SPN Winchester Band AU: Debut 1/1
SUMMARY: The brothers' first gig has a rather large complication named John. Origin story.
John Winchester grinned broadly as he watched his sons -- all five of them -- finish the song and smile shakily at each other. They were still a little awkward on the stage, but they were learning.
"So," he asked them again. "Do you still want to do this?"
All five nodded, but the way they looked at each other showed they were still a little uncertain.
"You know I'm not forcing you into this."
"We know," his oldest, James -- Dean, he corrected himself, the boy wanted to go by his middle name now -- said. "That's not the issue."
"So what's the issue?" John's business partner, Bobby Singer, asked from where he was sitting beside John.
"Well," the youngest of the five, John-Junior -- Sam, the boy wanted to go by his middle name too -- said a little nervously, looking over at his identical twin.
Jared shifted position on the keyboard bench, reaching up to scratch under the ridiculously incongrous green knit hat he insisted on wearing onstage so people could tell him apart from his twin. Not for the first time, John regretted indulging the boy's passion for that old TV show. "Well, it's who does what."
John shook his head. "You sounded great! Ready for tomorrow night?"
Dean paused, hands on the lead's microphone, and looked over his shoulder at Sam behind the drums. Sam nodded, and then Dean glanced over at his own twin, who was tapping the bass strings and looking down at them as if they held the secrets of the universe. The crystal green eyes the twins shared were pensive behind the Buddy Holly glasses Dean's younger mirror image insisted on wearing as Jensen looked up and nodded slightly.
"Yeah, we're ready," came the slightly strained notes of the fifth brother. Jimmy-C, who went by JC now, said as he shrugged off the six-string and walked to the wings.
"I didn't dismiss you yet!" John called.
"Too bad!" JC called over his shoulder as they followed him.
John groaned and looked at Bobby. "Tell me again why I adopted that one?"
"Because his dick family kicked him out?" Bobby shot back.
"Rhetorical question, Bob." John sighed. "I just don't get it. They want to do this, they tell me that over and over, but they're just not happy. I can't figure it out." He got up and walked back toward the wings.
Bobby leaned back in his chair and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "They just told you why, idjit. As usual, you ain't listenin'."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bobby Singer had never regretted his involvement with the Winchesters. He'd been the drummer in the original Winchester band, with guitarist John and his keyboardist wife Mary. Bassist Rufus Turner and multi-instrumentalist "Preacher" Jim Murphy had rounded out that lineup. They'd had some moderate success being opening acts for all kinds of acts in the Midwest, and even highlighted a few clubs on their own. Mary and John had had two pairs of identical twins, named all four with names that started with J, and the boys were on the road with the band and were the joys of the life.
Until the older J-pair were four and the youngest were six months old. That was the night Rufus had decided he could manage the massive tour bus during an overnight storm. There had been a deer, a wet road, a crash and a lot of fire. When it all had died down, Bobby was in a wheelchair. Rufus and Jim had severe injuries and could no longer play.
And Mary Winchester had burned to death.
When Bobby got well enough to track down the rest of the band, he kicked Rufus six ways from Sunday and eventually they had parted as friends. Rufus carried a load of guilt, but they still were in touch. Jim had become a preacher for real, and carried no anger toward Rufus.
But when Bobby found John, he was six months into a bender while his now-silent five years olds took almost religious devotion in caring for their infant brothers. That broke Bobby's heart. He got a house, moved the five men in, and proceeded to tough love John back into reality.
The years passed quickly and John really never recovered. The only thing that seemed to connect with him was when the boys began to hang around with a rather interesting kid at school.
His ultra-religious family had named him after an obscure angel -- Castiel -- but he preferred to be called Jimmy, though that wasn't really his name. John and Bobby didn't really care. They just took the fifth J under their wings and gave him a safe place to grow into himself. When Jimmy-C's family gave him the ultimatum of not dividing his allegiance and forced him to choose the Winchester family or themselves, only they were surprised when Jimmy-C packed up his clothes and rode away on his bike, tan jacket flapping in the breeze like wings.
