Come as You Are 2/6
Come as You Are
Summary: Unable to re-age Sam, Dean decides it's time to start hunting with his thirteen year old brother in tow. But things don't go according to plan. Sequel to Smells Like Teen Spirit.
Chapter Two
High school doesn't seem to have changed all that much since the first time Sam attended, other than the increase in computers and all the cellphones that the teachers are constantly confiscating from protesting students. Their prevalence makes Sam grateful that Dean had insisted on buying him a phone of his own, stating emphatically that a teenager without a cellphone would be weirder than most of the cases Dean has worked. At least half of it's functions are still a mystery to Sam - the last phone he had made phone calls, full stop - but at least he has something to fidget with while doing the typical new kid routine of sitting alone in the corner of the cafeteria while the rest of the students stare.
Sam settles into the background, feeling even more awkward and out of place than usual among kids who actually grew up in this decade, and tries to make subtle inquiries about local legends without making himself seem like a total weirdo. It's almost the way things used to be, back when they would roll into a town, chasing down Dad's monster of the month. Right down to Dean dropping Sam off at school in the mornings before heading off to follow leads and talk to witnesses. Only now, Dean is old enough to be Sam's father and, of course, Dad isn't here to work the case with them. Instead they're accompanied by an angel in a trench-coat who, Sam privately thinks, is so socially awkward that it's hard to imagine him being all that helpful to the process. Castiel says a lot of odd things and he has a way of holding himself so stiff and still, like he's not even breathing, that he tends to make people shift uncomfortably and cast about nervous glances as if searching for help, so Sam probably has an easier time getting information than Dean does.
The school is still buzzing with gossip about the most recent disappearance. Actually, Sam's problem is that there's so much information, most of it contradictory. The missing student was quiet and studious and would never disappear on purpose, but really, he was into drugs and parties and probably ran away, and also maybe he was murdered, or overdosed, or killed himself. The only thing everyone seems to agree on is the mysterious blonde girl he was seen with on the night he vanished, although only a few buy into the idea that she was the ghost of Allison Reed, the first name on the growing list of vanishing school students.
Luckily for Sam, one of those few is Yvonne Martin, a short dark-haired girl a year above him who is thrilled to find someone willing to take her seriously. She actively seeks Sam out in the hallways between classes or shows up by his locker at the end of the day, usually accompanied by one of her sighing, eye-rolling friends, and talks Sam's ear off about what she saw. She's a good source of informations and, seeing as she barely pauses for breath between sentences, Sam doesn't need to talk much, which he likes because it means she's less likely to notice anything off about him.
“I swear, she looked exactly the same as she does in the photo of her that's up in the gym.” Yvonne hops up and down the steps Sam's sitting on, out front of the school, as he awaits his ride after the final bell of the day.. She seems incapable of staying still and she uses her hands a lot as she talks. “Like, her hair was the same, and her face was the same, except, like, she was real pale-”
“Like, transparent pale?” Sam interjects quickly, before the unnecessarily long description of sameness continues.
Yvonne nods excitedly. “She definitely could have been! It was kind of hard to tell because they were across the football field, by those bleachers where everyone says she was buried, and it was sort of dark - because she only comes out in the dark, of course - but I am super sure it was her and she definitely might have been see-through, just like a real live ghost!”
“Wow,” Sam chimes in dutifully, hoping that he sounds suitably impressed.
Yvonne seems satisfied with the reaction. “My friend's brother Eli swears that he saw her, too, like, five years ago, right before this girl in his class disappeared. Everyone thought that she ran away to LA to try to be an actress 'cause she was this huge theatre geek and she was so pretty, but then no one ever heard from her again.” She pauses momentarily, twisting a strand of her hair thoughtfully around her finger. “Maybe Allison Reed is some sort of death omen. Do you think?”
Yvonne looks at Sam like she actually wants his opinion, which is unexpected and, thankfully, he's saved from answering by a familiar grumbling engine and the beep of a horn from across the parking lot.
“Is that your dad?” Yvonne asks, sounding impressed. Typical. Teenage girls always find Dean impressive, even now that he's ancient, apparently. “Or” - Yvonne looks closer at the Impala, squinting through the windscreen - “dads?”
Castiel is in the passenger seat.
“My brother,” Sam explains, shifting uncomfortably. It feels like a betrayal somehow, having Dean mistaken for his father. Like John Winchester is being erased. “And his...”
Actually, how is he supposed to explain Castiel? He can't say 'hunting partner' because that sounds crazy, or 'angel' because that sounds crazier, and Cas doesn't resemble either of them enough to pass as family.
“Friend,” Sam finishes lamely, which only serves as confirmation of Yvonne's theory. She nods conspiratorially.
“That's cool. My aunt, she's lived with this awesome lady named Gail all my life and I only realized last year that Gail is Auntie Pam's girlfriend! Talk about dense, right?”
Sam is inching backwards. “I gotta go.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow!” Yvonne smiles brightly.
Sam raises a hand in an awkward wave. “See ya.”
Yvonne sets off down the footpath, swinging her backpack in one hand, and Sam crosses the parking lot to the Impala, sliding into the backseat. He tries not to feel jealous of Castiel, sitting beside Dean in what is usually Sam's spot.
“Got a girlfriend already?” Dean asks, flashing a grin at Sam in the rear-view mirror as he pulls out onto the street.
Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes at the teasing. “She was just telling me that you and Cas make a cute couple,” he says instead, deadpan, which has the desired effect of making Dean choke on air, spluttering in surprise.
