Fic: Distant Relations (18/20)
Title: Distant Relations (18/20)
Author: sierraphoenix
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural
Pairings/Characters: No pairings. Xander, Dean, Sam.
Summary: Xander learns the truth about his parentage and must decide whether or not to seek out his real father.
Previous Chapters: Livejournal | Twisting the Hellmouth | Supernaturally Twisted | My Website
Thanks to Lisette for beta-ing and the extra help rescuing my Sam!
Artwork by kaylashay81. For more, visit Artistic Collections.
*****
It was late afternoon by the time the brothers loaded up the Impala - pink laundry and all - and left another sleepy town in their wake. The first half-hour was filled with Dean's gloating, secure in his rank of Prank Master, while the two younger brothers offered up token complaints about the new shade of their clothing and shared glances that held the promise of retaliation. Eventually the conversation lulled, leaving them in a surprisingly comfortable silence broken only when Dean popped one of his favorites tapes into the tape deck.
Xander stared out the backseat window, watching American landscapes blur past, content to relax and just listen to the music as the miles rolled by. He had to admit that Dean's musical taste was starting to grow on him a little. A couple of the songs were developing a familiarity, and Xander even found himself humming along at times. It was hard to believe that they had first met less than a week ago. Xander felt almost as comfortable with them as he did hanging out with Buffy and Willow. Slouched down in the Impala's backseat, with Chester sprawled alongside and chewing absently on the edge of his shirttail, Xander felt like he belonged there.
Maybe demon-slaying really did have a way of bringing people closer together. And how wild of a coincidence was that? Xander had traveled so far to seek out some distant relations and then to find that they knew about demons, too, hunted them even. It was almost like fate. After spending years feeling like an outcast in his own home, it was nice to finally have some family that he had something in common with and - if he wasn't misreading things - might actually want him there.
Allowing his emotions to show on his face, Xander favored Chester with a loopy smile and patted him on the back. Chester, easily distracted, tried to tackle his hand which only caused him to tumble headfirst into Xander's lap. The pup continued crawling over Xander's legs, letting his curiosity lead him to the window. He was just barely big enough to stand on his hind legs and peer out, but Xander lifted him up a few more inches to get a better view.
"Checking out the next town?" Xander asked the dog rhetorically, glancing out the window himself. They had been on the road for only three hours, but they had left late enough that dusk was already fast approaching. The town's streetlights were already flickering on in places and the neon 'vacancy' sign of a motel glowed brightly up ahead.
Xander was just as surprised as Sam when they pulled into the motel's parking lot.
"We're stopping already?" Sam queried.
Wanting to be more involved in the conversation, Xander leaned over the seat, squeezing in between Sam and Dean just as Dean threw the car into park and looked over at the both of them with a sly grin.
"Looks like the kind of town that would have a bar somewhere," Dean observed. "Figured we could test out Xander's new pool skills and hustle us up some more cash."
"Dean," Sam started, and Xander turned to look at him when he heard the ire in his voice. "Do you really think it's necessary to start teaching Xander all of your bad habits?"
"What do you mean, 'bad habits'?" Dean asked, offended, causing Xander's gaze to swing left. "It's just a - what do you call it? - a rite of passage."
Xander glanced right again as Sam threw out another retort, "And what's next? Credit card fraud?"
"Easy, Sammy, you have work up to these things," Dean stated, as if Sam had voiced an honest suggestion. "Can't go dumping everything on him at once."
By now Xander was beginning to feel like a spectator at a ping pong match. Half of him really wanted to go out with Dean and try his hand at hustling while the other half was worried about disappointing Sam. He really didn't want to be caught in the middle. Even worse, what if he did go with Dean and it turned out that he wasn't nearly as skilled at pool at Dean seemed to think he was.
"You know, Dean, just because you have an aversion to making an honest living doesn't necessarily mean that the rest of us-"
"It doesn't hurt to have a few extra skills just in case Xander finds himself in a tight pinch and-"
"Right, because hustling in bars and petty theft can really improve even the worst situations-"
"It might! Even you have to agree that it's always good to have a fallback plan."
"Sure, but I don't think-"
"I'll go get the room key," Dean stated, bolting from the car before Sam could finish his argument.
Sam sighed heavily and turned to Xander with an imploring look that the younger man wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Xander shrugged and put on his most 'I'm innocent' expression. From the look that crossed Sam's face, Xander figured he bought that innocent expression about as much as Willow would have.
"Dean will drag you into a whole heap of trouble if you let him; believe me, I know," Sam said, appealing to his common sense.
But unfortunately, Xander's common sense was always hit or miss, and he really kind of wanted to see if his skills could hold up next to Dean's. He did have an idea, though, on how to make this all seem a little more appealing to Sam. "On the other hand, if Dean and I are out somewhere, you'd probably have to stay here at the motel and keep an eye on Chester…and Dean's stuff," Xander put emphasis on the last bit. "I'm sure he wouldn't want anything to happen to his clothes while he's out."
Sam, always a quick study, caught on immediately. "We can't go for the clothes, though, it's too obvious. It's got to be something new…and something that will really get Dean this time."
Xander was almost a little worried by the evil gleam in Sam's eyes. He was glad the intelligent man was on his side because he never wanted to know what it would be like on the receiving end of that, especially when Sam's mouth slid into a downright malicious grin.
"I've got an idea," Sam said brightly, that evil gleam in his eyes kicking up a notch.
This was a new side of Sam, Xander thought, eyeing him apprehensively. "Do I even want to know?" Their revenge would be short-lived if Dean ended up killing them over this.
"Actually, it's probably best if you don't. Dean's like a dog with a bone; if he suspects something's up, he'll pry it out of you before the night is over."
Xander decided not to take offense since he suspected Sam's response had more to do with Dean's stubborn tendencies than any lack of faith in Xander's ability to keep a secret, and Xander rather agreed with the sentiment. Under Dean's scrutiny, Xander wasn't sure he wouldn't crack like a walnut at the first sign of pressure.
Chester's yelping at the window alerted them to Dean's return, and after sharing a quick, knowing look with Sam, Xander slouched back in his seat, doing his best to appear casual.
Dean opened the car door and dropped into the seat, pulling the car around closer to their room and giving Sam a resolved look that Xander thought would have done Willow proud. "Now look, you can sulk all you want, but we're-"
"You guys go ahead," Sam cut in. "I figure without you stuck in the room bitching about how bored you are, I might actually be able to finish the translation for that spell."
Dean's mouth gaped open for a second longer, obviously not having expected to win so easily. Then he snapped his mouth closed, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I thought you finished that already."
Dean cut a glance back at Xander, and the younger man had to fight not to squirm in his seat, thinking that Sam must have jumped the gun and tipped Dean off.
"We're dealing with magic, Dean. It never hurts to be thorough." Sam sounded so exasperated with Dean that, had he not known better, Xander would have bought Sam's explanation.
"All work and no play makes Sammy a dull boy," Dean chided with a roll of his eyes, apparently used to Sam's bookish tendencies. "You should come have a couple of beers with us."
