Superchunk part the first.
Dean will be saved by the goodness of Superchunk. And by Sam.
I always liked Cassie. And so I killed her. Which, you know, might say something about my brain's innards. I just wanted to make sense of the hell they presented to us at the end of the season, and I also wanted Sam/Dean love. But since I'm a woman, I also like babies. So I put one of those in here, as well. And since I'm a bit of a lesbian, I like reading about ladies having sex. So I'm thinking there will be some of that, eventually, as well. Maybe Sam/OFC/Dean. And peanut butter. Om nom nom.
Part one. It is here. Just, right down there, you've almost got it. It is short.
.><.><.><.
Hello, you’ve reached Dean Winchester’s phone. I’m uh, I’m not going to be around anymore, so if you need something, if this is an emergency, call my brother, Sam. His number is 785-555-3326.
Good luck.
.><.><.><.
The persistent chirping of his phone finally dragged Sam back to consciousness at 10:32am. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, making a face at the small puddle of drool slowly leaking its way off the edge of his laptop. He fumbled for the phone and flicked it open, his voice coming rough and low.
“Hello?”
“Sam Winchester?” The voice was cautious, a woman, young.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m Jackie, Jackie Lane.”
“How can I help you, Miss Lane?” Sam asked, grabbing a napkin from beneath a pizza box and doing his best to mop up the drool.
“I was kind of hoping to speak to your brother, Dean, actually. I was wondering if you could put me in touch with him.”
“Um, I- That’s not...” Sam sighed. “Dean’s dead, Miss Lane. He died last week.”
“Oh. God. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah.” Sam gave up with the napkin and slumped down further in the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Yeah, me too.”
“There’s something he probably didn’t know; Cassie said he didn’t know.”
Sam stiffened slightly. “Cassie?”
“Cassie Anderson. I’m her lawyer. Estate executor, now. We were best friends.”
Sam’s voice dropped even lower at the defeat in Lane’s voice. “Were.”
“She died two days ago. There was a fire, in Ben’s nursery.”
Sam froze. “The nursery.”
“Yes.”
“Ben is Cassie’s...”
“Cassie’s son, and Dean’s, Mr. Winchester.”
.><.><.><.
Hell. It wasn’t exactly what Dean expected. Well, Dean hadn’t really known what he expected, but he wouldn’t have thought it would be like it was. Sort of like a twisted smorgasbord. And Dean was part of the buffet. He didn’t realize what was happening in the beginning, the thing scuttled along the chains so quickly Dean didn’t have a chance to react to it. But when it left him with an ache and a startling empty notch in his insides, he began to get an inkling.
He was being stolen away, piece by piece.
He began to struggle against the chains.
His right side was almost free the next time something came creeping along the chains towards him. This one was slower than the first, cautious. It looked almost human. Dean thought it probably was. Or had been, until recently.
“Hey, hey you, can you help me, here? I’m kinda stuck.”
Its blank, curious stare slowly morphed into a snarl as it saw Dean wasn’t getting free any time soon. It darted forward and shoved it’s hand through Dean’s chest. Dean felt a swirl of swollen, cottony pain as he gasped, the sickly fingers rooting around in his core and scratching along his edges. He bucked violently and the thing was tossed back, scrabbling at the chains and clutching something tight against its chest. It hissed and jumped down, swinging from the chains and making its way further and further from Dean, shoving stolen, broken pieces inside itself as it went.
“Fuck.” Dean breathed through the pain, feeling the notch inside himself, jagged, and bigger than before. “Fuck.”
He flexed his right arm, feeling the hook digging into the meat of his shoulder. Something moved off to his left, a flash of dark in the corner of his eye.
He yanked.
.><.><.><.
“I’m sorry?”
“Ben, he’s your brother’s son, Mr. Winchester.”
Sam pulled the phone back and stared at it for a few moments, before bringing it back to his ear. “But... how?”
The voice on the other end of the line gave a tired-sounding snort.
“No, I know how, of course, I just-”
“Just what?”
“When? How old is he, I mean.”
“He just turned two. The night Cassie died, it was his second birthday.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“What, I mean, what’s gonna happen to him now?”
“Cassie always said that if anything happened to her, Dean couldn’t, couldn’t take Ben unless he stopped hunting. Whatever that means. But now that they’re both gone-”
“Can I see him? Please?”
“Um, yeah, of course.”
Sam stood up and began gathering his things, bookmarking the open site on his web browser and closing the laptop. “Cape Girardeau, right?”
“Yeah. Well, just outside.”
“I can be there in three hours.”
Lane hesitated only briefly, before agreeing. “Yeah, okay. Ben is staying with me.”
Sam paused in the middle of throwing things into his duffel, staring at Dean’s bag, still packed and resting on the untouched bed farthest from the door. He took a deep breath. “Miss Lane?”
“Jackie.”
