Someone Else's Story 7/11
Title: Someone Else’s Story
Part: 7/? - Year Seven
Author: Miss ‘Drea
Rating: NC-17 (probably, eventually)
Parings/Characters: Sam/Dean (eventually), Dean/Crowley, Sam/Jim Novak (Castiel).
Word Count: ~3000
Summary: AU - John gives the boys up for adoption, and at an early age Dean and Sam are separated then later adopted into two different families, in two different states. By a chance of Fate (whose name is Castiel) the two brothers find each other - Sam’s in 10th grade, the youngest in his class having skipped several grades, and Dean, also in 10th grade is his ‘penpal’. Dean thinks the whole thing is dumb, Sam’s just glad to have a friend.
WARNINGS: Most of the art is NSFW. Please beware. Also, like the last chapter there is some dealing with suicide as a practical application of and the aftermath of.
*
Year Seven
October 1st 2000 - January 1st 2001
*
*
*
Phone rings.
“Yeah?”
“Is that anyway to answer the phone, Sammy?”
Smiling. “Dean!”
“So, I have two things, real quick. The first is this, do you have a cell phone yet?”
“Yet? Like you have one already?”
“Yup! 752-555-7241. Write it down and don’t lose it!”
“Okay, okay...” scribbles. “So what was the second thing?”
Sudden quiet. “Look, I have something to tell you okay? It’s not... you won’t like it.”
Frowning. “Um. You’re not like, going to tell me that you hate me?”
“No!”
“That you’re dying?”
“No.”
“That you’re moving to Timbuktu?”
“Uh, no.”
“Okay then.” Grinning. “So the odds that whatever you have to say will incur my wrath is relatively slim.”
Dryly. “It’s not your wrath I’m worried about.”
Snorts. “Queen, please.”
Laughter.
“Um. It’s just that...you know that I...you know what? Never mind. I got to run, talk to you later, text me when you get that cell phone. Bye, Sammy.”
Click.
Baffled. “What the hell was that about?”
*
*
Phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Sam! Thank God, I wasn’t sure you were going to pick up the phone.”
“Um, why not? Dean? Is everything okay?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news?”
“No...today I had no class so I’ve been studying for my Calculus Exam. Why?”
“There’s been a terrorist attack.”
Startles. “What? Where?”
“On the twin towers, you know, in New York City? And the pentagon and there might have been a third one but it failed. There’s like, a super warning on TV for big places. Like...universities.”
“Shit, I didn’t have my TV on, and no one came to tell me.”
“Look, check in with me every hour okay? Because if they have to evacuate you, you come here. You got that, Sammy?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Pause. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Everyone is freaking out though. I mean, shit, a terrorist attack.”
“How the hell did it happen?”
“From what I can tell from the news, a plane flew into one of the twin towers and the pentagon. Another one went down in Pennsylvania. Apparently the passengers took back that plane. They’re evacuating and shit Sam, people are jumping off the towers, like that’s their only option.”
“Damn it...” Quietly “Glad I didn’t decide to go to NYU after all...”
“Shut up Sam, don’t even joke!”
“I’m fine, Dean. I’ll call you in an hour okay?”
“Be safe.”
Click.
*
*
*
“So how are things, Samuel?”
“Oh for, it’s Sam, for the millionth time, Jim. You manage to remember when your cock is up my ass but not on the phone.”
Clears throat. “Yes, well... things are a little less formal then.”
“You’re never formal.”
“And you’re embarrassing me, so stop.”
Grins. “Sorry, Jim. What’s up?”
“I wanted you to know, I’m going out of state soon. I have to make a few trips before heading to Detroit.”
Frowns. “How long will you be gone?”
“About two weeks, I think. Less if everything goes well.”
“Is this the conference thing that you were telling me about last week?”
“Yes.”
Long sigh. “I’m going to miss you. Who else am I going to call when things get rough?”
Amused. “Dean, maybe?”
“Would you stop pushing that please?” Grumble. “I could always call Zak.”
“Zak?”
