(no subject)
Before Tomorrow
Summary: Dad's missing, November 2nd is approaching, and now Jess is calling saying that there's something up with Sam. Dean heads to Palo Alto to try to figure out what's going on. EpilepticSam 'verse.
Chapter Three
The atmosphere in the apartment is much lighter that afternoon. Jess is back and making chocolate chip cookies - after Dean point blank refused to help her make cupcakes on account of them being far too girly - and Sam is spacey but no longer snappy, sitting at the kitchen table reading one of his textbooks in between being distracted by Jess and Dean's inane conversations, which started with how Jess's shift went and has somehow arrived at which Smurf would make the best boyfriend for Smurfette.
“You're both wrong,” Sam says, after Dean and Jess have argued Hefty and Handy Smurf's virtues respectively. “It should be Jokey. Remember when he dressed up as Don Smurfo and stole one of Azreal's whiskers to impress Smurfette? He was totally expressing his love for her, but then she discovered his secret identity and he went back to hiding his true feelings and the pain of unrequited love under his clown-like mask.”
Jess is looking at Sam the same way she looks at adorable cats on the internet, all smiley and misty-eyed. Dean, however, is pretty sure his eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline.
“You have given this way too much thought.” He brandishes his spoon at Sam accusingly and the corner of Sam's mouth quirks up into a smile.
“Jess likes the Smurfs.” He shrugs. “And college has programmed me to over-analyse the crap out of everything.”
“And yet you're still wrong. Hefty can protect her from Gargamel...” Dean trails off, rolling his eyes at himself. “Oh, Jesus, you two have turned me into one of you,” he grumbles, turning back to the mixing bowl as he shakes his head in mock disgust. “Only five year olds should know this much about Smurfs.”
He can tell that Sam and Jess are grinning at each other behind his back and can't suppress a private smile of his own. It might be too early to know how well Sam will sleep but, as Dean predicted (because, duh, Sammy, you should've listened to your big brother from the start) the kid's obviously relieved to get everything off his chest and tentatively willing to accept Dean's explanation for the recurring nightmare. Dean himself is feeling pretty confident that he's gotten to the bottom of things. Sam's going to be just fine once the current stresses in his life resolve themselves. Now all Dean has to do is track down Dad and everything will be perfect. And right now, standing here in his soon-to-be sister-in-law and little brother's kitchen, it's pretty easy to feel confident about that too.
XXX
The next morning there's a voicemail from Dad on Dean's freshly charged phone (he blames the few-too-many beers he had with Jess last night - Sam strictly ordered to stick to water - for forgetting to plug it in). And okay, the voicemail is a little concerning - definitely some EVP static distorting Dad's voice - but at last Dean knows where to go, what to do. At last he has proof that Dad's okay and a total dick for leaving him hanging so long, which he is totally going to tell the man once he tracks him down, even though right now he's really damn happy to be thinking about what a dick his father is because it means Dad's alive to be a dick.
Dean can sense eyes on him. Sam, wanting to hear who called, if it was Dad, and Jess, probably wondering at the sudden tension filling the small kitchen, and thinks carefully about his wording before he takes the phone from his ear and turns to face them.
They're sitting at the kitchen table, Jess a little hungover and Sam a little vague but the kid actually slept the whole night so he's looking better than he has since Dean got here. Jess is cradling her coffee like she's afraid someone will take it away from her, long hair tumbling in sleep-mussed curls over her shoulders. She's wearing her Smurf t-shirt and sweatpants and looks completely adorable, because she's the kind of girl who can't look anything else, even when she's looking a little green.
“What's going on?” she asks, eyes moving from Sam's tense shoulders to Dean's hopefully-neutral face.
“Nothing,” Dean says lightly, with a deliberate exasperated roll of his eyes. “We were right, Sam. Seems like Dad's planning on spending November 2nd getting plastered.” He doesn't feel bad about the lie - he'd be shocked if Dad hadn't been having more than his fair share of drinks lately - and Sam knows what they were right about. Going MIA on hunts this time of year isn't exactly new, even if this is by far the longest Dad's gone without checking in, and it's no surprise to find that Dad's thrown himself into a case it turns out he needs help with.
“Did he say where he is?” Sam asks, which has Jess shooting him a questioning glance over her coffee cup.
Dean nods. “Not even that far from here. I can go hunt him down.”
“Is he okay?” Jess asks, directing her question at Dean so she misses the way Sam flinches a little at the word 'hunt' or maybe just at the fact that they're having an entirely different conversation to the one Jess thinks they're having.
“Yeah, he'll be fine,” Dean says dismissively, waving off Jess's concern. “He does this pretty much every year.”
“You're leaving now?” Sam asks, before Jess can pry any further, watching the way Dean's patting down his jacket, checking for keys and wallet. He slips his phone into a side pocket.
“'fraid so, Sammy,” Dean says, just to watch Sam scowl at the nickname. “I'll come check in after I see Dad though, how's that? Maybe I can drag him away long enough for a visit.”
Sam makes a face that expresses his doubt at Dean's ability to stop Dad jumping from this hunt to the next with the single-minded blood-lust that erupts in the man towards the end of October but all the same, can't quite hide his longing for a visit from his father. “That'd be nice,” he says guardedly.
“We should do Thanksgiving,” Jess says, apparently giving up on trying to understand the undeniably heavy atmosphere brought on by Dad's voice message. She's too smart not to know when there's something going on but thankfully too hungover to hit them up. Hopefully she'll be so happy to have Sam sleeping again that she won't press the kid when Dean leaves. Gift horses and all that. “My parent are flying out to my brother and sister-in-law's place this year and there's, like, no way I'm going to stay at Princess Better-Than-Everyone's house. You and your Dad should come here. I can cook. I mean, I've never done a full Thanksgiving thing before but I think I can put something decent together-”
She breaks off as she notices the smirks Dean and Sam are throwing each other, looking bewildered and a little defensive. “What? I'm sure I can do it.”