John had never wanted his boys to go into music. But all five were drawn to it, and so John adapted. He reluctantly created a new Winchester band, putting the boys where he thought they were best suited. Now, as they were prepping for their debut gig, Bobby was noticing how they were badly fitting in those roles.
He had long ago taken on the job of management of the band, lining up practice halls, instuments, and this gig itself. Now it seemed it was time for him to step up and manage the lineup.
Bobby went backstage and found five morose faces turned up to him. "Now that's not the kind of thing the crowds want to see," he pointed out gently, tapping the wall. "So here's what we're going to do. We're going to go back onstage and figure a few things out."
The five looked at each other, then Sam began, "But Dad--"
Bobby shook his head. "Let me deal with your daddy. Now hop to, all of you. We've got work to do."
~*~*~*~*~*~
The next night was the gig, and the small family met backstage to go over the set list. John asked just before they walked on, "You sure you boys are okay?"
They all nodded, smiling at him.
"All right, then."
Bobby wheeled over. "John, you have a phone call. It can't wait. Go on, boys, we'll catch the show after this."
They all hugged Bobby and jogged onstage, one at a time, to cheers.
John reluctantly followed Bobby. "This better be one hell of an important call."
Bobby waited till the first notes of the Tubes' "She's A Beauty" started, then spun the chair around. "There's no call. I had to get you a bit away from the stage."
John frowned. "What? Why?"
"I've told you and told you you had it wrong, John. That's why the boys were so uncomfortable. But it's okay now."
"Bob, I don't have time for twenty quest--" John broke off, eyes widening as the first line ("Step right up, and don't be shy/For you will not believe your eyes!") hit his ears. "...,that's not Dean's voice."
"No. It's not."
"Singer! What the hell did you DO?" Before Bobby could answer, John was tearing back toward the stage at a run, leaving Bobby to curse and wheel quickly after him, praying that the man would not just barge onto the stage and interrupt his boys.
What seemed like forever but was only the length of a single verse later, Bobby blew a relieved breath out as he saw John standing in the wings, hands hanging limp at his sides. His jaw was hanging comically open and his eyes were rapidly filling with tears as he stared at the new iteration of Winchester.
The only boy where he had assigned them was Jared behind the keyboards, though he now had a microphone as well. John couldn't stop the stray thought that one of these days he was going to burn that damn green hat.
Dean was on the elevated riser, in just his t-shirt and that wild pendant he never took off. The sheer joy on his face as his sticks met the drums in perfect rhythm and time could not be denied.
Jensen was off on the other side, and John had specifically told him not to wear those glasses onstage. Bad enough he insisted on wearing a sweatervest and looking like a too young Fred Rogers -- but those glasses took nerd chic a bit too far. John somehow couldn't reconcile his second-born's fashion sense to the skillful rock he was effortlessly coaxing from the blue guitar.
Beside the keyboards was a side of the usually shy JC that John had never seen before. His voice rose in harmony with the rest of the band, but John was left with the disturbing impression that this whirlwind with the sky-blue eyes and jet curls was what Keith Moon would have looked like if he had been a bassist. JC didn't use a pick -- he played it like a keyboardist.
The biggest shock, though, was his baby boy. Seventeen year old Sam had been born fifteen minutes after Jared, and he had been slightly sickly. John had wanted him behind the drums where he could be shielded.
Sam wasn't shielded now. He had the microphone in his hand and was putting his heart and soul into the lyrics as he effortlessly took lead. John's soft-spoken, gentle boy was transformed out there. In front of the crowd he had become the reincarnation of Freddie Mercury mixed with more than a little Jim Morrison, with a heaping helping of Roger Daltrey thrown in for good measure.
John didn't recognise him. He didn't recognise this lineup.
But he couldn't deny the talent. These kids were GOOD.
