his life, the unknowns, his father, his brother. It wasn’t going to be like last time. He wasn’t a kid any longer; he was going to make a stand.
“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”
Dean rolled his eyes and snorted. “And spoil the fun?”
Apparently, Dean wasn’t going to cooperate with Sam’s new desire for honesty. Deception was key to his brother’s life-deception and pussy. Surprising how the two went hand in hand.
“Fun?” Sam snapped his teeth together, grinding the fine porcelain. “You think this is fun? We’re supposed be tracking Dad down.”
The glee evaporated from Dean’s eyes and Sam felt as if the life had been sucked from him. It was heavy, Dean’s disappointment, the absence of his happiness. He hadn’t realized how much Dean emoted, how he wanted to see his brother genuinely cheerful. They’d had so few of those moments through the course of their lives. It was rare-the smile that had decorated Dean’s lips, rare and beautiful.
Dean frowned, blinking slowly. “It’s something I’ve got to do.”
Head tipping forward, Sam mumbled into his chest. “A job?”
“Something like that.”
********
It was a house: a non-descript house in a non-descript section of a non-descript Colorado mining town. Abandoned, of course, the mine, not the house. There was a car in the driveway, a freshly mown lawn, the steady purr of a house fan. The paint wasn’t fresh but it was well-tended, the windows clean and shining, the porch swept. Homey. Comforting. It was a place Sam could see himself settling into sometime in his life. If he ever got to settle down, chances were pretty slim.
“Dean, are you gonna-“
The car door slammed, Dean already striding across the lawn towards the door. Of course he was, it wasn’t like he could pause long enough to tell Sam what the hell was going on. Wouldn’t explain the near lightning speeds or the anxious twitching either. Yeah, Sam had noticed, hard not to-Dean had drummed his fingers on the steering wheel the entire nine hundred and fifty-six miles to…Bumfuck, Colorado. Unfair, but, damn it, Sam was part of the team. The team should know what the fuck was happening.
Dean was climbing the porch stairs by the time Sam caught up to him. His brother ignored him-or was unaware-too distracted by the key ring held in his hands. He skipped through the lot, finally extracting one from the bunch and sliding it into the keyhole. The lock snicked as it open, the handle turning, the door pressing in. Sam was too startled to question anything-namely that Dean had a key to some house in the middle of nowhere.
Sam’s boots rang loudly on the wooden floor as he stepped over the threshold, following his brother. The noise didn’t fill the house; it was already alive with motion, with sound, with energy. People lived there; he could feel it in the air, in his mind. People he didn’t know. A danger he had no way to gage. What the hell was Dean up to? He could’ve prepared him, told him what to expect. Sam was a little rusty, but not an idiot. The more he knew about a situation, the better prepared he could be.
A case of stairs jutted up to his right, a cozy living area to his left. Through a far doorway, Sam spotted a refrigerator, heard clattering pans. He squinted at a photo positioned on a mantle, not quite able to make out-
Two balls of limbs sprinted down the stairs, running towards them. Sam was instantly alert, fumbling with the back of his jack to withdraw the pistol-- No, the gun wasn’t there, Dean had taken it away. What the fuck had his brother been thinking? His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. The objects launched from the steps, flying towards Dean and his brother-
His brother snagged them from the air and pulled them to his chest. Dean snuggled his face into them, placing wet, smacking kisses on each of their cheeks. They giggled, wriggling in his brother’s arms. Sam squinted, clueless and a little discomforted. Scarier than random beasties. They were children. Not demons. Not some stunted flavor of troll. Not hellhounds. Just children.
“What the fu-“
“Dad, who’s that?”
That shut Sam up faster than the glistening black of Dean’s pupils. Twinkling, his brother’s eyes were twinkling, mischievous, ornery. Had the kid just said?
“Dad?”
“Honey. Just in time.”
Sam’s attention wrenched to the newcomer. Female: dark hair, wide smile, dark eyes, petite bordering on tiny. There was no mistaking the silver wedding band, the flour-stained apron, the swollen stomach.
“Dinner almost ready?” It was a husky rumble of sound, nearly a purr. She nodded and cocked her head to the side, smirking. “Come ‘ere.”