"Thanks, but I'll pass," Sam said dryly, making it sound like it was the most unappealing activity he could imagine. "Besides, someone should stay behind and watch Chester."
Dean scoffed. "It's not like he's going to take over the world while we're not looking. Can't we just shut him in the bathroom?"
"Dean!" Sam put so much indignation in that one word that even Xander found himself wanting to hide his head in shame.
Dean just shrugged it off, though. "Fine, fine. Have it your way."
Dean put the car in park again, and Xander got out, carrying Chester in one arm and his bag in the other. They unloaded all their stuff into the motel room without any further protestations or suspicious questions, and then Dean gave Sam a 'see you later' and led Xander out the door.
Xander, foolishly thinking that Dean was none the wiser, gave Sam a thumbs up before trailing out after Dean, but as soon as they were closed up in the Impala again, Xander filling Sam's seat this time, Dean pinned him with a piercing look. "So, Sammy's planning something, isn't he?"
"What? No! What?" Smooth, Xander, real smooth, he thought. He laughed like Dean had asked the most absurd question ever, trying to play it off. "There's nothing at all going on." Then added slyly, hoping to confuse Dean just a little more, "But if there were, I wouldn't tell you, would I?"
Dean's eyes narrowed, like he was puzzling out whether Xander was trying to cover up that something was going on or if there was really nothing going on and he was just pulling Dean's leg by trying to make him think there was. Dean didn't look particularly convinced either way, but answered with a noncommittal, "Uh huh," before starting the car.
They pulled out of the parking lot, and Xander relaxed a little in his seat, holding in a relieved sigh that the crisis had been averted. At least for now.
The bar they ended up at was a lot like the first dive Dean had taken him to, and Xander hoped he didn't end up getting ditched this time like he had last time. The moment they hit the door, Dean was all smiles, completely in his element, and Xander couldn't help but envy that kind of ease. Even at the Bronze, among friends and familiar surroundings, Xander could never seem to pull off that kind of self-assurance, and he found himself starting to seriously doubt this plan.
Xander moved in closer to Dean to be heard over the noise and asked, "Are you really sure I can do this?" He hated the insecurity in his voice, but, really, it wasn't like he played pool all that often and never for money.
Dean had already been scanning the room, but at Xander's question he turned back, wearing a widespread, devilish grin. "Of course you can. It's going to be as easy as taking candy from a baby." Dean stated it with such matter-of-fact confidence that Xander had no trouble believing him, and when Dean nodded his head toward a table in the far corner, Xander just grinned and followed.
They made it to the back of the room just as one of the games finished, the two victors crowing loudly.
"Woo! Yeah, take that!" One of the winners, a blond-haired man, shouted. He wore a light-blue, grease-stained mechanic's uniform that had the name Trevor stitched below the right shoulder. "Double or nothing, what do you say?"
One of the losers scoffed in response. "Hell no. I'm going home before I don't have any money left in my pockets."
"Yeah, when my wife asks where all my cash went, you know I'm going to blame you two, right?" the other loser said, tone mock-scolding.
The other winner, the quieter of the two, in jeans, t-shirt, and a baseball cap that hid shockingly red hair which was trying peek out from beneath, shot back with, "Like you two weren't in here just yesterday trying to take us for all we were worth." Amusement laced the words, and he wore the kind of smile that seemed to say it's all good.
They all laughed good-naturedly, and it was obvious the four men were friends and would likely be doing the very same thing again tomorrow night.
The two losers waved goodnight before wandering away, and Trevor called out, "Well, the night's still young, somebody's got to step up. Come on, any takers?" His eyes glanced around briefly before landing on Dean and Xander. "What about you two? Think you can take us?" he asked with a cocky grin.
"I don't know," Dean hedged. "My little brother," he hooked a thumb in Xander's direction, and Xander had to really fight against the wide grin that threatened to take over his face when he heard Dean call him 'brother' out loud, "he's sort of a beginner, you know?"
"Come on," Trevor wheedled. "Just twenty bucks each. We might even be persuaded to knock it down to ten if twenty is just too expensive for your tastes."
"Well…" Dean trailed, turning toward Xander as if he had to give the stakes some serious consideration. He turned back with a complacent shrug. "Twenty'll be fine."
"That's what I'm talking about!" Trevor cheered gleefully, glad to have new prospects. "We'll even let you guys break first."
The red head, who introduced himself as Cody, gave them an amiable smile and moved toward the end of the table to begin racking. Both of the men looked a little older than Xander and Dean by probably ten or fifteen years, and Xander took comfort in the fact that neither looked anywhere near as intimidating as the burly biker guy Dean had played against a few nights back. They didn't particularly seem the type to be sore losers either, which Xander was really hoping would end up being the case. Assuming they won, which he was also fervently hoping for.
The four men each coughed up a twenty dollar bill, and then Dean picked out his cue and lined up his first shot. He sank a stripe on the break and managed to sink another before missing his third shot. Trevor went next, also sinking two solids and just barely missing the third, and then it was Xander's turn.
The plan was that Xander would do badly the first two games and then clean up on the third, the first half of the plan seeming a hell of a lot easier than the last half. After all, Xander thought, how difficult could it be to screw up? Xander found, however, as he was lining up his first shot that 'losing' was more difficult than it seemed. Instinct had him wanting to play to the best of his abilities, and he had to remind himself to make his aim wide. He was actually fairly confident that he could make this shot if he had wanted, but instead he just clipped the ball he was aiming for and sent it rolling in a direction that was not even remotely near one of the pockets. The embarrassed grimace that accompanied the shot wasn't nearly as difficult to fake.
Cody went next, sinking three solids before passing the turn to Dean. Xander watched as his older brother sank another three stripes, making it seem effortless. He felt a twinge of nervousness but reminded himself that everything was going as planned. When Dean missed his fourth shot, Trevor stepped up again and sank the last two stripes but didn't manage to sink the eight ball.
Xander lined his next shot up carefully, setting the aim just as he would if he had intended to make the shot, but hit the cue ball with less intensity than he knew he would need. The cue ball hit the nine and sent it toward the corner pocket in a slow crawl. Just as he'd hoped, the nine stopped just inches shy of tumbling in.
Xander feigned a sigh, and Dean clapped him on the back, saying, "Don't worry, man. You're just warming up."
Cody had the decency to give him a sympathetic smile before calling side-pocket and sinking the eight ball.
Trevor gave them a victorious, but tempered grin and asked, "Have another go?"
Dean glanced at Xander, then nodded, digging another twenty out of his wallet. "Sure, man. Your luck's bound to run out sooner or later."
After digging out a twenty of his, Xander moved to the end of the table and racked the balls as Trevor replied, "Luck ain't got nothin' to do with it, man."
The second game went even worse than the first, by appearances at least. Cody pocketed a stripe on the break, switching the sides up, and then sank a second stripe.
Xander eyed the table consideringly when he stepped up to take the next turn, thinking if he played this right it would look like… He lined up the shot, aiming for one of the solids that was nestled right next to a stripe, and gave the cue ball a firm hit. He managed to hit the solid he'd been aiming for but it was the striped fourteen that rolled into one of the corner pockets. "Crap."
