Fic: Ordinary World | SPN | Sam & an OC | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: Ordinary World
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean, & Aubrey (an OC)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,716
Prompt: For my sis, who wanted something gen, with Sam running into old friends.
Summary: At first, Sam doesn’t recognize her.
Disclaimer: Kripke and CW own everything. I own nothing, darnit.
Author's Notes: Sorry this is so seriously late, sis! Turns out, I didn’t need to do much to finish it. *winces* This is a somewhat canon-free mish-mash, outside of a few references to past events, and possible past Sam/Brady.
Ordinary World
At first, Sam doesn't recognize her.
Just another face in a bar in the middle of nowhere, shooting pool with a couple of girlfriends and nursing a beer with calloused fingers. She could be anybody, everybody, nobody. Certainly no one warranting more than a passing glance.
Until she says his name, questioning, her head tilted like she recognizes him, but isn't quite sure. Then it all comes back in a flash, and Sam is transported all the way back to his junior year of high school, coming to a new school and a new chem class two months in and getting paired with the only kid that actually knew what she was doing.
“Aubrey?” he asks, mirroring her head tilt as he comes around the table he and Dean have been putzing around on-no hustling tonight, just letting off steam after their last hunt on a stop-over in Ohio-and props his cue against the nearest wall.
When her face lights up at the mutual recognition, she sweeps forward, beer still in hand, and wraps him in a bear hug that Sam returns enthusiastically; Aubrey was one of the few friends he had the year they spent in Cleveland.
“I can't believe it's you,” she says, drawing back to look him up and down. “Where the hell have you been all these years? And holy shit, you grew up nice!”
Sam can't help a minor blush at the compliment. “Went to college in California for a while,” he says, recovering quickly with a shrug and scrutinizing Aubrey in return. “Didn't work out like I thought, so I wound up in the family business.”
Aubrey visibly winces at that, and Sam remembers the weekend he spent hanging out with her and her folks after a bad fight with Dad. “That had to suck,” she offers sympathetically.
But it's been a long time since Sam felt anything like the deep loathing he once had for this life, so he just shrugs again. “Nah, not so much anymore. I mean, it's been hell at times-” he doesn't say literally, but certainly feels it searing his soul, “-but it's okay. I work with my brother, we travel a lot, and I don't have to work in a cubicle.”
A laugh, and Aubrey shakes her head, leaning back against a pool table and taking a swig off her beer. “You sure have changed, Sam.”
“You, too,” he says, and it's certainly true, considering he wouldn't have known it was her from sight alone. Last time he'd seen her, she was skinny and awkward and nearing five-ten, with thick glasses, a pale complexion, and a beaded braid in her mouse-brown hair. Now she's almost Dean's height, easily sixty pounds heavier-all muscle, judging by the way she holds herself-with no glasses, a blonde bob, and a tan that looks to have come naturally. “So what have you been up to?”
Giving him a mischievous look, she reaches behind her, the same way he and Dean might reach for a gun, and what she passes him from her back pocket shocks the heck out of him.
“You're a cop!?” he almost shouts, his eyebrows reaching straight up for his hairline as he hands her badge back to her. Sam doesn't know whether to run for the door, what with his and Dean's history with the fuzz, or to play it off like he just can't believe it, but somehow he lands on the latter, and that at least feels like an honest reaction.
“Six years now,” she returns, “I got a two-year degree in criminology, then got on with the Toledo PD. Made detective last fall. Come on,” Upending her beer as she stands straight, she waves him over to an empty booth, hitting the bar for another bottle on their way.
Sam signals for two, and grabs both bottles from the bartender, slipping a little holy water from a vial in his jacket pocket into hers just in case when she's not looking; as much as he's enjoying catching up with an old friend, he's seen just how many of his 'friends' were possessed all that time, and there's no way he wants another repeat of the Brady incident. He's been twitchy enough as it is, since she first called out his name.
Sliding into the booth opposite her, he looks up to find Dean already moving on to generally harassing Aubrey's friends, and doesn't spare him another thought.
“So, what's got you back in Ohio, then?” she asks before taking a swig off her fresh beer.
Sam waits to see that she doesn't sizzle from the holy water, and her eyes don't turn black-though in his mind, he can already see it, and he blinks away the vision before he can get too wrapped up in it-and then shrugs again, relieved. “Passing through. Had a job outside of Philly, and we're headed west to the next job.”
Aubrey nods. “You two always were wrapped up close, weren't you?”