“Yeah, Zachariah Webb, my former therapist. I haven’t talked to him much, he was really disappointed in Dr. Anderson, and took care of that whole thing for me.”
“Where did you meet this doctor?”
Pause. “The Brien Center at Pittsfield on South St.”
“Huh. Zak. That’s very interesting.” Short pause. “Okay, Short Time, I’ll call you when I get to Dallas. It’s my first stop.”
“I’m not short, Jim!”
“Say hi to Dean for me.”
Click.
*
*
413-841-9281: dean! Its sam. Got the phone.
Dean: Welcome to the modern age.
Sammy: ha ha very funny
Dean: so whats up? U in class?
Sammy: yes.
Dean: u rebel u
Sammy: im way in back.
Dean: cause ur a fukin giant
Sammy: nooo so I can text u
Dean: didnt know u cared sunshine
Sammy: moron
Dean: what class?
Sammy: ethics of law in modern history
Dean: snore
Sammy: pretty much
Dean: when u get out?
Sammy: 1 hr
Dean: gag
Sammy: yup
Dean: call me when ur out?
Sammy: kk
*
*
Phone rings.
“Hey Sammy.”
Crunches. “Hey Dean.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yeah. It’s lunch time.”
“Dude, it’s like, 2.”
“Dude, I’m like, 2 hours behind you.”
Grumbles. “You’re an ass.”
“So what’s up?”
“Nothing, what do you mean what’s up?”
“Uh, Dean, you told me to call you.”
“Oh. Right. I don’t know, I just miss you, I guess.”
“You should come up here for my birthday.”
“That’s in a week...Maybe Walter would give me the days off...”
“You should find out and come celebrate with me. I’m going to be twenty, you know.”
“I know, which makes me 24 so shut it.”
“Okay, okay old man.”
“Sammy, I will hang up this phone.”
“And be deprived of my voice and stunning personality?”
“Good bye Sammy.”
“Hey!”
“What?”
“You never told me what you wanted.”
“Um. Nothing. Just wanted to say hi.”
Confused. “Okay. Don’t tell me then.”
Groans. “Aw, Sam, come on. Don’t be mad.”
“Not mad, just confused.” Softly. “Is it bad? Is that why you don’t want to tell me?”
“No Sam...it’s not bad. I just...it’s hard okay? I’ll work up to it.”
Pause.
“Okay. I’ll let you go then. Text me later?”
Smiles. “Yeah, Sammy. I will.”
Click.
“Shit, Sam. I think I love you.”
*
*
“This is Dr. Webb.”
“Hey Zak, it’s Sam.”
Surprised. “Sam, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you ever again after what happened with Riesel. I had no idea she felt that way, and I really can’t apologize enough.”
“Meh, whatever. I got over it.” Pause. “I’m calling because I really need someone to talk to.”
A little awed. “And you chose me?”
“Well who else would I choose?”
“Dean?”
Laughs. “You’re the second person who’s said that and funny but the idiot is totally avoiding me because there’s something he wants to tell me and won’t.”
“Is it serious?”
“Fuck if I know.”
Contemplating. “So what could be bad enough that he can’t even tell you?”
“Don’t know. I asked if he was dying, he said no. I asked if he changed his mind about hating me, he said no. I asked if he was going some place far away and he said no. I’m at a loss, and the guy I’ve been talking to in Dr. Anderson’s stead had to go on a trip for 2 weeks.”
“Guy you’ve been talking to?”
“Yes. His name is Jim Novak.”
Sharp inhale. “Novak?”
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard of him. One of the brothers in arms...” clears throat. “You picked a good one Sam. Stick with him.”
Confused. “Why do I feel like I missed something?”
“It’s nothing, Sam. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I wasn’t, for a while. I...can I tell you something, even though you’re not my therapist anymore?”
Softly. “Of course you can, Sam.”
“I tried to kill myself, last year. I had already made the cuts in my right arm, you know? Then I freaked out, called Dean. Talking to him helped, and I managed to patch myself up and now I’ve got scars, but you know...I might have actually done it, if I hadn’t called Dean that night.” Snorts. “I got blood all over my sketch pad, I had to start another.”