"She's a Beauty" ended. Dean clicked the sticks four times, and Jensen joined his twin and JC in opening "Back in Black" -- and the crowd went insane.
It only ramped up from there. Song after song, through the ten-song set, John's boys had the crowd eating from their hands and begging for more.
But on the seventh song, John spun to face Bobby with a look of horrified shock when Sam produced a vocoder and did the demon voice while JC sang Boston's "Higher Power".
Bobby held up his hands. "I didn't suggest that, John. I didn't even know they had that. I knew they were going to do Higher Power, we both did -- but I didn't know they had rebuilt Mary's vocoder."
"Rebuilt it, hell! Mary's couldn't do THAT range of sounds! Those brats IMPROVED it!" John sounded awed and in shock.
When the last song ended, all five heads swung toward the wings and eyes locked onto John. Five faces went blank, and eyes began to meet eyes.
Then suddenly Dean announced into his microphone, "We're doin' this thing. Right now."
"Yeah!" Sam nodded. "Yeah, we are! ONE! TWO!"
Jared switched a few switches and began to play while Dean leaned on the cymbals. A few bars in, JC's bass started in and John's heart started to beat faster. ....no....
Jensen moved forward and a very distinctive guitar riff started while Dean moved to the drums themselves. Sam licked his lips, moved forward and began to sing.
"I was born to run, I was born to dream.The craziest boy you ever seen -- I gotta do it my way... or no way at all!"
John's eyes closed as the song rolled on. One of Loverboy's biggest hits, now with his children playing it, tranformed into an indictment of his parenting and his management of their fledgling careers.
"So why don't you turn me loose! Turn me loose! Turn me loose!"
John looked at the ceiling, swallowing hard and battling his emotions as he stood there and took it.
The song ended -- challenge and demand -- and five faces turned back toward the wings as the crowd erupted.
John turned and met Bobby's eyes. "Good luck with them, Singer. You're going to need it." Then he smiled at his boys onstage. He gave them two thumbs up.
Then he turned on his heel and -- without a word -- walked out of his sons' lives.
He turned them loose.
END
John Winchester grinned broadly as he watched his sons -- all five of them -- finish the song and smile shakily at each other. They were still a little awkward on the stage, but they were learning.
"So," he asked them again. "Do you still want to do this?"
All five nodded, but the way they looked at each other showed they were still a little uncertain.
"You know I'm not forcing you into this."
"We know," his oldest, James -- Dean, he corrected himself, the boy wanted to go by his middle name now -- said. "That's not the issue."
"So what's the issue?" John's business partner, Bobby Singer, asked from where he was sitting beside John.
"Well," the youngest of the five, John-Junior -- Sam, the boy wanted to go by his middle name too -- said a little nervously, looking over at his identical twin.
Jared shifted position on the keyboard bench, reaching up to scratch under the ridiculously incongrous green knit hat he insisted on wearing onstage so people could tell him apart from his twin. Not for the first time, John regretted indulging the boy's passion for that old TV show. "Well, it's who does what."
John shook his head. "You sounded great! Ready for tomorrow night?"
Dean paused, hands on the lead's microphone, and looked over his shoulder at Sam behind the drums. Sam nodded, and then Dean glanced over at his own twin, who was tapping the bass strings and looking down at them as if they held the secrets of the universe. The crystal green eyes the twins shared were pensive behind the Buddy Holly glasses Dean's younger mirror image insisted on wearing as Jensen looked up and nodded slightly.
"Yeah, we're ready," came the slightly strained notes of the fifth brother. Jimmy-C, who went by JC now, said as he shrugged off the six-string and walked to the wings.
"I didn't dismiss you yet!" John called.
"Too bad!" JC called over his shoulder as they followed him.
John groaned and looked at Bobby. "Tell me again why I adopted that one?"
"Because his dick family kicked him out?" Bobby shot back.
"Rhetorical question, Bob." John sighed. "I just don't get it. They want to do this, they tell me that over and over, but they're just not happy. I can't figure it out." He got up and walked back toward the wings.