And yeah, Sam realizes she remembers a lot more about him and Dean than he should be comfortable with, but he doesn't much care at this point. “I guess,” he answers with a small smile.
“What about your Dad?”
Sam freezes, his blood suddenly cold. It's not her fault, though; she can't have known.
Swallowing thickly, he answers, “He, um, passed away several years ago. Car versus semi.” And he watches the way her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, taking a long pull off his own beer to fill the heavily silent moment.
“I'm sorry.”
Another shrug, and he drops into a hunch that he won't ever admit he developed in high school so he wouldn't seem so big, letting his gaze fall on his beer bottle as he starts fiddling with the rippling edge of the label with his fingernails. “It's okay. Was a long time ago now, and we've got the business, still got family.” Even if Dean is the only one left.
Reaching across the worn table, she lays a hand on one of his and squeezes. “Still gotta suck, though.”
Sam can't help a short laugh at the utter honesty in that. “Yeah, yeah, it did. Does.”
And that's when he notices the metal band on her left ring finger, and his head pops up, his own mouth dropping open. “Are you married?” Jesus, he doesn't want to get in a fight with a jealous husband tonight; that's usually Dean's territory.
Aubrey laughs in a quick, deep burst at the comment, and turns to point back at the pool table. “See the brunette there?”
Sure enough, there's only one brunette at the pool table, a leggy girl that's also almost Dean's height, and she looks like she's about to rip his brother's arm off and flog him to death with it. “Uh, yeah.”
“That's Tara. Three years next month.”
“Wow,” is all Sam can get out at that point. He vaguely remembers Aubrey expressing an interest in the other side of the fence, but nothing beyond that. “Congrats!”
Aubrey lifts her beer and clinks it against his. “Thanks, man. I'm a lucky woman. 'Course, I don't see a ring on your finger. Married to the job?”
Sam nods just slightly. “More or less. I-” but he doesn't want to get into the subject of Jess. Or Madison. Or, well, any of the women he’s dated since high school. And sure as hell not Brady. That river’s entirely too deep to traverse tonight. Eventually he settles on the easy way out. “Life on the road doesn’t exactly lend itself well to long-term relationships, I guess,” he says with a shrug.
Her smile turning briefly to a frown, Aubrey lets out a breath. “Damn. I’m sorry things haven’t turned out like you were hoping, Sam.”
Another shrug, and Sam takes a long pull off his beer. It’d be easy to act like he’s disappointed by how his life has gone, but what would be the point? He knows all to well now just how screwed he was from the get-go. Learning that your whole life was shaped from a decade before your birth by a demon with designs on you tends to change your world view, he supposes. Finally, he says, “Nothing to be done about it now. But hey, it’s not all bad, even if things are hard sometimes.” Surprisingly, he realizes that that’s the truth. “Like I said, no cubicle.” Not counting that time as Sam Wesson, he remembers with a mental shudder. “No boss, no phones to answer. If we need a break from stuff, we just go. One time we took off to hit an Ozzy concert a couple states away. It’s pretty freeing.”
Aubrey shakes her head. “And here I’d figured all that time on the road with your brother would’ve driven you half-mad by now. You’re a tough one.”
Sam can’t help a barking laugh. “I didn’t say it didn’t. We’re at each other’s throats more often than not. He drives me up a wall so bad sometimes that I just want to throttle him.” He doesn’t mention all the knock-down drag-out fist fights they’ve had over the years, all the times they’ve gone their separate ways because they just couldn’t trust each other at the time. All that’s just the hazards of the job.
“I hear ya’,” Aubrey nods. “I’d probably want to throttle my own siblings if I had to spend so much time with ‘em. And Dean’s a special snowflake, for sure.”
A grin moves over Sam’s face. “I couldn’t have put it any better. Still-” Pausing, he realizes that things could’ve been a lot different, and he and his special snowflake of a brother have saved each other more times than they could probably count, even if they do drive each other nuts half the time. “I don’t think I’d want him any other way. He keeps me on my toes,” he finally says.
Aubrey smiles back, and lifts her beer. “Well, here’s to crazy awesome family,” she says.
Sam clinks his bottle against hers and says, “And to the normal life.” Even if he probably couldn’t even stomach it anymore. The ordinary world never really was his.
“And the not-so-normal life,” Aubrey adds with a mischievous look.
Smiling again, Sam finds himself glad that he ran into his old friend, glad for the touch of perspective she’s given him tonight.
Glad to see that at least something-someone-left behind them has turned out okay.