“Oh Sam. I’m so sorry.”
Soft laugh. “Don’t be sorry Zak, it wasn’t like it was your intention.”
“No...not mine.” Pause. “How are you now? Does Dean know?”
“I’m okay. Dealing. Dean doesn’t know. Dean will never know if I have anything to say about it. I just...Jim doesn’t get it, not really. It’s almost like he’s an automaton, you know?”
Laughs. “Yes, I know.”
“Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’m okay. And to say thanks. Because, without you, I would never have...I wouldn’t be me today.”
“I...thank you Sam.”
Clicks.
“...For putting things in perspective for me.”
*
*
“Son of a bitch! Where the hell are they?!”
Phone rings.
“Yeah, what?”
“Is that any way to talk to someone you haven’t seen in a few days?”
“Jim! You might know where it is.”
“Where what is?”
“Where the pages for the LGBT Newspaper are? The ones I did for August’s issue? I had my copy on my desk before you left last, but then I don’t know, I had notes all over the place, but I can’t find them and one of the group wants a copy.”
“The pages you did...had the picture you painted of your arm, and Dean and the boy with the jeans? The one where you said you loved your best friend?”
“Jim! You were there for most of those drawing sessions!”
“Oh those...”
Pause. “I don’t like that tone, Jim.”
“I sent them to Dean.”
“What?!”
Dryly. “And the one whose cock is up your ass, I feel that it’s my duty to send the man whose cock should be up your ass the pages that would make that happen. Good luck, Samuel. I wish you well. I’ll figure this out sooner or later.”
“Figure what out?”
“How to wake you up.”
“What?”
“Good bye, Samuel.”
Click.
*
*
Phone rings.
“...Hello?”
“Hey Sammy. Can we talk about something for a second?”
Quietly. “Sure, Dean. What did you want to talk about?”
“How about the fact that you’re in love with me?”
*End
TBC:
Year Eight
January 24th 2002 - December 24th 2003
Part: 7/? - Year Seven
Author: Miss ‘Drea
Rating: NC-17 (probably, eventually)
Parings/Characters: Sam/Dean (eventually), Dean/Crowley, Sam/Jim Novak (Castiel).
Word Count: ~3000
Summary: AU - John gives the boys up for adoption, and at an early age Dean and Sam are separated then later adopted into two different families, in two different states. By a chance of Fate (whose name is Castiel) the two brothers find each other - Sam’s in 10th grade, the youngest in his class having skipped several grades, and Dean, also in 10th grade is his ‘penpal’. Dean thinks the whole thing is dumb, Sam’s just glad to have a friend.
WARNINGS: Most of the art is NSFW. Please beware. Also, like the last chapter there is some dealing with suicide as a practical application of and the aftermath of.
*
Year Seven
October 1st 2000 - January 1st 2001
*
*
*
Phone rings.
“Yeah?”
“Is that anyway to answer the phone, Sammy?”
Smiling. “Dean!”
“So, I have two things, real quick. The first is this, do you have a cell phone yet?”
“Yet? Like you have one already?”
“Yup! 752-555-7241. Write it down and don’t lose it!”
“Okay, okay...” scribbles. “So what was the second thing?”
Sudden quiet. “Look, I have something to tell you okay? It’s not... you won’t like it.”
Frowning. “Um. You’re not like, going to tell me that you hate me?”
“No!”
“That you’re dying?”
“No.”
“That you’re moving to Timbuktu?”
“Uh, no.”
“Okay then.” Grinning. “So the odds that whatever you have to say will incur my wrath is relatively slim.”
Dryly. “It’s not your wrath I’m worried about.”
Snorts. “Queen, please.”
Laughter.
“Um. It’s just that...you know that I...you know what? Never mind. I got to run, talk to you later, text me when you get that cell phone. Bye, Sammy.”
Click.
Baffled. “What the hell was that about?”
*
*
Phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Sam! Thank God, I wasn’t sure you were going to pick up the phone.”