“Jackie. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.”
.><.><.><.
.
I always liked Cassie. And so I killed her. Which, you know, might say something about my brain's innards. I just wanted to make sense of the hell they presented to us at the end of the season, and I also wanted Sam/Dean love. But since I'm a woman, I also like babies. So I put one of those in here, as well. And since I'm a bit of a lesbian, I like reading about ladies having sex. So I'm thinking there will be some of that, eventually, as well. Maybe Sam/OFC/Dean. And peanut butter. Om nom nom.
Part one. It is here. Just, right down there, you've almost got it. It is short.
.><.><.><.
Hello, you’ve reached Dean Winchester’s phone. I’m uh, I’m not going to be around anymore, so if you need something, if this is an emergency, call my brother, Sam. His number is 785-555-3326.
Good luck.
.><.><.><.
The persistent chirping of his phone finally dragged Sam back to consciousness at 10:32am. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, making a face at the small puddle of drool slowly leaking its way off the edge of his laptop. He fumbled for the phone and flicked it open, his voice coming rough and low.
“Hello?”
“Sam Winchester?” The voice was cautious, a woman, young.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m Jackie, Jackie Lane.”
“How can I help you, Miss Lane?” Sam asked, grabbing a napkin from beneath a pizza box and doing his best to mop up the drool.
“I was kind of hoping to speak to your brother, Dean, actually. I was wondering if you could put me in touch with him.”
“Um, I- That’s not...” Sam sighed. “Dean’s dead, Miss Lane. He died last week.”
“Oh. God. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah.” Sam gave up with the napkin and slumped down further in the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Yeah, me too.”
“There’s something he probably didn’t know; Cassie said he didn’t know.”
Sam stiffened slightly. “Cassie?”
“Cassie Anderson. I’m her lawyer. Estate executor, now. We were best friends.”
Sam’s voice dropped even lower at the defeat in Lane’s voice. “Were.”
“She died two days ago. There was a fire, in Ben’s nursery.”
Sam froze. “The nursery.”
“Yes.”
“Ben is Cassie’s...”
“Cassie’s son, and Dean’s, Mr. Winchester.”
.><.><.><.
Hell. It wasn’t exactly what Dean expected. Well, Dean hadn’t really known what he expected, but he wouldn’t have thought it would be like it was. Sort of like a twisted smorgasbord. And Dean was part of the buffet. He didn’t realize what was happening in the beginning, the thing scuttled along the chains so quickly Dean didn’t have a chance to react to it. But when it left him with an ache and a startling empty notch in his insides, he began to get an inkling.
He was being stolen away, piece by piece.
He began to struggle against the chains.
His right side was almost free the next time something came creeping along the chains towards him. This one was slower than the first, cautious. It looked almost human. Dean thought it probably was. Or had been, until recently.
“Hey, hey you, can you help me, here? I’m kinda stuck.”
Its blank, curious stare slowly morphed into a snarl as it saw Dean wasn’t getting free any time soon. It darted forward and shoved it’s hand through Dean’s chest. Dean felt a swirl of swollen, cottony pain as he gasped, the sickly fingers rooting around in his core and scratching along his edges. He bucked violently and the thing was tossed back, scrabbling at the chains and clutching something tight against its chest. It hissed and jumped down, swinging from the chains and making its way further and further from Dean, shoving stolen, broken pieces inside itself as it went.
“Fuck.” Dean breathed through the pain, feeling the notch inside himself, jagged, and bigger than before. “Fuck.”
He flexed his right arm, feeling the hook digging into the meat of his shoulder. Something moved off to his left, a flash of dark in the corner of his eye.
He yanked.
.><.><.><.
“I’m sorry?”
“Ben, he’s your brother’s son, Mr. Winchester.”
Sam pulled the phone back and stared at it for a few moments, before bringing it back to his ear. “But... how?”
The voice on the other end of the line gave a tired-sounding snort.
“No, I know how, of course, I just-”
“Just what?”
“When? How old is he, I mean.”
“He just turned two. The night Cassie died, it was his second birthday.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“What, I mean, what’s gonna happen to him now?”
“Cassie always said that if anything happened to her, Dean couldn’t, couldn’t take Ben unless he stopped hunting. Whatever that means. But now that they’re both gone-”
“Can I see him? Please?”
“Um, yeah, of course.”
Sam stood up and began gathering his things, bookmarking the open site on his web browser and closing the laptop. “Cape Girardeau, right?”
“Yeah. Well, just outside.”
“I can be there in three hours.”
Lane hesitated only briefly, before agreeing. “Yeah, okay. Ben is staying with me.”
Sam paused in the middle of throwing things into his duffel, staring at Dean’s bag, still packed and resting on the untouched bed farthest from the door. He took a deep breath. “Miss Lane?”
“Jackie.”
“Jackie. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.”
.><.><.><.
.