The woman stepped forward, into Dean, and Sam gawked, unable to do anything else. He watched, wholly unnerved as his brother’s hand curled in her hair, dragging her face to his, lips to lips. His other hand slipped down, rubbing slow circles over her round belly. He stared, transfixed, unable to look away.
Sam was in the fucking twilight zone. He’d stepped off the curb into crazy. He really, really needed a drink. Was this what a hallucination felt like?-cold sweats, inability to breathe, drowning?
“Who are you?”
He peered down into two sets of eyes, two identical sets of eyes. Twins. A boy. A girl. It had been the boy who had addressed him, tugging on his hand. There was no mistaking the curious twist of their mouths or the light brown of their hair. Sam had seen them before in a much larger scale.
“Idiot.” The girl shook her head and stuck out her tongue. “That’s Uncle Sam.”
“Uncle Sam?” Sam choked on the words. “Dean?”
“You okay, Sammy.” Dean smiled unconcernedly, truly enjoying the show. “You look like you’re gonna ralph.”
“No.” Sam shook his head, inhaled deeply. “I need to sit down. I think I hit my head or something.”
“Nah.” Dean punched his shoulder, the pain was immediate and piercing. “You’re doing fine.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
Dean glanced back at the woman and shrugged. “How was I supposed to do that? Say, gee, Sam, I know it’s been a few years and there’re a few things I’ve gotta tell you. I’m married, yup, got two kids, another on the way.” He paused, chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Yeah, actually, that woulda worked. Pretty simple, too, wonder why I didn’t-“
“You know why.” The woman poked Dean sharply in the ribs. “Cuz you’re a mean, sadistic bastard.” She gave Sam a sympathetic look and turned to the children. “Fox, go get your uncle some water. Dana, go with him.”
The room swam, lost focus. Sam stumbled a few steps and fell to his ass in the entryway. Dean and the woman edged closer, their faces bleary above him. He thought they might be talking to him, but he couldn’t hear above the roar in his ears.
“I need to lay down.”
His head collided with the floor. Stars burst in his vision. The world darkened to black.
*******
Sam’s eyes fluttered, drinking in the dim lighting, the figure hunched at the side of his bed. Dean. He was bent double, bowed over a tattered book. Tired. Weary. Thoroughly amused.
“’Bout time you woke up.” He closed the book, dropped it to the floor. “We were worried.”
“We?”
“Me. Liz. The kids.” Dean smirked. “You gonna faint again?”
He grimaced, shifting uncomfortably on…a mattress. At least they’d moved him to a more comfortable location. “I didn’t faint.”
“’Fraid you did.” A worried frown passed over Dean’s lips. “Think you might be concussed too.”
“I’m fine.” Sam sat up, leaning his weight into the wall. His head did ache a little. Probably because it was in overload. He was surprised it hadn’t exploded already. “You’re married?”
Dean grinned, unable to hide the gleam in his eyes. “Three years.”
“Does dad know?”
“Dad officiated.”
Stupid question. Dean wouldn’t do anything without his dad’s say so. Though that couldn’t really be right. Three years. The kids were at least five. Dean was a dad-shouldn’t hell have frozen over or something?
“He’s alright with them?”
The look on Dean’s face said everything. No, dad wasn’t okay. Interesting. Dean had disobeyed. For a woman. Sam was happy he hadn’t been around for that shit storm. No. That wasn’t true. His face tightened; he’d lost out on so much of his brother’s life. Dean had a family. Dean was a husband. Dean was a father.
Fuck. He missed out on an opportunity to be best man, to throw a stag party, to-
“She must be something.”
Wistful smile. Misty eyes. It was obvious-Dean loved her. “She’s everything.”
“And the kids?”
“Fox and Dana?” He shrugged, glanced towards the doorway. Dean turned back, eyes shining. “Unexpected. Winchester sperm is potent stuff.”
“Uh. Yeah.” Sam shivered. “Thanks for the imagery.”
“So you want to meet them?”
Sam’s lips pursed, his eyebrows narrowing. “I did.”
“Properly.” Something glinted in Dean’s gaze, something fragile, something hesitant. His brother was afraid Sam would disappoint him. Again. “Where it doesn’t end with you passed out on the floor.”