“Um, why not? Dean? Is everything okay?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news?”
“No...today I had no class so I’ve been studying for my Calculus Exam. Why?”
“There’s been a terrorist attack.”
Startles. “What? Where?”
“On the twin towers, you know, in New York City? And the pentagon and there might have been a third one but it failed. There’s like, a super warning on TV for big places. Like...universities.”
“Shit, I didn’t have my TV on, and no one came to tell me.”
“Look, check in with me every hour okay? Because if they have to evacuate you, you come here. You got that, Sammy?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Pause. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Everyone is freaking out though. I mean, shit, a terrorist attack.”
“How the hell did it happen?”
“From what I can tell from the news, a plane flew into one of the twin towers and the pentagon. Another one went down in Pennsylvania. Apparently the passengers took back that plane. They’re evacuating and shit Sam, people are jumping off the towers, like that’s their only option.”
“Damn it...” Quietly “Glad I didn’t decide to go to NYU after all...”
“Shut up Sam, don’t even joke!”
“I’m fine, Dean. I’ll call you in an hour okay?”
“Be safe.”
Click.
*
*
*
“So how are things, Samuel?”
“Oh for, it’s Sam, for the millionth time, Jim. You manage to remember when your cock is up my ass but not on the phone.”
Clears throat. “Yes, well... things are a little less formal then.”
“You’re never formal.”
“And you’re embarrassing me, so stop.”
Grins. “Sorry, Jim. What’s up?”
“I wanted you to know, I’m going out of state soon. I have to make a few trips before heading to Detroit.”
Frowns. “How long will you be gone?”
“About two weeks, I think. Less if everything goes well.”
“Is this the conference thing that you were telling me about last week?”
“Yes.”
Long sigh. “I’m going to miss you. Who else am I going to call when things get rough?”
Amused. “Dean, maybe?”
“Would you stop pushing that please?” Grumble. “I could always call Zak.”
“Zak?”
“Yeah, Zachariah Webb, my former therapist. I haven’t talked to him much, he was really disappointed in Dr. Anderson, and took care of that whole thing for me.”
“Where did you meet this doctor?”
Pause. “The Brien Center at Pittsfield on South St.”
“Huh. Zak. That’s very interesting.” Short pause. “Okay, Short Time, I’ll call you when I get to Dallas. It’s my first stop.”
“I’m not short, Jim!”
“Say hi to Dean for me.”
Click.
*
*
413-841-9281: dean! Its sam. Got the phone.
Dean: Welcome to the modern age.
Sammy: ha ha very funny
Dean: so whats up? U in class?
Sammy: yes.
Dean: u rebel u
Sammy: im way in back.
Dean: cause ur a fukin giant
Sammy: nooo so I can text u
Dean: didnt know u cared sunshine
Sammy: moron
Dean: what class?
Sammy: ethics of law in modern history
Dean: snore
Sammy: pretty much
Dean: when u get out?
Sammy: 1 hr
Dean: gag
Sammy: yup
Dean: call me when ur out?
Sammy: kk
*
*
Phone rings.
“Hey Sammy.”
Crunches. “Hey Dean.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yeah. It’s lunch time.”
“Dude, it’s like, 2.”
“Dude, I’m like, 2 hours behind you.”
Grumbles. “You’re an ass.”
“So what’s up?”
“Nothing, what do you mean what’s up?”
“Uh, Dean, you told me to call you.”
“Oh. Right. I don’t know, I just miss you, I guess.”
“You should come up here for my birthday.”
“That’s in a week...Maybe Walter would give me the days off...”
“You should find out and come celebrate with me. I’m going to be twenty, you know.”
“I know, which makes me 24 so shut it.”
“Okay, okay old man.”
“Sammy, I will hang up this phone.”
“And be deprived of my voice and stunning personality?”
“Good bye Sammy.”
“Hey!”
“What?”
“You never told me what you wanted.”
“Um. Nothing. Just wanted to say hi.”
Confused. “Okay. Don’t tell me then.”