"Thanks for the help, son," Trevor teased. "We appreciate it."
Xander huffed a little, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat up his face despite the fact that the shot had played out exactly as he'd intended. He just hoped that Dean knew that too. He thought he might have seen a ghost of a smile on the older man's face when Trevor and Cody weren't looking, but he wasn't sure.
Trevor pocketed three stripes on his turn, which Dean followed with three solids. Cody sank the last stripe next, but was left with a tricky angle on the eight ball which he didn't manage.
The next shot Xander lined up was straight and simple, the only possible drawback being if he scratched, which he knew he could avoid by hitting the cue ball a little below center. He refrained though, choosing instead to hit the cue ball dead-on. It was no surprise to him when the white ball followed the purple four into the pocket, but he still ducked his head embarrassedly when Trevor patted his back and ribbed him with, "You're sure you're not on our team?" as he passed by to retrieve the cue ball. The guy was actually starting to tick Xander off a little, and Xander looked forward to getting a little turnabout.
Thanks to Xander's scratch, Trevor easily sank the cue ball in the corner pocket, winning another game for Team Jackass, as Xander was starting to call them in his head.
"Let's triple the bet!" Xander said with a hint of frustration that he didn't even have to fake.
"Whoa, whoa, man. I don't know. We're already down eighty bucks between the two of us," Dean warned, putting on a show for the two other guys.
At least, Xander hoped it was for show and that Dean hadn't actually changed his mind about whether Xander could pull this off or not.
"Yeah, come on," Trevor encouraged. "I think the kid had some beginner's luck actually kicking in there at the end."
Xander scowled at the blond man over that last dig, but switched his gaze to Cody when the other man started hedging, "I don't know, Trev. It's getting kind of late. Maybe we should just call it a night." He was looking between Dean and Xander with a kind of apprehensive look, and Xander wondered if he suspected their intentions or if he just thought Xander might flip out on them if he lost a third game.
"Don't wimp out on me now, man! I think we've got them on the ropes."
Cody rolled his eyes at his friend but gave a shrug that seemed to say 'whatever man'.
"So what do you say, Dean-o? You feel like parting with a little more of your money?" Trevor asked, waggling his eyebrows.
"Only if you stop calling me that," Dean returned with a grimace that Xander thought looked fairly genuine. Dean gave a labored sigh like he was already regretting his decision and fished a few more twenties out of his wallet while Xander did the same.
"All right! Rack 'em," Trevor called excitedly.
Xander did, catching Dean's eye as he moved toward the end of the table, and he thought he saw the corner of Dean's mouth twitch in an almost smile.
"Solids it is," Trevor called with a grin when he pocketed the three ball on the break. Two more solids followed after that before Dean swaggered up to take the next turn.
This was where the difficult part began, Xander thought to himself, already feeling that twinge of nervousness nagging at the back of his mind, and he really hoped he didn't screw up. He didn't really feel all that worried though. He'd seen Dean play before. The man was better than most pros and could probably beat both Cody and Trevor on his own without Xander's help.
Which was why Xander was so shocked when Dean managed to pocket only one ball on his turn.
"Well hell, boys. You're not even putting up a fight." Trevor taunted. "Looks like this is going to be the shortest game of the night."
Xander turned to Dean with wide eyes, but the older man looked completely collected, nearly smirking, and he gave Xander an imperceptible nod.
Cody took his turn next, pocketing two more solids with a smile but not boasting nearly as loudly as Trevor would have.
Xander took a deep, nervous breath when he realized he was up next, taking a moment to chalk the end of his cue. Trevor slung a friendly arm around his shoulder. "Don't you fret too much, son. We'll buy you both a drink when this game is over…assuming you're old enough," he threw on at the end.
Xander looked at Dean, who looked back steadily, eyes alight with confidence and mischief, and Xander thought, if Dean thinks I can do this, then, damnit, I can. He shrugged Trevor's arm off, not even bothering to glare at the man, then moved over to the table, aimed, and shot, pocketing the thirteen with quick efficiency.
"Woo!" Trevor cat-called. "It's about time. Let's see you do that twice."
Xander ignored Trevor's jibes and pushed away his giddy excitement over having made a shot, focusing instead on his next lineup. This time, when he pocketed the fifteen ball with ease, Trevor remained silent, and when Xander sank the twelve next, he smirked at Trevor and said, "Guess that beginner's luck really is helping."
When Xander pocketed the ten ball on his fourth shot, with what Xander thought to be a rather impressive bank shot if he did say so himself, Trevor and Cody exchanged an uneasy glance. He didn't pocket anything on his fifth shot, but Xander thought four was a pretty damn good run, considering.
Trevor stepped up to the table next, looking damn unsettled, and before he could line up a shot, Dean clapped his shoulder and said, "Don't worry, man. When this game is over we'll buy you both a drink." Trevor was so flustered that he didn't manage to pocket anything.
Dean was openly beaming now and sharing grins with Xander. He sank only one ball again this time, but when Cody stepped up for his turn, he took one look at the layout on the table and muttered, "Aw, hell. You didn't leave me any shots."
Cody's turn was short-lived, not managing to pocket anything, and then it was Xander's turn again. He made short work of the nine ball, but when the cue ball's roll came to a stop it was nestled behind two solids which directly blocked its path to the eight ball.
"Well, let's see you make that one," Trevor goaded, regaining some of his confidence.
Xander glanced at Dean, whose expression seemed to say, dude, that's nothing, you've totally got this in the bag. Xander nodded, called "side pocket", then regarded the aim with renewed concentration. He elevated the cue, angling it just right, exhaled slowly, and then took the shot. The cue ball jumped, clearing the two solids and rolling a short way before impacting the eight ball, which rolled cleanly into the side pocket.
"Damnit!" Trevor blurted immediately, staring at the table like he just couldn't quite believe it. Then something dawned in his eyes, and he looked up at Xander and Dean with a surprised and somewhat offended expression. "You hustled us!"
Xander pulled a slightly panicked, 'who me?' look, and Cody laughed good-humoredly, slapping his friend on the back. "I told you, you have to watch out for the young ones. They're always trouble."
Trevor groaned, more embarrassed than angry. "Man, I can't believe we got owned like that."
"Just be glad Gary and Blake weren't here to see it," Cody tried consoling.
His eyes widened, imagining the humiliation. "Oh, they would never let us live this down."
"Well played, man." Cody nodded at Xander, and the younger man allowed himself a goofy grin.
Dean had already flagged down one of the waitresses and was charming his way into her good favor. "Hey darlin', would you mind bringing me and my buddies here a few cold ones?"
The waitress, brunette and busty, gave him a saucy smile. "For you, sugar? Anything."
"Gina never smiles at me like that," Trevor grumbled after the women had gone off to retrieve their drinks.
"That's because she's met you, so she already knows how much of an ass you are," Cody mocked, taking a seat at one of the nearby bar tables.
"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?" Trevor accused, but he was smiling as he pulled up a chair next to his friend.