Sam closed his eyes, thought about the lying, the betrayal, the secrecy. In the end, it didn’t matter. Dean hadn’t told him for…whatever reason. They were still brothers. He had a niece and nephew. He had a sister. Finally, someone to complain to about Dean. It wouldn’t be all bad. In fact, it could be pretty damned good.
“Bring ‘em in.” Sam smiled, the action reaching all the way to his eyes. “I wanna meet the family.”
********
The End
Genre: Supernatural
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language
Spoilers: Pilot episode.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
********
The phone rang and Sam glared. And glared. And glared. It had been ringing off and on for the last half hour. Ringing and ringing and ringing. And if Dean didn’t answer it soon, he was going to face a whole world of trouble. Namely, Sam was going to beat him until he was bloody, broken, and screaming like a little girl.
“Dean.”
Normally, the sweet, dulcet drone of the cell phone wouldn’t have inspired homicide, but it was a special case. Dean had programmed the caller, had fixed it with a very distinct melody. The digital version of “Everything I Do I Do It For You” wasn’t pleasant, more kick you in the groin and leave you gasping on the floor painful. Sam’s own personal torture. Hadn’t that song been banned in like forty-eight states?
Come to think of it… Why the hell was it playing on Dean’s phone? Dean-the guy who still thought belching the alphabet and pissing his name in the snow was funny. Dean-the guy who still thought hair bands were cool. Dean-the guy with testosterone to spare.
“Dean.”
Sam punctuated his brother’s name with a shoe. The boot flew through the air, landing solidly in the center of his stomach. Dean’s lips parted, a disgruntled oof spilling from his lips. It was a satisfying sort of sound, one that warmed Sam to the very tips of his toes. He didn’t even mind the murderous glare or quickly reddening cheeks that signified his imminent death. No, Dean was awake, so Sam didn’t mind at all.
“Sam-“
It was easy to note the second the incessant ringing registered with Dean. His face smoothed, eyes widening, lips twitching with… What was that? Could it…? No. Happiness?
Strange. The expression on Dean was almost…scary.
Dean’s body launched across the bed, and he snagged the cell lying on the nightstand. A quick flurry of movement and the phone was pressed to his ear, a burst of laughter fleeing his lips.
“About time. Everything okay?”
Eyebrow quirking, Sam stared gape-mouthed at his brother. The change was obvious-muscles relaxed, a lightness in Dean’s voice. Giddy. Carefree. His guard was down, completely. Sam couldn’t think of a time-ever-where Dean seemed so, so unburdened.
“No. I’m fine. Everything’s good.”
Walking, from the edge of his bed to the door, back. Dean’s feet moved in a constant circuit, bouncing across the worn carpet. Bouncing. He was bouncing.
Who the fuck was on the phone? Some mind bending witch/demon thing? Not their dad, even Dean wasn’t sick enough to program a Bryan Adams’s song for his particular ring. No, it’d probably be something along the lines of “Hail to the Chief.”
“Sam’s here. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yes. He’ll come with me.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, disliking how casually he was mentioned in the conversation. The person on the other end knew him, or, rather, about him. And he had no clue who they were. His hackles rose, hair prickling along his arms, his neck.
“No. No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it when we get there. Me too.”
The phone folded closed with a click and Dean tossed it to the bed. When he turned to Sam, his eyes were sad, happy, excited, scared. It was an entire gamut of emotions Sam couldn’t even begin to process. What the hell was going on?
“Who-“
“Get dressed, Sammy.” Dean found his jeans, tugged them up over his hips. “We’ve got a lot of road to cover tonight.”
He didn’t budge, his face skewing into something unpleasant, something disagreeable. Sam was irritated. He was tired of all the secrets, of not knowing where they were headed, what exactly Dean was up to. Only a few days back, and Sam was right where he’d started. Angry, upset with the quality of his life, the unknowns, his father, his brother. It wasn’t going to be like last time. He wasn’t a kid any longer; he was going to make a stand.
“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”
Dean rolled his eyes and snorted. “And spoil the fun?”
Apparently, Dean wasn’t going to cooperate with Sam’s new desire for honesty. Deception was key to his brother’s life-deception and pussy. Surprising how the two went hand in hand.
