(no subject)
Title: Five Times Dean Saved a Cardinal
Rating: PG-13 for language
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Characters/pairings: Sam, Dean, Jess, OC
Spoilers: S1
Disclaimer: They still don’t belong to me. Damn it.
Summary: Title says it all.
1.
Sam was sweating so profusely he knew his flimsy t-shirt was soaked. The disgusted glances thrown his way told him as much. Hunching further to shrink his six-foot-plus frame, Sam quickened his pace and managed to reach his dorm in less than three minutes. As soon as he entered the air-conditioned building people waved at him and yelled his name to get his attention. However Sam was in no mood to socialize. He almost ran to his room, glad to see his roommate, Jason, was elsewhere. Sam slammed the door closed and just for the hell of it turned on Jason’s stereo , not caring if it was AC/DC or Brahms blasting through the thin walls.
Shit, shit shit. He thought morosely as he crumpled onto his too-short bed. Been here less than a month and I’m going to be tossed out on my ass.
He opened his cell and stared at his contacts. Dean’s name glared at him disapprovingly. Sam closed his eyes and moaned. On the list of people he dreaded disappointing, his big brother was on top. When Sam escaped from his father’s tyrannical rule he knew he left behind a world of hurt and anger. Yet, Dean never begrudged the mess he was forced to clean up in Sam’s turbulent wake. Instead, Sam had two voice mails from Dean, all sincere well wishes for his Stanford career.
But now everything was fast going to hell because Sam decided to follow his hunter’s instinct. And yet Sam couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions, even though he suspected his scholarship was pretty much wiped out. He knew those two juniors were up to no good and he was right. Sam barely made it in time to rescue the girl. With one quick but thorough glance he knew she was drugged, and that was all it took for Sam’s temper to explode.
Living with his father’s brand of justice trained Sam to see the world of good and evil in a way few people did. To the Winchester men assholes who drugged and raped women deserved to get their dicks cut off. Something Dean threatened to do to more than few men who were unfortunate enough to be caught by him. Dean may be a horndog but he would never harm a woman because he was looking for a good time.
After Sam was done with the two bastards he took the girl to the campus infirmary. Everyone there treated him like a hero. Then everything turned to shit. As it turned out one of the would-be rapists was a son of a senator and didn’t hesitate to use his father’s pull to lay the blame on Sam’s doorsteps. And because the victim was drugged Sam didn’t have anyone to backup his story.
He was up for council review and was told in confidence by one of his professors that he better get his act together because the senator was not about to have his son tagged as a rapist. It would make his re-election next to impossible.
There was a knock on the door and Sam was tempted not to answer. But good manners won and Sam opened the door to find Missy, his roommate’s girlfriend, smiling winningly at him. He saw Jason running down the hall and gave a small wave.
“Sorry for the music,” Sam said lamely as he realized it was Jason’s stereo he was currently destroying.
“Don’t mind it, man.” Jason said as he sat down. “So how does it feel to be vindicated?”
“What?”
“Sam, didn’t you check your e-mail?” Missy asked gently.
“Didn’t have the time. What’s up?”
Jason threw back his head and laughed so it was Missy who explained. “It’s all over the campus. Isaac Masterson is up to his neck in shit. The bastard is finally going to get thrown out on his sorry, silver-spooned ass!”
“How … what happened?” Sam asked weakly.
“Dude exploded all over Dorothy Wilkes,” Jason explained, gleefully chortling. “She’s a member of the sorority his so-called girlfriend belongs to. As it turns out Masterson pulled that date-rape shit before, on Dorothy and her roommate. But they didn’t say anything because they were too scared. Anyway, he was visiting his girlfriend when somebody trashed his car.”
“The Beemer?” Sam was dumbfounded. “That car’s worth sixty grand!”
“Not anymore!” Missy said, laughing alongside her boyfriend. “Someone poured cement into the engine block and inside the car. By the time Masterson made it back to his sweet little ride it was a hunk of cement. Get this - all the tires blew out because of the car’s weight.”
“Masterson turned psycho,” Jason continued the story. “Went on a rampage, screaming he was going to gut Dorothy. She got lucky: the asshole didn’t get very far. Some stranger got in the way and knocked the bastard down before he got to her. Police came, then the media came, and now it’s just one huge stinking mess. I just heard from Cynthia who works at the Dean’s Office that your name’s in the clear.”
Sam forced himself to calm down before speaking. “Dorothy was damn lucky. Who was the guy that stopped Masterson? Another kid from school?”
“Some random guy from the street,” Missy said. “But real cute from what I heard. And handy with his fists too. Took out the asshole with just one punch.”
Sam’s smile softly. “Oh yeah, I can believe that.”