Xander and Dean joined them, the four men settling into easy conversation, and a few minutes later Gina returned with four bottles of beer, doling out the first two to Trevor and Cody, then pausing after placing the third in front of Xander. "Are you really over twenty-one?"
"Of course he is," Dean butted in, flashing his knock-'em-off-their-feet smile. "We just age so well that we look much younger than we actually are. It's in our genes."
Xander may not know much about charming the ladies, but he still thought that was the lamest line ever, and by the expressions on Trevor's and Cody's faces, they thought so too. Gina, however, bought it hook, line, and sinker, practically putty in Dean's hands - or at the very least, wanting to be in Dean's hands.
She let go of Xander's beer and leaned closer to Dean, resting one hip against the table which drew Dean's eyes to her waist and the line of flesh not completely covered by her jeans or her top. "And just how old are you?" she asked coyly.
Dean dragged his gaze slowly up her body before meeting her eyes again. "Old enough to have plenty of…experience," he answered, voice heavily laden with innuendo.
Sitting next to Xander, Trevor made a cough behind his fist that sounded suspiciously like bullshit.
Gina's smile widened, though, and she placed Dean's beer on the table in front of him, leaning down to put her face closer to his and giving him a nice view of her cleavage. "Well," she said, voice smoky and just loud enough for the other three men to still catch her words, "I'm old enough to know better." With that, she gave him a wink and turned on her heel, sashaying back toward the bar.
Dean's eyes followed her backside, and he gave an appreciative sigh. "I like that one." He shook his head as if from a daze, and said, "Well, cheers." Then he gestured with his beer toward his companions before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a swig.
Xander followed suit, taking a tentative drink which was promptly met with an expression similar to one he made when he was eight and had thought mixing pixie sticks in with his chocolate pudding would be a great idea. It really hadn't been. At the face he made, the other three men at the table dissolved into laughter, Xander eventually joining in with a self-deprecating smile.
The next half-hour continued much the same, the four men joking and just generally shooting the shit. Xander found that the more he drank, the better the beer tasted - or the less he could taste - and as the beer started tasting better, the funnier the other three guys got. He was clutching his sides in laughter by the time he hit the bottom of his first bottle and Dean sweet-talked a second one out of Gina.
Trevor and Cody bailed shortly after that, and Dean split his attention between chatting Xander up and flirting with Gina. Xander, for his part, talked Dean's ear off about all things Sunnydale, Buffy, Willow, the virtues of Twinkies and moon pies, and at some point, despite a vague sense of warning in the back of his hazy mind, he let slip the story of why the substitute-teacher-turned-preying-mantis chose him as her 'project helper'. He didn't know it now, but he was probably going to regret giving Dean that kind of ammunition later.
Xander was about halfway through his second beer when Dean, eyes lit up slyly, asked, "So Sammy's planning something, isn't he?"
"Yep," Xander answered, not even stopping to think about it and about three sheets past the point of remembering why he really wasn't supposed to be talking about that, and even added with manic glee, "It's going to be gooooood."
"Yeah!" Dean grinned victoriously, thinking he'd hit pay dirt. "So what's it going to be?"
"I don't know," Xander shrugged brightly. "Sam didn't tell me."
Dean's good mood plummeted as he already knew that Xander was too far gone to be lying and that his chances of hacking Sammy's secret plan were now nil. "Well you're no help."
Xander frowned thoughtfully, trying think of a way to be more helpful, and seconds later he snapped his fingers - or tried to. "I know it won't have something to do with your clothes."
"Well that narrows it down," Dean deadpanned.
Xander collapsed into giggles, and Dean shook his head. When his laughter tapered off and he could breathe again, Xander took another swig of his beer. "This shtuff doesn't tashe, taize, taste," he managed on the third try, pronouncing the second t with a heavy tuh sound, "as bad as I think it did."
Dean's eyebrows arched up toward his hairline, and he reached across the table to grab the bottle out of Xander's hand. "And I think you've had enough."
"Okay," Xander returned easily, goofy smile still plastered on and no less happy for the loss of alcohol. "I'm really glad you guys found me," he managed with a smile and only some slight slurring, "er, that I founded you. I'm glad we were found."
"Yeah, me too," Dean added seriously, understanding the sentiment behind the words despite the lack of sense. "And I think that's our cue to leave before we start sharing our feelings." Standing from his seat, he added as an afterthought, "Or before you start puking."
Xander stood too, and it was only Dean's hand on his arm that kept him from swaying dangerously off-center.
Dean laid some money on the table, enough to cover the drinks and a healthy-sized tip for Gina, and then the two left, Dean giving Xander's arm a pull anytime he leaned too far in one direction.
*****
"SAMMY!" Xander greeted joyously the second he and Dean staggered through the motel room door.
"You got him drunk?" Sam asked incredulously, eyebrows inching upward when Xander leaned precariously to the right. He helped Dean to move Xander over to the far bed, lowering the younger man to a sitting position.
"One beer and a half, Sam," Dean defended. "He's even more of a lightweight than you are."
Xander gave them both a loopy grin as if he knew they were speaking about him.
"That's really responsible, Dean," Sam said, though the reprimand was dampened by the smile tugging at his lips. He shoved a bottle of water into Xander's hands. "Here, drink some of this."
"Had to give him the full initiation," Dean said.
"He's not even twenty-one yet," Sam chided lightly.
"As I recall, you were only sixteen the first time I got you drunk." And he'd had to do a lot of convincing back then just to get the little bookworm to go out with him and live it up a little. Kind of like he did now, really.
"And as I recall," Sam countered, turning around to face Dean, "Dad ripped you a new one for that."
Dean chuckled out loud as that memory bubbled to the surface. "Yeah, I never knew Dad's face could turn red that fast. But then, of course, right after that you told Dad that he was short and bossy and could shine it where the sun doesn't stick - worded exactly like that, I might add - and then passed out like a light, right there on your feet. Dad and I laughed so hard. I thought I was going to break rib." He still laughed about it now.
Sam frowned at him. "Dude, it didn't happen like that. I was not that wasted."
"That's just because you were too wasted to remember it right," Dean said, giving in to another bout of chuckles.
Sam rolled his eyes and turned his back on Dean.
They both looked at Xander, who was now laying back on the bed, feet still on the floor and out like a light.
"Nice," Sam stated dryly with a pained sigh. He crouched down and started pulling off Xander's left shoe.
"Sorry," Dean said, the chuckle in his voice voiding the apology. He started working on the right shoe. "But what better way to get drunk for the first time than when you have family around to watch your back?"
"Yeah, I'm sure he'll thank you for that when he wakes up tomorrow with a hangover."
"Well, there's no way he can be as surly as you were that next morning," Dean chuckled, casting a grin at Sam, who huffed a little at the barb.
For the second time in as many nights, Sam and Dean found themselves having to maneuver Xander into bed.
"Man, this is starting to become a habit. And he's heavier than he looks," Dean complained.
"You brought it on yourself this time," Sam muttered, and Dean supposed he was right.