Bobby leaned back in his chair and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "They just told you why, idjit. As usual, you ain't listenin'."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bobby Singer had never regretted his involvement with the Winchesters. He'd been the drummer in the original Winchester band, with guitarist John and his keyboardist wife Mary. Bassist Rufus Turner and multi-instrumentalist "Preacher" Jim Murphy had rounded out that lineup. They'd had some moderate success being opening acts for all kinds of acts in the Midwest, and even highlighted a few clubs on their own. Mary and John had had two pairs of identical twins, named all four with names that started with J, and the boys were on the road with the band and were the joys of the life.
Until the older J-pair were four and the youngest were six months old. That was the night Rufus had decided he could manage the massive tour bus during an overnight storm. There had been a deer, a wet road, a crash and a lot of fire. When it all had died down, Bobby was in a wheelchair. Rufus and Jim had severe injuries and could no longer play.
And Mary Winchester had burned to death.
When Bobby got well enough to track down the rest of the band, he kicked Rufus six ways from Sunday and eventually they had parted as friends. Rufus carried a load of guilt, but they still were in touch. Jim had become a preacher for real, and carried no anger toward Rufus.
But when Bobby found John, he was six months into a bender while his now-silent five years olds took almost religious devotion in caring for their infant brothers. That broke Bobby's heart. He got a house, moved the five men in, and proceeded to tough love John back into reality.
The years passed quickly and John really never recovered. The only thing that seemed to connect with him was when the boys began to hang around with a rather interesting kid at school.
His ultra-religious family had named him after an obscure angel -- Castiel -- but he preferred to be called Jimmy, though that wasn't really his name. John and Bobby didn't really care. They just took the fifth J under their wings and gave him a safe place to grow into himself. When Jimmy-C's family gave him the ultimatum of not dividing his allegiance and forced him to choose the Winchester family or themselves, only they were surprised when Jimmy-C packed up his clothes and rode away on his bike, tan jacket flapping in the breeze like wings.
John had never wanted his boys to go into music. But all five were drawn to it, and so John adapted. He reluctantly created a new Winchester band, putting the boys where he thought they were best suited. Now, as they were prepping for their debut gig, Bobby was noticing how they were badly fitting in those roles.
He had long ago taken on the job of management of the band, lining up practice halls, instuments, and this gig itself. Now it seemed it was time for him to step up and manage the lineup.
Bobby went backstage and found five morose faces turned up to him. "Now that's not the kind of thing the crowds want to see," he pointed out gently, tapping the wall. "So here's what we're going to do. We're going to go back onstage and figure a few things out."
The five looked at each other, then Sam began, "But Dad--"
Bobby shook his head. "Let me deal with your daddy. Now hop to, all of you. We've got work to do."
~*~*~*~*~*~
The next night was the gig, and the small family met backstage to go over the set list. John asked just before they walked on, "You sure you boys are okay?"
They all nodded, smiling at him.
"All right, then."
Bobby wheeled over. "John, you have a phone call. It can't wait. Go on, boys, we'll catch the show after this."
They all hugged Bobby and jogged onstage, one at a time, to cheers.
John reluctantly followed Bobby. "This better be one hell of an important call."
Bobby waited till the first notes of the Tubes' "She's A Beauty" started, then spun the chair around. "There's no call. I had to get you a bit away from the stage."
John frowned. "What? Why?"
"I've told you and told you you had it wrong, John. That's why the boys were so uncomfortable. But it's okay now."
"Bob, I don't have time for twenty quest--" John broke off, eyes widening as the first line ("Step right up, and don't be shy/For you will not believe your eyes!") hit his ears. "...,that's not Dean's voice."
"No. It's not."
"Singer! What the hell did you DO?" Before Bobby could answer, John was tearing back toward the stage at a run, leaving Bobby to curse and wheel quickly after him, praying that the man would not just barge onto the stage and interrupt his boys.