Dean shakes his head, still grinning as he crosses the kitchen to pull Jess out of her chair and into a hug. “Not that, dumbass. We grew up on the road with a single father; whatever you do will probably be the fanciest Thanksgiving we've ever had. Right, Sammy?” he asks over her shoulder.
“Definitely,” Sam agrees, but behind Jess's back he shifts uneasily at the mention of their past. Dean wonders if he's put his foot in it, maybe leading Jess towards more questions Sam doesn't want to answer yet, but Jess doesn't push the subject.
“Well, is that a yes then?” she asks, pulling away to look him in the eye.
“I'll see what I can do. I can't make promises for Dad but I can probably swing it.” He hopes, anyway. If he takes on hunts close to Palo Alto between now and then, surely he can fit in some time with Jess and Sammy. He can see the doubt he feels reflected in Sam's eyes though. Monsters don't exactly give a crap about Thanksgiving plans and if Dean has to bail on Jess's dinner because of a hunt, it'll be one more thing they'll have to lie about. Maybe Sam's right and it is about time they told her the truth. Jess is tough. She can handle it.
“Look after yourself, Sammy-” Dean starts, releasing Jess to drag Sam up for a hug, a proper one, none of that manly 'slap on the back and pull away' stuff, not when Dean's heading off to whatever - probably dangerous - hunt Dad wants help with and Sam's medical condition means there's always a possibility that the kid might not wake up from one of his seizures some day.
“Take your meds, get some sleep, and eat your crazy seizure food,” Sam finishes with him, reluctantly drawing back. “I know your goodbye speech by heart, Dean.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “I'm serious, Sam. If I get a call saying you're in the hospital, I'm gonna be pissed.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam says sarcastically, “I'll just tell my brain to stop short-circuiting.”
“Just don't encourage it, all right?” Dean jabs a finger at Sam threateningly. “I'm gonna be back and if I find out you haven't been sleeping I'm gonna kick your ass. And Jess, you have my permission to do it in the meantime.”
“Awesome,” Jess says gleefully, bumping her hip playfully against Sam's side as she slides her arm around his waist. Automatically, it seems, Sam's arm curls around her shoulders and for one stupid, sappy moment Dean wants to take a picture of the two of them, right there, right now. His baby brother and the girl he's going to marry, looking so damn adorable and happy and in love. He doesn't, of course, because he's not a huge mushy girl like Sam is.
“I'll give you a call when I meet up with Dad. You two call me whenever you want, and especially if there's an emergency, okay?”
“I always call you when Sam needs you, whether he wants me to or not,” Jess says, a sly smile curling the corner of her mouth while Sam rolls his eyes and grumbles good-naturedly.
“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Dean grins.
“I thought that was my baking,” Jess teases.
“That too,” Dean concedes. Jess's culinary prowess is only one of the many reasons Dean has for loving her almost as much as Sam does. He resists the urge to drag them both into another hug, reminding himself that he's not even planning on being gone for that long. He'll see them again soon, if not after the hunt with Dad, then for whatever awesome Thanksgiving feast Jess cooks up, which is bound to be a million times better than any of the many turkey sandwiches he's eaten in diners across the country over the years. Maybe Dad will even make an appearance and it'll be like a real family Thanksgiving for once.
“Be good, Sammy,” Dean teases one last time, ruffling Sam's hair as the kid drops back into his seat. Jess perches herself on his knee and wraps her arms around his neck. “Don't drink too much, Jessie.”
“Urgh, I'm never drinking again,” Jess declares, pressing her fingers against her temple with a wince.
“What about at the Halloween party tonight?” Dean suggests innocently, and both Jess and Sam's heads bob up in surprise.
“Dean...” Sam says.
“That's not... we don't have to go,” Jess says awkwardly.
“But then Sam would miss out on whatever killer costume you have picked out.” He winks at her and Jess blushes. He bets her costume is sexy as hell. He grins at Sam. “You wouldn't want to miss that, would you, Sammy?”
Sam sighs. “I don't know, Dean.”
This kid is impossible. “Go to the party, Sam. That's an order.”
Sam just raises an eyebrow sceptically. “An order?”
Dean raises his hands in supplication. “All right, it's a hopeful suggestion. Go have fun with Jess and your friends. It's just one night. You can worry about your interview and everything else tomorrow.”
Sam looks from Dean to Jess, who's trying so hard to look like she's fine with doing whatever Sam wants, including staying home, even though it's obvious she's dying to go to the party. Sam runs a hand down his face, outnumbered. “Okay, fine, I'll go. Happy now?”
“Very,” Dean confirms, as Jess's face lights up and she jumps off of Sam's knee to pull him to his feet, hangover apparently forgotten.
“Come see my costume,” she begs. Funny how Sam hates Halloween, and Christmas, and pretty much any major holiday, and somehow has ended up with a girl who loves all of them.
“Send photos,” Dean calls over his shoulder as he heads to the sitting room to scoop up his bag and Jess drags Sam towards the bedroom.
“I am not sending pics of my girlfriend for you to perve over, Dean,” Sam calls back.
“I meant of you, Sammy. If Jess manages to get you dressed up, I sure as hell want to see it. Future blackmail fodder and all that.”
“Haha,” Sam says dryly, “I'm not-”
“Oh please,” Jess's voice cuts in. “It's so much more fun if you dress up!”
“Seriously? Dean, this is your fault!”
“You're welcome,” Dean grins. He takes one last look around Jess and Sam's apartment before he regretfully reaches for the door handle.
Soon, he tells himself. He'll see them again soon.
The End.