Once they got Xander rolled onto the bed in what looked to be a more or less comfortable position, Sam stood wearily and gestured toward the other bed. "You can take the bed, I'll bunk here with Xander."
Dean eyed the other bed warily. Sure, it sounded like Sam was making a nice offer considering they hadn't been able to get a rollaway this time around, but he'd given that up way too quickly. He didn't think Sam had really been translating this whole time. Was the bed covered in itching powder? Surely nothing as lame as just short-sheeting it. There was just no out-pranking a master.
"I don't think so," Dean refused, laughing like he'd just caught Sam with his hand in the cookie jar. "No way I'm getting in that bed."
"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confusion playing over his face.
Like Dean was really going to buy that clueless act. "Come on, dude. You didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?"
"You know what? Forget it," Sam said, giving up on puzzling out whatever the hell Dean was talking about. "But if Xander pukes on you in the middle of the night, you've got nobody to blame but yourself."
When Sam stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt and crawled into the other bed without pause, Dean frowned. Guess there really wasn't anything wrong with the bed. He eyed the space next to Xander and wondered if maybe he shouldn't have just taken Sam up on that offer. But at least this way Sam wouldn't be able to do anything to him in his sleep without involving Xander in it. He didn't think Sam would prank him at the younger man's expense. And while a foghorn might not wake Xander, Dean was a light sleeper. He changed, flipped off the light, and crawled into bed on the other side of Xander, confident in the knowledge that there was no way Sam could pull one over on him.
*****
"Xander, you better wake up if you want to get a Twinkie. Dean's about to eat the last one."
As the whispered promise of junk food filtered through to his sleep-fogged brain, Xander raised his head and blearily looked around, his gaze eventually landing on an apologetic looking Sam.
"Sorry, no food. But trust me, you're going to want to see this," the older man gestured toward the bathroom door.
Xander sat up, inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand over his face, and then looked toward the door expectantly.
True to Sam's word, about two minutes later a startled yell came from the bathroom, and Dean came rushing out, eyes wild, a hastily wrapped towel around his waist…and a head of shockingly blue hair, sticking up haphazardly in wet spikes. "Sam!" Dean growled threateningly, dripping blue-tinted water on the motel carpet.
Dean's death-glare didn't have quite the desired effect as both Sam and Xander were overcome in a fit of hysterical laughter.
"I'm going to kill you two," Dean stated menacingly when the laughter died down enough to get a word in edgewise.
"Don't worry, Dean," Sam wheezed. "It'll grow out. Eventually." This set off another laughing fit for the two younger men, and Dean growled, going back into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.
Xander laughed so hard that it hurt, and he clutched his sides. He may have woken up with a headache but seeing Dean like that had definitely made it worthwhile. Instant hangover cure, really.
Dean spent the next half-hour trying to shampoo the blue out of his hair with little success. By the time Sam and Xander had showered and dressed, it was already lunchtime. As Dean refused to be seen anywhere, Sam and Xander were forced to forge for food at a local convenience store where they stopped to fill the Impala with gas.
They returned to the car with a few hot dogs and sodas, and at Xander's insistence a blue Slurpee for Dean, which Xander handed over saying, "Just for you, Papa Smurf."
Dean looked like he wanted to dump it over Xander's head and was only stopped by the mess it might make in his car.
Xander also dropped a baseball cap onto Dean's lap as Sam was passing out food and drinks. "Here, I grabbed you something to hide your shame."
"Well, it's the least you could-" Dean stopped short. "World's Best Fisherman?" he asked disdainfully, turning it around to show the embroidery on the front to Xander like he might have missed it when he picked it up.
"Sorry, " Xander said, not sounding particularly apologetic, "but the Mom 'n' Pop shop were all out of AC/DC caps. Beggars can't be choosers and all that."
"So what do you say? Truce?" Sam asked.
Dean scowled. "Are you kidding? You really think I'm just going to let this go?"
"Yeah, Sam, let's think about this for a second," Xander pitched in. "I mean, we still have so many other colors to try out. Purple, orange…what about green? That would really bring out his eyes. We could go rainbow-colored and call him Skittles."
"I don't know," Sam disagreed. "I really think pink is Dean's color. He seems to like it well enough when it comes to clothes."
"I bet we could find some matching nail polish," Xander added.
"All right! Fine! Truce!" Dean ground out.
With that, the Great Winchester Prank War of 2006 came to an unceremonious end, and just moments later the Impala screeched out of the parking lot.
*****
"I think we should pull over."
"You've got to be kidding me," Dean exclaimed, turning to glare at Xander over the seat. "Didn't you just go?"
"It's not me! Chester's starting to look really antsy back here. I think he's- Ooo! There!" Xander leaned fully over the seat and pointed off to the right, nearly taking Sam out with his arm.
Dean groaned when he saw the 'Welcome to Kansas' sign, a few sightseers already milling around in front of it. "Do we have to?"
"Do you really want Chester to pee on the floorboard?" Xander questioned rhetorically.
Dean pulled the car over, parking behind an RV, and Xander picked up the dog. "Come on, Chester, let's see if we can find some Blue's Clues for Dean," Xander said with a grin at the older man.
Dean called out, "Dude, that's just lame," as Xander jumped out of the car with Chester in his arms, taking the dog over to what looked like a nice patch of grass.
While Chester was busy taking care of business, Sam and Xander stretched their legs and watched a family of four pile back into the RV. They pulled away, and shortly after a truck pulled into the same spot, towing a small camper behind it.
An elderly couple got out, surveyed the landscape a bit, pointing at the 'Welcome to Kansas' sign, and then the woman made her way over to them. She looked just like a grandma, with short, curly, bluish-gray hair and a smile that said she probably spoiled her grandkids rotten and baked cookies all the time.
"Hello boys!" she greeted with a southern twang. She held a camera out to Sam. "Would you mind snappin' a picture of Ernie an' me? We've been taking pictures of every state we pass through and emailin' them to the grandkids. They just love hearin' stories about where we've been."
Sam gave her a smile. "Sure, ma'am. I'd be happy to."
As Xander watched the two return to where Ernie was standing, the elderly couple striking a pose in front of the state sign, a thought occurred to him and he climbed into the backseat, digging through his bag till he pulled out the disposable camera Buffy's mom had given him. "Come on, I want to get a picture of you guys," Xander told Dean, who had yet to get out of the car.
"No." Dean's tone was firm.
"Oh, come on, Gonzo, don't hold out on me!"
"See, and that's exactly why. In case you haven't noticed, my hair is blue." He gestured wildly toward his head.
Xander nearly laughed again at the reminder. It just got better and better every time he thought about Dean's psychedelic hair. He settled on saying, "Yeah, well, so is Grandma's. Maybe you two can bond over being Marge Simpson fans."
From the look Dean gave him, that wasn't really helping Xander's argument, so he added more seriously, "Please?"
Dean sighed and let his head drop on the steering wheel with an audible thump. "One picture," he relented.
Xander whooped, jumped back out of the car, and scooped Chester up from where he was chasing a butterfly. With Dean trailing reluctantly behind, he trotted up to the Kansas sign where Sam, Grandma, and Ernie were still standing around chatting. "Hey Sam, I want to get a picture of you and Dean," he said, handing Chester off to Sam and herding his brothers toward the sign.