“Hear, hear.”
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean, & Aubrey (an OC)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,716
Prompt: For my sis, who wanted something gen, with Sam running into old friends.
Summary: At first, Sam doesn’t recognize her.
Disclaimer: Kripke and CW own everything. I own nothing, darnit.
Author's Notes: Sorry this is so seriously late, sis! Turns out, I didn’t need to do much to finish it. *winces* This is a somewhat canon-free mish-mash, outside of a few references to past events, and possible past Sam/Brady.
Ordinary World
At first, Sam doesn't recognize her.
Just another face in a bar in the middle of nowhere, shooting pool with a couple of girlfriends and nursing a beer with calloused fingers. She could be anybody, everybody, nobody. Certainly no one warranting more than a passing glance.
Until she says his name, questioning, her head tilted like she recognizes him, but isn't quite sure. Then it all comes back in a flash, and Sam is transported all the way back to his junior year of high school, coming to a new school and a new chem class two months in and getting paired with the only kid that actually knew what she was doing.
“Aubrey?” he asks, mirroring her head tilt as he comes around the table he and Dean have been putzing around on-no hustling tonight, just letting off steam after their last hunt on a stop-over in Ohio-and props his cue against the nearest wall.
When her face lights up at the mutual recognition, she sweeps forward, beer still in hand, and wraps him in a bear hug that Sam returns enthusiastically; Aubrey was one of the few friends he had the year they spent in Cleveland.
“I can't believe it's you,” she says, drawing back to look him up and down. “Where the hell have you been all these years? And holy shit, you grew up nice!”
Sam can't help a minor blush at the compliment. “Went to college in California for a while,” he says, recovering quickly with a shrug and scrutinizing Aubrey in return. “Didn't work out like I thought, so I wound up in the family business.”
Aubrey visibly winces at that, and Sam remembers the weekend he spent hanging out with her and her folks after a bad fight with Dad. “That had to suck,” she offers sympathetically.
But it's been a long time since Sam felt anything like the deep loathing he once had for this life, so he just shrugs again. “Nah, not so much anymore. I mean, it's been hell at times-” he doesn't say literally, but certainly feels it searing his soul, “-but it's okay. I work with my brother, we travel a lot, and I don't have to work in a cubicle.”
A laugh, and Aubrey shakes her head, leaning back against a pool table and taking a swig off her beer. “You sure have changed, Sam.”
“You, too,” he says, and it's certainly true, considering he wouldn't have known it was her from sight alone. Last time he'd seen her, she was skinny and awkward and nearing five-ten, with thick glasses, a pale complexion, and a beaded braid in her mouse-brown hair. Now she's almost Dean's height, easily sixty pounds heavier-all muscle, judging by the way she holds herself-with no glasses, a blonde bob, and a tan that looks to have come naturally. “So what have you been up to?”
Giving him a mischievous look, she reaches behind her, the same way he and Dean might reach for a gun, and what she passes him from her back pocket shocks the heck out of him.
“You're a cop!?” he almost shouts, his eyebrows reaching straight up for his hairline as he hands her badge back to her. Sam doesn't know whether to run for the door, what with his and Dean's history with the fuzz, or to play it off like he just can't believe it, but somehow he lands on the latter, and that at least feels like an honest reaction.
“Six years now,” she returns, “I got a two-year degree in criminology, then got on with the Toledo PD. Made detective last fall. Come on,” Upending her beer as she stands straight, she waves him over to an empty booth, hitting the bar for another bottle on their way.
Sam signals for two, and grabs both bottles from the bartender, slipping a little holy water from a vial in his jacket pocket into hers just in case when she's not looking; as much as he's enjoying catching up with an old friend, he's seen just how many of his 'friends' were possessed all that time, and there's no way he wants another repeat of the Brady incident. He's been twitchy enough as it is, since she first called out his name.
Sliding into the booth opposite her, he looks up to find Dean already moving on to generally harassing Aubrey's friends, and doesn't spare him another thought.
“So, what's got you back in Ohio, then?” she asks before taking a swig off her fresh beer.
Sam waits to see that she doesn't sizzle from the holy water, and her eyes don't turn black-though in his mind, he can already see it, and he blinks away the vision before he can get too wrapped up in it-and then shrugs again, relieved. “Passing through. Had a job outside of Philly, and we're headed west to the next job.”
Aubrey nods. “You two always were wrapped up close, weren't you?”