“Fun?” Sam snapped his teeth together, grinding the fine porcelain. “You think this is fun? We’re supposed be tracking Dad down.”
The glee evaporated from Dean’s eyes and Sam felt as if the life had been sucked from him. It was heavy, Dean’s disappointment, the absence of his happiness. He hadn’t realized how much Dean emoted, how he wanted to see his brother genuinely cheerful. They’d had so few of those moments through the course of their lives. It was rare-the smile that had decorated Dean’s lips, rare and beautiful.
Dean frowned, blinking slowly. “It’s something I’ve got to do.”
Head tipping forward, Sam mumbled into his chest. “A job?”
“Something like that.”
********
It was a house: a non-descript house in a non-descript section of a non-descript Colorado mining town. Abandoned, of course, the mine, not the house. There was a car in the driveway, a freshly mown lawn, the steady purr of a house fan. The paint wasn’t fresh but it was well-tended, the windows clean and shining, the porch swept. Homey. Comforting. It was a place Sam could see himself settling into sometime in his life. If he ever got to settle down, chances were pretty slim.
“Dean, are you gonna-“
The car door slammed, Dean already striding across the lawn towards the door. Of course he was, it wasn’t like he could pause long enough to tell Sam what the hell was going on. Wouldn’t explain the near lightning speeds or the anxious twitching either. Yeah, Sam had noticed, hard not to-Dean had drummed his fingers on the steering wheel the entire nine hundred and fifty-six miles to…Bumfuck, Colorado. Unfair, but, damn it, Sam was part of the team. The team should know what the fuck was happening.
Dean was climbing the porch stairs by the time Sam caught up to him. His brother ignored him-or was unaware-too distracted by the key ring held in his hands. He skipped through the lot, finally extracting one from the bunch and sliding it into the keyhole. The lock snicked as it open, the handle turning, the door pressing in. Sam was too startled to question anything-namely that Dean had a key to some house in the middle of nowhere.
Sam’s boots rang loudly on the wooden floor as he stepped over the threshold, following his brother. The noise didn’t fill the house; it was already alive with motion, with sound, with energy. People lived there; he could feel it in the air, in his mind. People he didn’t know. A danger he had no way to gage. What the hell was Dean up to? He could’ve prepared him, told him what to expect. Sam was a little rusty, but not an idiot. The more he knew about a situation, the better prepared he could be.
A case of stairs jutted up to his right, a cozy living area to his left. Through a far doorway, Sam spotted a refrigerator, heard clattering pans. He squinted at a photo positioned on a mantle, not quite able to make out-
Two balls of limbs sprinted down the stairs, running towards them. Sam was instantly alert, fumbling with the back of his jack to withdraw the pistol-- No, the gun wasn’t there, Dean had taken it away. What the fuck had his brother been thinking? His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. The objects launched from the steps, flying towards Dean and his brother-
His brother snagged them from the air and pulled them to his chest. Dean snuggled his face into them, placing wet, smacking kisses on each of their cheeks. They giggled, wriggling in his brother’s arms. Sam squinted, clueless and a little discomforted. Scarier than random beasties. They were children. Not demons. Not some stunted flavor of troll. Not hellhounds. Just children.
“What the fu-“
“Dad, who’s that?”
That shut Sam up faster than the glistening black of Dean’s pupils. Twinkling, his brother’s eyes were twinkling, mischievous, ornery. Had the kid just said?
“Dad?”
“Honey. Just in time.”
Sam’s attention wrenched to the newcomer. Female: dark hair, wide smile, dark eyes, petite bordering on tiny. There was no mistaking the silver wedding band, the flour-stained apron, the swollen stomach.
“Dinner almost ready?” It was a husky rumble of sound, nearly a purr. She nodded and cocked her head to the side, smirking. “Come ‘ere.”
The woman stepped forward, into Dean, and Sam gawked, unable to do anything else. He watched, wholly unnerved as his brother’s hand curled in her hair, dragging her face to his, lips to lips. His other hand slipped down, rubbing slow circles over her round belly. He stared, transfixed, unable to look away.
Sam was in the fucking twilight zone. He’d stepped off the curb into crazy. He really, really needed a drink. Was this what a hallucination felt like?-cold sweats, inability to breathe, drowning?