What seemed like forever but was only the length of a single verse later, Bobby blew a relieved breath out as he saw John standing in the wings, hands hanging limp at his sides. His jaw was hanging comically open and his eyes were rapidly filling with tears as he stared at the new iteration of Winchester.
The only boy where he had assigned them was Jared behind the keyboards, though he now had a microphone as well. John couldn't stop the stray thought that one of these days he was going to burn that damn green hat.
Dean was on the elevated riser, in just his t-shirt and that wild pendant he never took off. The sheer joy on his face as his sticks met the drums in perfect rhythm and time could not be denied.
Jensen was off on the other side, and John had specifically told him not to wear those glasses onstage. Bad enough he insisted on wearing a sweatervest and looking like a too young Fred Rogers -- but those glasses took nerd chic a bit too far. John somehow couldn't reconcile his second-born's fashion sense to the skillful rock he was effortlessly coaxing from the blue guitar.
Beside the keyboards was a side of the usually shy JC that John had never seen before. His voice rose in harmony with the rest of the band, but John was left with the disturbing impression that this whirlwind with the sky-blue eyes and jet curls was what Keith Moon would have looked like if he had been a bassist. JC didn't use a pick -- he played it like a keyboardist.
The biggest shock, though, was his baby boy. Seventeen year old Sam had been born fifteen minutes after Jared, and he had been slightly sickly. John had wanted him behind the drums where he could be shielded.
Sam wasn't shielded now. He had the microphone in his hand and was putting his heart and soul into the lyrics as he effortlessly took lead. John's soft-spoken, gentle boy was transformed out there. In front of the crowd he had become the reincarnation of Freddie Mercury mixed with more than a little Jim Morrison, with a heaping helping of Roger Daltrey thrown in for good measure.
John didn't recognise him. He didn't recognise this lineup.
But he couldn't deny the talent. These kids were GOOD.
"She's a Beauty" ended. Dean clicked the sticks four times, and Jensen joined his twin and JC in opening "Back in Black" -- and the crowd went insane.
It only ramped up from there. Song after song, through the ten-song set, John's boys had the crowd eating from their hands and begging for more.
But on the seventh song, John spun to face Bobby with a look of horrified shock when Sam produced a vocoder and did the demon voice while JC sang Boston's "Higher Power".
Bobby held up his hands. "I didn't suggest that, John. I didn't even know they had that. I knew they were going to do Higher Power, we both did -- but I didn't know they had rebuilt Mary's vocoder."
"Rebuilt it, hell! Mary's couldn't do THAT range of sounds! Those brats IMPROVED it!" John sounded awed and in shock.
When the last song ended, all five heads swung toward the wings and eyes locked onto John. Five faces went blank, and eyes began to meet eyes.
Then suddenly Dean announced into his microphone, "We're doin' this thing. Right now."
"Yeah!" Sam nodded. "Yeah, we are! ONE! TWO!"
Jared switched a few switches and began to play while Dean leaned on the cymbals. A few bars in, JC's bass started in and John's heart started to beat faster. ....no....
Jensen moved forward and a very distinctive guitar riff started while Dean moved to the drums themselves. Sam licked his lips, moved forward and began to sing.
"I was born to run, I was born to dream.The craziest boy you ever seen -- I gotta do it my way... or no way at all!"
John's eyes closed as the song rolled on. One of Loverboy's biggest hits, now with his children playing it, tranformed into an indictment of his parenting and his management of their fledgling careers.
"So why don't you turn me loose! Turn me loose! Turn me loose!"
John looked at the ceiling, swallowing hard and battling his emotions as he stood there and took it.
The song ended -- challenge and demand -- and five faces turned back toward the wings as the crowd erupted.
John turned and met Bobby's eyes. "Good luck with them, Singer. You're going to need it." Then he smiled at his boys onstage. He gave them two thumbs up.
Then he turned on his heel and -- without a word -- walked out of his sons' lives.
He turned them loose.
END