And yeah, Sam realizes she remembers a lot more about him and Dean than he should be comfortable with, but he doesn't much care at this point. “I guess,” he answers with a small smile.
“What about your Dad?”
Sam freezes, his blood suddenly cold. It's not her fault, though; she can't have known.
Swallowing thickly, he answers, “He, um, passed away several years ago. Car versus semi.” And he watches the way her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, taking a long pull off his own beer to fill the heavily silent moment.
“I'm sorry.”
Another shrug, and he drops into a hunch that he won't ever admit he developed in high school so he wouldn't seem so big, letting his gaze fall on his beer bottle as he starts fiddling with the rippling edge of the label with his fingernails. “It's okay. Was a long time ago now, and we've got the business, still got family.” Even if Dean is the only one left.
Reaching across the worn table, she lays a hand on one of his and squeezes. “Still gotta suck, though.”
Sam can't help a short laugh at the utter honesty in that. “Yeah, yeah, it did. Does.”
And that's when he notices the metal band on her left ring finger, and his head pops up, his own mouth dropping open. “Are you married?” Jesus, he doesn't want to get in a fight with a jealous husband tonight; that's usually Dean's territory.
Aubrey laughs in a quick, deep burst at the comment, and turns to point back at the pool table. “See the brunette there?”
Sure enough, there's only one brunette at the pool table, a leggy girl that's also almost Dean's height, and she looks like she's about to rip his brother's arm off and flog him to death with it. “Uh, yeah.”
“That's Tara. Three years next month.”
“Wow,” is all Sam can get out at that point. He vaguely remembers Aubrey expressing an interest in the other side of the fence, but nothing beyond that. “Congrats!”
Aubrey lifts her beer and clinks it against his. “Thanks, man. I'm a lucky woman. 'Course, I don't see a ring on your finger. Married to the job?”
Sam nods just slightly. “More or less. I-” but he doesn't want to get into the subject of Jess. Or Madison. Or, well, any of the women he’s dated since high school. And sure as hell not Brady. That river’s entirely too deep to traverse tonight. Eventually he settles on the easy way out. “Life on the road doesn’t exactly lend itself well to long-term relationships, I guess,” he says with a shrug.
Her smile turning briefly to a frown, Aubrey lets out a breath. “Damn. I’m sorry things haven’t turned out like you were hoping, Sam.”
Another shrug, and Sam takes a long pull off his beer. It’d be easy to act like he’s disappointed by how his life has gone, but what would be the point? He knows all to well now just how screwed he was from the get-go. Learning that your whole life was shaped from a decade before your birth by a demon with designs on you tends to change your world view, he supposes. Finally, he says, “Nothing to be done about it now. But hey, it’s not all bad, even if things are hard sometimes.” Surprisingly, he realizes that that’s the truth. “Like I said, no cubicle.” Not counting that time as Sam Wesson, he remembers with a mental shudder. “No boss, no phones to answer. If we need a break from stuff, we just go. One time we took off to hit an Ozzy concert a couple states away. It’s pretty freeing.”
Aubrey shakes her head. “And here I’d figured all that time on the road with your brother would’ve driven you half-mad by now. You’re a tough one.”
Sam can’t help a barking laugh. “I didn’t say it didn’t. We’re at each other’s throats more often than not. He drives me up a wall so bad sometimes that I just want to throttle him.” He doesn’t mention all the knock-down drag-out fist fights they’ve had over the years, all the times they’ve gone their separate ways because they just couldn’t trust each other at the time. All that’s just the hazards of the job.
“I hear ya’,” Aubrey nods. “I’d probably want to throttle my own siblings if I had to spend so much time with ‘em. And Dean’s a special snowflake, for sure.”
A grin moves over Sam’s face. “I couldn’t have put it any better. Still-” Pausing, he realizes that things could’ve been a lot different, and he and his special snowflake of a brother have saved each other more times than they could probably count, even if they do drive each other nuts half the time. “I don’t think I’d want him any other way. He keeps me on my toes,” he finally says.
Aubrey smiles back, and lifts her beer. “Well, here’s to crazy awesome family,” she says.
Sam clinks his bottle against hers and says, “And to the normal life.” Even if he probably couldn’t even stomach it anymore. The ordinary world never really was his.
“And the not-so-normal life,” Aubrey adds with a mischievous look.
Smiling again, Sam finds himself glad that he ran into his old friend, glad for the touch of perspective she’s given him tonight.
Glad to see that at least something-someone-left behind them has turned out okay.
“Hear, hear.”
~*~*~*~