“Who are you?”
He peered down into two sets of eyes, two identical sets of eyes. Twins. A boy. A girl. It had been the boy who had addressed him, tugging on his hand. There was no mistaking the curious twist of their mouths or the light brown of their hair. Sam had seen them before in a much larger scale.
“Idiot.” The girl shook her head and stuck out her tongue. “That’s Uncle Sam.”
“Uncle Sam?” Sam choked on the words. “Dean?”
“You okay, Sammy.” Dean smiled unconcernedly, truly enjoying the show. “You look like you’re gonna ralph.”
“No.” Sam shook his head, inhaled deeply. “I need to sit down. I think I hit my head or something.”
“Nah.” Dean punched his shoulder, the pain was immediate and piercing. “You’re doing fine.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
Dean glanced back at the woman and shrugged. “How was I supposed to do that? Say, gee, Sam, I know it’s been a few years and there’re a few things I’ve gotta tell you. I’m married, yup, got two kids, another on the way.” He paused, chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Yeah, actually, that woulda worked. Pretty simple, too, wonder why I didn’t-“
“You know why.” The woman poked Dean sharply in the ribs. “Cuz you’re a mean, sadistic bastard.” She gave Sam a sympathetic look and turned to the children. “Fox, go get your uncle some water. Dana, go with him.”
The room swam, lost focus. Sam stumbled a few steps and fell to his ass in the entryway. Dean and the woman edged closer, their faces bleary above him. He thought they might be talking to him, but he couldn’t hear above the roar in his ears.
“I need to lay down.”
His head collided with the floor. Stars burst in his vision. The world darkened to black.
*******
Sam’s eyes fluttered, drinking in the dim lighting, the figure hunched at the side of his bed. Dean. He was bent double, bowed over a tattered book. Tired. Weary. Thoroughly amused.
“’Bout time you woke up.” He closed the book, dropped it to the floor. “We were worried.”
“We?”
“Me. Liz. The kids.” Dean smirked. “You gonna faint again?”
He grimaced, shifting uncomfortably on…a mattress. At least they’d moved him to a more comfortable location. “I didn’t faint.”
“’Fraid you did.” A worried frown passed over Dean’s lips. “Think you might be concussed too.”
“I’m fine.” Sam sat up, leaning his weight into the wall. His head did ache a little. Probably because it was in overload. He was surprised it hadn’t exploded already. “You’re married?”
Dean grinned, unable to hide the gleam in his eyes. “Three years.”
“Does dad know?”
“Dad officiated.”
Stupid question. Dean wouldn’t do anything without his dad’s say so. Though that couldn’t really be right. Three years. The kids were at least five. Dean was a dad-shouldn’t hell have frozen over or something?
“He’s alright with them?”
The look on Dean’s face said everything. No, dad wasn’t okay. Interesting. Dean had disobeyed. For a woman. Sam was happy he hadn’t been around for that shit storm. No. That wasn’t true. His face tightened; he’d lost out on so much of his brother’s life. Dean had a family. Dean was a husband. Dean was a father.
Fuck. He missed out on an opportunity to be best man, to throw a stag party, to-
“She must be something.”
Wistful smile. Misty eyes. It was obvious-Dean loved her. “She’s everything.”
“And the kids?”
“Fox and Dana?” He shrugged, glanced towards the doorway. Dean turned back, eyes shining. “Unexpected. Winchester sperm is potent stuff.”
“Uh. Yeah.” Sam shivered. “Thanks for the imagery.”
“So you want to meet them?”
Sam’s lips pursed, his eyebrows narrowing. “I did.”
“Properly.” Something glinted in Dean’s gaze, something fragile, something hesitant. His brother was afraid Sam would disappoint him. Again. “Where it doesn’t end with you passed out on the floor.”
Sam closed his eyes, thought about the lying, the betrayal, the secrecy. In the end, it didn’t matter. Dean hadn’t told him for…whatever reason. They were still brothers. He had a niece and nephew. He had a sister. Finally, someone to complain to about Dean. It wouldn’t be all bad. In fact, it could be pretty damned good.
“Bring ‘em in.” Sam smiled, the action reaching all the way to his eyes. “I wanna meet the family.”
********
The End