"Say cheese," Xander said, readying to take the shot, but before he could snap a picture, Grandma snatched the camera out of his hands.
"You should be in the picture, too," she told him.
Xander shrugged and jogged over to join them, and Dean snagged a hand on his arm, positioning him between the two of them, saying, "Shortest in the middle."
They shuffled awkwardly and looked over at Grandma.
"Young man, that is a lovely shade of blue," Grandma commented to Dean.
Sam and Xander both laughed and turned to look at Dean who looked back at them with a disgruntled expression like he was trying to keep from saying something that wouldn't really be appropriate for a grandmother to hear.
Grandma snapped a picture, grinning impishly. "Oops! I suppose I should get a serious one now," she said.
They all faced the camera again and smiled, even if Dean's looked a little put out, and the old lady snapped a second picture.
"Thanks," Xander said, coming up to take the camera back.
The group stood around chatting for a bit longer until Chester started to doze off in Sam's arms, and then Dean started to shuffle his feet impatiently, aiming pointed looks toward the car. Sam caught on and started making their goodbyes, but it wasn't until after Grandma had given Dean a large zip lock bag of chocolate chip cookies that they managed to make it back to the car.
Xander climbed into the backseat, tucking his camera back into his bag, and then took Chester from Sam and settled the sleeping dog onto his lap. "See, Dean. I told you Grandma would like your hair."
Dean sighed and muttered, "Just for that, I'm keeping all the cookies to myself."
As they drove away, Xander looked out the window to see Grandma and Ernie waving goodbye, and Xander waved back for a moment before the figures became lost in a blur of cornfields.
*****
The last few hours on the way to Missouri's house passed a lot like the very first hours they all spent in the car together when they had left Missouri's several days ago. Xander fidgeted, chattered on endlessly, and basically made a nuisance of himself, Dean kept turning the music up to drown him out, and Sam wished he could be anywhere but inside that car.
In comparison to the mad dash they'd made to get to North Carolina, the return trip moved at a snail's pace. They only traveled for two hours at most before something had them pulling over: the car needed gas, Xander wanted a picture, Xander needed something to drink, Chester needed a potty break, Xander needed a potty break.
Amazingly, Dean relented to each stop with little prodding, whether because he was worried about what damage Chester could do or because he was developing a real soft spot for Xander, Sam wasn't sure. Not that Dean would ever admit to the latter, anyway. The constant, familiar banter was a dead-giveaway though.
The moon was already making its ascent into the sky when they finally broke the Lawrence city limits, and the banter was still going strong. But Sam didn't know how they could even hear each other over AC/DC. He listened silently, wishing he could drown out both the music and the nonstop chatter and maybe catch a little shuteye.
"Man, I hope Missouri's got some food. I'm starving," Dean complained.
Xander had his arms resting on the seatback between Sam and Dean, close enough that Sam could hear his reply, "This coming from the guy who ate all the cookies."
"I deserved those cookies."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
"And that's supposed to matter because?"
"Because I'm the oldest."
"Yeah, do you buy that, Sam? Because I don't. I think that's a crap rule."
Sam didn't even bother to comment, and it proved unnecessary anyway as Dean continued his argument, "Besides, you guys owe me for what you did to my hair."
"Which we only did because you turned our clothes pink. And besides, that was more Sam's doing than mine."
So much for solidarity, Sam thought.
"Right. Like you weren't busy playing decoy and keeping me distracted."
"As if that was a difficult task. I've seen four-year-olds with longer attention spans."
"Oh, and you're one to talk."
Sam had never felt so relieved in his life as when they rolled to a stop in front of Missouri's house. Sam climbed out of the car, took a deep breath, and stretched his arms high above his head, his back giving a satisfying pop.
Dean had already grabbed his bag and was moving up the front walk to Missouri's house, and Sam quickly followed suit. Dean wasn't the only one who was hungry, and like Xander, Sam hadn't had any luck getting Dean to share the cookies.
Sam was vaguely aware of the front porch light flicking on before he was suddenly plowing into Dean, who had come to a sudden stop.
"Dean, would you watch what you're-" The words died on Sam's lips as his eyes caught the shadowed figure standing on Missouri's porch, familiarity tugging at Sam. The figure moved, the porch light chasing away the darkness that shrouded it, and Sam felt a flare of recognition that took his breath away.
He was still blinking in shock, about to voice his astonishment when Dean beat him to the punch.
"Dad?"
*****
You're probably thinking I'm evil right now, and you might be right. I guess this chapter just screams for a cliffhanger. We're in the homestretch now folks. Two more chapters to go.
If you find yourself bored now after reading, take my poll about the future of the Distant Relations 'Verse: http://sierraphoenix.livejournal.com/23584.html
Author: sierraphoenix
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural
Pairings/Characters: No pairings. Xander, Dean, Sam.
Summary: Xander learns the truth about his parentage and must decide whether or not to seek out his real father.
Previous Chapters: Livejournal | Twisting the Hellmouth | Supernaturally Twisted | My Website
Thanks to Lisette for beta-ing and the extra help rescuing my Sam!
Artwork by kaylashay81. For more, visit Artistic Collections.
*****
It was late afternoon by the time the brothers loaded up the Impala - pink laundry and all - and left another sleepy town in their wake. The first half-hour was filled with Dean's gloating, secure in his rank of Prank Master, while the two younger brothers offered up token complaints about the new shade of their clothing and shared glances that held the promise of retaliation. Eventually the conversation lulled, leaving them in a surprisingly comfortable silence broken only when Dean popped one of his favorites tapes into the tape deck.
Xander stared out the backseat window, watching American landscapes blur past, content to relax and just listen to the music as the miles rolled by. He had to admit that Dean's musical taste was starting to grow on him a little. A couple of the songs were developing a familiarity, and Xander even found himself humming along at times. It was hard to believe that they had first met less than a week ago. Xander felt almost as comfortable with them as he did hanging out with Buffy and Willow. Slouched down in the Impala's backseat, with Chester sprawled alongside and chewing absently on the edge of his shirttail, Xander felt like he belonged there.
Maybe demon-slaying really did have a way of bringing people closer together. And how wild of a coincidence was that? Xander had traveled so far to seek out some distant relations and then to find that they knew about demons, too, hunted them even. It was almost like fate. After spending years feeling like an outcast in his own home, it was nice to finally have some family that he had something in common with and - if he wasn't misreading things - might actually want him there.
Allowing his emotions to show on his face, Xander favored Chester with a loopy smile and patted him on the back. Chester, easily distracted, tried to tackle his hand which only caused him to tumble headfirst into Xander's lap. The pup continued crawling over Xander's legs, letting his curiosity lead him to the window. He was just barely big enough to stand on his hind legs and peer out, but Xander lifted him up a few more inches to get a better view.
"Checking out the next town?" Xander asked the dog rhetorically, glancing out the window himself. They had been on the road for only three hours, but they had left late enough that dusk was already fast approaching. The town's streetlights were already flickering on in places and the neon 'vacancy' sign of a motel glowed brightly up ahead.