Groans. “Aw, Sam, come on. Don’t be mad.”
“Not mad, just confused.” Softly. “Is it bad? Is that why you don’t want to tell me?”
“No Sam...it’s not bad. I just...it’s hard okay? I’ll work up to it.”
Pause.
“Okay. I’ll let you go then. Text me later?”
Smiles. “Yeah, Sammy. I will.”
Click.
“Shit, Sam. I think I love you.”
*
*
“This is Dr. Webb.”
“Hey Zak, it’s Sam.”
Surprised. “Sam, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you ever again after what happened with Riesel. I had no idea she felt that way, and I really can’t apologize enough.”
“Meh, whatever. I got over it.” Pause. “I’m calling because I really need someone to talk to.”
A little awed. “And you chose me?”
“Well who else would I choose?”
“Dean?”
Laughs. “You’re the second person who’s said that and funny but the idiot is totally avoiding me because there’s something he wants to tell me and won’t.”
“Is it serious?”
“Fuck if I know.”
Contemplating. “So what could be bad enough that he can’t even tell you?”
“Don’t know. I asked if he was dying, he said no. I asked if he changed his mind about hating me, he said no. I asked if he was going some place far away and he said no. I’m at a loss, and the guy I’ve been talking to in Dr. Anderson’s stead had to go on a trip for 2 weeks.”
“Guy you’ve been talking to?”
“Yes. His name is Jim Novak.”
Sharp inhale. “Novak?”
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard of him. One of the brothers in arms...” clears throat. “You picked a good one Sam. Stick with him.”
Confused. “Why do I feel like I missed something?”
“It’s nothing, Sam. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I wasn’t, for a while. I...can I tell you something, even though you’re not my therapist anymore?”
Softly. “Of course you can, Sam.”
“I tried to kill myself, last year. I had already made the cuts in my right arm, you know? Then I freaked out, called Dean. Talking to him helped, and I managed to patch myself up and now I’ve got scars, but you know...I might have actually done it, if I hadn’t called Dean that night.” Snorts. “I got blood all over my sketch pad, I had to start another.”
“Oh Sam. I’m so sorry.”
Soft laugh. “Don’t be sorry Zak, it wasn’t like it was your intention.”
“No...not mine.” Pause. “How are you now? Does Dean know?”
“I’m okay. Dealing. Dean doesn’t know. Dean will never know if I have anything to say about it. I just...Jim doesn’t get it, not really. It’s almost like he’s an automaton, you know?”
Laughs. “Yes, I know.”
“Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’m okay. And to say thanks. Because, without you, I would never have...I wouldn’t be me today.”
“I...thank you Sam.”
Clicks.
“...For putting things in perspective for me.”
*
*
“Son of a bitch! Where the hell are they?!”
Phone rings.
“Yeah, what?”
“Is that any way to talk to someone you haven’t seen in a few days?”
“Jim! You might know where it is.”
“Where what is?”
“Where the pages for the LGBT Newspaper are? The ones I did for August’s issue? I had my copy on my desk before you left last, but then I don’t know, I had notes all over the place, but I can’t find them and one of the group wants a copy.”
“The pages you did...had the picture you painted of your arm, and Dean and the boy with the jeans? The one where you said you loved your best friend?”
“Jim! You were there for most of those drawing sessions!”
“Oh those...”
Pause. “I don’t like that tone, Jim.”
“I sent them to Dean.”
“What?!”
Dryly. “And the one whose cock is up your ass, I feel that it’s my duty to send the man whose cock should be up your ass the pages that would make that happen. Good luck, Samuel. I wish you well. I’ll figure this out sooner or later.”
“Figure what out?”
“How to wake you up.”
“What?”
“Good bye, Samuel.”
Click.
*
*
Phone rings.
“...Hello?”
“Hey Sammy. Can we talk about something for a second?”
Quietly. “Sure, Dean. What did you want to talk about?”
“How about the fact that you’re in love with me?”
*End
TBC:
Year Eight
January 24th 2002 - December 24th 2003