2.
Sam opened his wallet. There it was: the last twenty-dollar bill in his possession. And he had an entire month to go before he’d get his first paycheck. Thank heavens rent wasn’t an issue as he already paid two months in advance. What he hadn’t expected to be such a huge drain on his meager resources was how costly food was outside of school. Sam wryly remembered how often Dean complained of his appetite, usually before he shoveled another Sam-sized helping onto his plate.
He wondered if he could live on ramen for an entire month. Wincing at the thought Sam went out to check for mail. Credit card applications along with grocery flyers crammed the mailbox. Just looking at the pictures of juicy steak and fresh produce made him salivate uncontrollably. Sam was tempted for a moment to apply for a Visa but rejected the thought. He deliberately left that life and for a good reason. Then he came upon the only personal letter in the entire pile. It was a crinkled, dirty brown envelope with his name written in a childish scrawl.
Sam recognized the handwriting and slowly opened the envelope, wary of itching powder or some other clever booby trap. In it was five hundred dollars, neatly wrapped up in a letter.
Dorkus,
Hope you’re getting laid ‘cause I’m not. Been hunting from one end of the coast to the other. Don’t worry. All I got so far is a bad headache and a cool scar.
Dad won’t say hello so I’ll say it for him.
Take the money. Half of it’s yours anyway. Won it in Reno using your birth date. Love Reno. Hate Las Vegas. Damn town’s got more ghosts than I can handle.
Dean
Sam hid the money in his Bible. The letter went into his wallet.
3.
Jess was still crying though her shuddering stopped almost twenty minutes ago. Sam held her tightly, his face white, his grip whiter. He still couldn’t believe that she escaped from what was assuredly a violent death with only a bruised cheek.
“I’m okay,” Jess said as she straightened up in his embrace.
“That’s good,” Sam answered, still clutching tightly.
“I just don’t know what to make of it. How could a guy jump that high? He cleared Professor Burnstein’s gate. That thing has to be at last nine feet tall.”
Sam closed his eyes. Spring Heeled Jacks. Rapists extraordinaire, and adept murderers more often than not.
“I’m going to the campus police,” Jess said resolutely. “I don’t care if I sound crazy. They have to know there’s a rapist on the loose.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll go with you.” Sam reluctantly let her go as she stood up.
Before they left her room Jess turned to him. “Thanks for listening. And, well … everything. I thought nobody would believe me if I told them what happened to me tonight.”
“You’re not the type to make up such stories, Jess.”
“I know. I just wish I knew who the guy was. He saw the thing … the man just over the wall.”
“What guy?”
“The one that drove off my attacker. He came out of nowhere. Yelled loud enough to get Professor Burnstein out of his house.”
“Maybe he already reported it,” Sam said, knowing Dean would never attract the attention of local law enforcement.
But Sam wasn’t surprised to find Dean proved him wrong. He wouldn’t be surprised either if Jess’ attacker was nothing but ashes by the end of the night.
4.
“Come on, open it!” Jess said as she rattled Sam’s present.
“I swear you’re more excited about my birthday than I am.”
“It’s from your brother. The brother you never talk about, the mysterious stranger who drops postcards in the mail once in a while.”
Sam smiled and took the package from his girlfriend’s grasp. He tore open the newspaper wrapping and gasped when he saw the company logo on the box.
“Oh Sam,” Jess whispered.
He opened the lid and gazed with delight at the brand new pair of Mephisto boots.
“That must have been so expensive,” Jess said. “Is there a card?”
Sam dug inside the box and found a piece of folded paper. He opened it and burst out laughing. Jess snatched it from his grasp. Her laughter was louder than his.
There was only a crude rendering of Sam on crutches with his right leg in a cast, with a dour look on the pointy face capped with massive shaggy hair.
Three weeks prior Jess invited Sam to join her family in a hiking trip. It was a great way to meet Jess’ family and since he was in excellent shape he quickly earned the respect of her father and brother. That was until he slipped on a wet rock and went tumbling down a gorge. Sam ended up being medevac-ed to a nearby hospital where the x-ray showed two clean fractures on his right leg.
To his relief the Moore’s family thought the entire drama more entertaining than bothersome and Sam was released into their care from the hospital. In fact Jess’ mother nursed over him with such tender dedication Sam wondered if his did the same for him and Dean. The thought was quickly banished.
The boots would fit once he was able to wear them, and the homemade card joined Dean’s letter in his wallet.
5.
“Dean? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, I was looking for a beer.”
The End
Author’s Notes:
I was playing with the word 'cardinal' in the title. In relation to Stanford it means the color and not the bird. Thought it would make a better title than 'Five Times Dean Saved a Redwood Tree'.