Xander was just as surprised as Sam when they pulled into the motel's parking lot.
"We're stopping already?" Sam queried.
Wanting to be more involved in the conversation, Xander leaned over the seat, squeezing in between Sam and Dean just as Dean threw the car into park and looked over at the both of them with a sly grin.
"Looks like the kind of town that would have a bar somewhere," Dean observed. "Figured we could test out Xander's new pool skills and hustle us up some more cash."
"Dean," Sam started, and Xander turned to look at him when he heard the ire in his voice. "Do you really think it's necessary to start teaching Xander all of your bad habits?"
"What do you mean, 'bad habits'?" Dean asked, offended, causing Xander's gaze to swing left. "It's just a - what do you call it? - a rite of passage."
Xander glanced right again as Sam threw out another retort, "And what's next? Credit card fraud?"
"Easy, Sammy, you have work up to these things," Dean stated, as if Sam had voiced an honest suggestion. "Can't go dumping everything on him at once."
By now Xander was beginning to feel like a spectator at a ping pong match. Half of him really wanted to go out with Dean and try his hand at hustling while the other half was worried about disappointing Sam. He really didn't want to be caught in the middle. Even worse, what if he did go with Dean and it turned out that he wasn't nearly as skilled at pool at Dean seemed to think he was.
"You know, Dean, just because you have an aversion to making an honest living doesn't necessarily mean that the rest of us-"
"It doesn't hurt to have a few extra skills just in case Xander finds himself in a tight pinch and-"
"Right, because hustling in bars and petty theft can really improve even the worst situations-"
"It might! Even you have to agree that it's always good to have a fallback plan."
"Sure, but I don't think-"
"I'll go get the room key," Dean stated, bolting from the car before Sam could finish his argument.
Sam sighed heavily and turned to Xander with an imploring look that the younger man wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Xander shrugged and put on his most 'I'm innocent' expression. From the look that crossed Sam's face, Xander figured he bought that innocent expression about as much as Willow would have.
"Dean will drag you into a whole heap of trouble if you let him; believe me, I know," Sam said, appealing to his common sense.
But unfortunately, Xander's common sense was always hit or miss, and he really kind of wanted to see if his skills could hold up next to Dean's. He did have an idea, though, on how to make this all seem a little more appealing to Sam. "On the other hand, if Dean and I are out somewhere, you'd probably have to stay here at the motel and keep an eye on Chester…and Dean's stuff," Xander put emphasis on the last bit. "I'm sure he wouldn't want anything to happen to his clothes while he's out."
Sam, always a quick study, caught on immediately. "We can't go for the clothes, though, it's too obvious. It's got to be something new…and something that will really get Dean this time."
Xander was almost a little worried by the evil gleam in Sam's eyes. He was glad the intelligent man was on his side because he never wanted to know what it would be like on the receiving end of that, especially when Sam's mouth slid into a downright malicious grin.
"I've got an idea," Sam said brightly, that evil gleam in his eyes kicking up a notch.
This was a new side of Sam, Xander thought, eyeing him apprehensively. "Do I even want to know?" Their revenge would be short-lived if Dean ended up killing them over this.
"Actually, it's probably best if you don't. Dean's like a dog with a bone; if he suspects something's up, he'll pry it out of you before the night is over."
Xander decided not to take offense since he suspected Sam's response had more to do with Dean's stubborn tendencies than any lack of faith in Xander's ability to keep a secret, and Xander rather agreed with the sentiment. Under Dean's scrutiny, Xander wasn't sure he wouldn't crack like a walnut at the first sign of pressure.
Chester's yelping at the window alerted them to Dean's return, and after sharing a quick, knowing look with Sam, Xander slouched back in his seat, doing his best to appear casual.
Dean opened the car door and dropped into the seat, pulling the car around closer to their room and giving Sam a resolved look that Xander thought would have done Willow proud. "Now look, you can sulk all you want, but we're-"
"You guys go ahead," Sam cut in. "I figure without you stuck in the room bitching about how bored you are, I might actually be able to finish the translation for that spell."
Dean's mouth gaped open for a second longer, obviously not having expected to win so easily. Then he snapped his mouth closed, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I thought you finished that already."
Dean cut a glance back at Xander, and the younger man had to fight not to squirm in his seat, thinking that Sam must have jumped the gun and tipped Dean off.
"We're dealing with magic, Dean. It never hurts to be thorough." Sam sounded so exasperated with Dean that, had he not known better, Xander would have bought Sam's explanation.
"All work and no play makes Sammy a dull boy," Dean chided with a roll of his eyes, apparently used to Sam's bookish tendencies. "You should come have a couple of beers with us."
"Thanks, but I'll pass," Sam said dryly, making it sound like it was the most unappealing activity he could imagine. "Besides, someone should stay behind and watch Chester."
Dean scoffed. "It's not like he's going to take over the world while we're not looking. Can't we just shut him in the bathroom?"
"Dean!" Sam put so much indignation in that one word that even Xander found himself wanting to hide his head in shame.
Dean just shrugged it off, though. "Fine, fine. Have it your way."
Dean put the car in park again, and Xander got out, carrying Chester in one arm and his bag in the other. They unloaded all their stuff into the motel room without any further protestations or suspicious questions, and then Dean gave Sam a 'see you later' and led Xander out the door.
Xander, foolishly thinking that Dean was none the wiser, gave Sam a thumbs up before trailing out after Dean, but as soon as they were closed up in the Impala again, Xander filling Sam's seat this time, Dean pinned him with a piercing look. "So, Sammy's planning something, isn't he?"
"What? No! What?" Smooth, Xander, real smooth, he thought. He laughed like Dean had asked the most absurd question ever, trying to play it off. "There's nothing at all going on." Then added slyly, hoping to confuse Dean just a little more, "But if there were, I wouldn't tell you, would I?"
Dean's eyes narrowed, like he was puzzling out whether Xander was trying to cover up that something was going on or if there was really nothing going on and he was just pulling Dean's leg by trying to make him think there was. Dean didn't look particularly convinced either way, but answered with a noncommittal, "Uh huh," before starting the car.
They pulled out of the parking lot, and Xander relaxed a little in his seat, holding in a relieved sigh that the crisis had been averted. At least for now.
The bar they ended up at was a lot like the first dive Dean had taken him to, and Xander hoped he didn't end up getting ditched this time like he had last time. The moment they hit the door, Dean was all smiles, completely in his element, and Xander couldn't help but envy that kind of ease. Even at the Bronze, among friends and familiar surroundings, Xander could never seem to pull off that kind of self-assurance, and he found himself starting to seriously doubt this plan.
Xander moved in closer to Dean to be heard over the noise and asked, "Are you really sure I can do this?" He hated the insecurity in his voice, but, really, it wasn't like he played pool all that often and never for money.