“That's not- We aren't-” Dean looks over at Castiel for back-up. Castiel looks back at him, unblinking.
“I am unaware of the parameters involved in defining a 'cute couple',” the angel states.
Sam has to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing out loud. He ducks behind a curtain of hair so Dean doesn't see him smirking.
“That's really unhelpful, Cas.” Dean clears his throat. “Did you set her straight? 'cause you know we're not, right, Sam? A couple, I mean. Not that there's anything wrong with that. With people being... a couple. That's fine. That's- whatever. But we're not. So, uh. Yeah.”
Dean sounds so hilariously uncomfortable that, of course, Sam arranges his face into an expression of surprise before he meets Dean's gaze in the rear-view.
“You're not?” he asks innocently, then sits back and lets Dean's stammering denials and increasingly insistent (probably exaggerated) stories of sexual exploits with women across the US entertain him for the rest of the drive.
XXX
They swap notes over a dinner of Chinese takeaways. Castiel doesn't eat but he sits with them at the motel table and interjects occasionally with his thoughts. Dean and the angel had spent the week interviewing the parents of missing children, a task that sounds both frustratingly fruitless and intensely distressing. The last thing any of the grieving parents wanted was to answer more questions, especially weird ones about cold spots and phantom smells, and those that did talk didn't know anything about what could have happened to their lost kids or why Dean and Cas were asking them questions about a random girl who had vanished over a decade ago. Obviously that girl couldn't be the same one seen with their child before their mysterious disappearance.
Sam relays everything Yvonne had told him about what she had witnessed the night of the most recent disappearance and the most consistent rumour involving Alison Reed dating an older man, maybe a teacher, who killed her and disposed of the body beneath the bleachers, which is pretty shaky evidence but it's more than Dean and Cas turned up so Sam can't help feeling pleased with himself.
“So, stake out at the high school tonight?” Sam asks, twirling up a forkful of noodles. “See if she shows up?”
He senses the change in his brother immediately. Suddenly, Dean is having trouble looking him in the eye but his jaw sets in grim determination, reminding Sam of Dad, right before he gives an order Sam won't like.
Dean swallows his mouthful of noodles. “I'll go with Cas. We can take care of it. You should stay here. Do your homework. Get some rest.”
Sam's mouth drops open. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Dean said that they would be partners on this hunt but he hasn't stopped side-eyeing Sam since they left the Men of Letters' bunker and Sam is certain that his expression implies a serious struggle with an urge to pack up and head back there, to tuck his littler-than-he-should-be brother away somewhere safe, along with all the other supernatural oddities that are kept down there. But Sam had let himself believe that Dean was going to take him seriously. After all, he's done everything his brother asked; ran every mile, struck every target, cleaned every stupid knife and gun and freaking crossbow.
“That's not fair!” Sam drops his fork, appetite soured. “We're supposed to be doing this together. You said!”
He looks to Castiel for support but the angel has become incredibly fascinated with a scratch on the table top and refuses to look up.
Dean visibly steels himself, sitting straighter, squaring his shoulders. “In case you haven't noticed, Sam, you're kind of the spirit's type,” he points out, infuriatingly reasonable.
Sam glowers. “In case you haven't noticed, Dean, I know how to use a shotgun.” Resentment builds behind his ribcage, hot and bitter. Did Dean ever actually intend to hunt with him or was it always the plan to ditch him at the motel and run off with Castiel? Was all that training just a giant waste of his time?
“It's a school night,” Dean says.
Unbelievable.
“I wasn't even enrolled in a school until last week!” Sam explodes. “You promised that if I trained we would hunt.”
“We are hunting!” Dean growls. “We're here, aren't we? You're checking the school for clues, witnesses-”
Sam snorts derisively. “Listening to gossip and rumours, you mean, and keeping out of the way while you and Cas do the real work.”
Castiel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing back and forth between them. Sam would be feel guilty for bringing Cas into it - he actually quite likes the strange celestial being - but right now he wishes Castiel was gone, back at the bunker or up in Heaven where things are 'complicated', whatever that means, or anywhere that isn't here, taking up the space that Sam is supposed to fill.
“Gossip and rumours are exactly what crack cases. Right, Cas?” Dean looks to Castiel, his narrowed eyes most definitely instructing the angel to agree with him.
Castiel squirms, made even more uncomfortable by Dean's request for back-up, but obediently he turns to Sam. “Gossip can be a useful source of information,” he says, apologetically.
“Exactly,” Dean says, as if this somehow wins the argument. He aggressively stabs a piece of pork. “So you do your part, and Cas and I will do ours.” He shoves the pork into his mouth and chews determinedly, deliberately ignoring Sam's glare. He gestures his fork at Sam's takeaway container. “Eat your dinner.”
Sam shoves his chair back instead, taking what small satisfaction he can in the obnoxiously loud scraping noise it makes against the floor and the slight wince it elicits from Dean.
“I'm not hungry,” he says icily, rising to his feet. He's so furious that he can hardly see straight. He wants to spin around and storm out of the motel room in a dramatic rage but there's no way Dean would let him leave - not at night, alone, with a spirit in town that targets teens - so he has to settle for stalking to the bathroom.
“Sam.” Dean calls after him. “Sam, come on-”
Sam slams the door behind him and flattens himself against it, as if physically holding it closed. He feels like punching something. Maybe Dean.
“Honestly,” Sam hears his brother say to Castiel, “that went better than I thought it would.”
Definitely Dean.
Chapter Three