Dean had already been scanning the room, but at Xander's question he turned back, wearing a widespread, devilish grin. "Of course you can. It's going to be as easy as taking candy from a baby." Dean stated it with such matter-of-fact confidence that Xander had no trouble believing him, and when Dean nodded his head toward a table in the far corner, Xander just grinned and followed.
They made it to the back of the room just as one of the games finished, the two victors crowing loudly.
"Woo! Yeah, take that!" One of the winners, a blond-haired man, shouted. He wore a light-blue, grease-stained mechanic's uniform that had the name Trevor stitched below the right shoulder. "Double or nothing, what do you say?"
One of the losers scoffed in response. "Hell no. I'm going home before I don't have any money left in my pockets."
"Yeah, when my wife asks where all my cash went, you know I'm going to blame you two, right?" the other loser said, tone mock-scolding.
The other winner, the quieter of the two, in jeans, t-shirt, and a baseball cap that hid shockingly red hair which was trying peek out from beneath, shot back with, "Like you two weren't in here just yesterday trying to take us for all we were worth." Amusement laced the words, and he wore the kind of smile that seemed to say it's all good.
They all laughed good-naturedly, and it was obvious the four men were friends and would likely be doing the very same thing again tomorrow night.
The two losers waved goodnight before wandering away, and Trevor called out, "Well, the night's still young, somebody's got to step up. Come on, any takers?" His eyes glanced around briefly before landing on Dean and Xander. "What about you two? Think you can take us?" he asked with a cocky grin.
"I don't know," Dean hedged. "My little brother," he hooked a thumb in Xander's direction, and Xander had to really fight against the wide grin that threatened to take over his face when he heard Dean call him 'brother' out loud, "he's sort of a beginner, you know?"
"Come on," Trevor wheedled. "Just twenty bucks each. We might even be persuaded to knock it down to ten if twenty is just too expensive for your tastes."
"Well…" Dean trailed, turning toward Xander as if he had to give the stakes some serious consideration. He turned back with a complacent shrug. "Twenty'll be fine."
"That's what I'm talking about!" Trevor cheered gleefully, glad to have new prospects. "We'll even let you guys break first."
The red head, who introduced himself as Cody, gave them an amiable smile and moved toward the end of the table to begin racking. Both of the men looked a little older than Xander and Dean by probably ten or fifteen years, and Xander took comfort in the fact that neither looked anywhere near as intimidating as the burly biker guy Dean had played against a few nights back. They didn't particularly seem the type to be sore losers either, which Xander was really hoping would end up being the case. Assuming they won, which he was also fervently hoping for.
The four men each coughed up a twenty dollar bill, and then Dean picked out his cue and lined up his first shot. He sank a stripe on the break and managed to sink another before missing his third shot. Trevor went next, also sinking two solids and just barely missing the third, and then it was Xander's turn.
The plan was that Xander would do badly the first two games and then clean up on the third, the first half of the plan seeming a hell of a lot easier than the last half. After all, Xander thought, how difficult could it be to screw up? Xander found, however, as he was lining up his first shot that 'losing' was more difficult than it seemed. Instinct had him wanting to play to the best of his abilities, and he had to remind himself to make his aim wide. He was actually fairly confident that he could make this shot if he had wanted, but instead he just clipped the ball he was aiming for and sent it rolling in a direction that was not even remotely near one of the pockets. The embarrassed grimace that accompanied the shot wasn't nearly as difficult to fake.
Cody went next, sinking three solids before passing the turn to Dean. Xander watched as his older brother sank another three stripes, making it seem effortless. He felt a twinge of nervousness but reminded himself that everything was going as planned. When Dean missed his fourth shot, Trevor stepped up again and sank the last two stripes but didn't manage to sink the eight ball.
Xander lined his next shot up carefully, setting the aim just as he would if he had intended to make the shot, but hit the cue ball with less intensity than he knew he would need. The cue ball hit the nine and sent it toward the corner pocket in a slow crawl. Just as he'd hoped, the nine stopped just inches shy of tumbling in.
Xander feigned a sigh, and Dean clapped him on the back, saying, "Don't worry, man. You're just warming up."
Cody had the decency to give him a sympathetic smile before calling side-pocket and sinking the eight ball.
Trevor gave them a victorious, but tempered grin and asked, "Have another go?"
Dean glanced at Xander, then nodded, digging another twenty out of his wallet. "Sure, man. Your luck's bound to run out sooner or later."
After digging out a twenty of his, Xander moved to the end of the table and racked the balls as Trevor replied, "Luck ain't got nothin' to do with it, man."
The second game went even worse than the first, by appearances at least. Cody pocketed a stripe on the break, switching the sides up, and then sank a second stripe.
Xander eyed the table consideringly when he stepped up to take the next turn, thinking if he played this right it would look like… He lined up the shot, aiming for one of the solids that was nestled right next to a stripe, and gave the cue ball a firm hit. He managed to hit the solid he'd been aiming for but it was the striped fourteen that rolled into one of the corner pockets. "Crap."
"Thanks for the help, son," Trevor teased. "We appreciate it."
Xander huffed a little, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat up his face despite the fact that the shot had played out exactly as he'd intended. He just hoped that Dean knew that too. He thought he might have seen a ghost of a smile on the older man's face when Trevor and Cody weren't looking, but he wasn't sure.
Trevor pocketed three stripes on his turn, which Dean followed with three solids. Cody sank the last stripe next, but was left with a tricky angle on the eight ball which he didn't manage.
The next shot Xander lined up was straight and simple, the only possible drawback being if he scratched, which he knew he could avoid by hitting the cue ball a little below center. He refrained though, choosing instead to hit the cue ball dead-on. It was no surprise to him when the white ball followed the purple four into the pocket, but he still ducked his head embarrassedly when Trevor patted his back and ribbed him with, "You're sure you're not on our team?" as he passed by to retrieve the cue ball. The guy was actually starting to tick Xander off a little, and Xander looked forward to getting a little turnabout.
Thanks to Xander's scratch, Trevor easily sank the cue ball in the corner pocket, winning another game for Team Jackass, as Xander was starting to call them in his head.
"Let's triple the bet!" Xander said with a hint of frustration that he didn't even have to fake.
"Whoa, whoa, man. I don't know. We're already down eighty bucks between the two of us," Dean warned, putting on a show for the two other guys.
At least, Xander hoped it was for show and that Dean hadn't actually changed his mind about whether Xander could pull this off or not.
"Yeah, come on," Trevor encouraged. "I think the kid had some beginner's luck actually kicking in there at the end."
Xander scowled at the blond man over that last dig, but switched his gaze to Cody when the other man started hedging, "I don't know, Trev. It's getting kind of late. Maybe we should just call it a night." He was looking between Dean and Xander with a kind of apprehensive look, and Xander wondered if he suspected their intentions or if he just thought Xander might flip out on them if he lost a third game.
"Don't wimp out on me now, man! I think we've got them on the ropes."
Cody rolled his eyes at his friend but gave a shrug that seemed to say 'whatever man'.
"So what do you say, Dean-o? You feel like parting with a little more of your money?" Trevor asked, waggling his eyebrows.
"Only if you stop calling me that," Dean returned with a grimace that Xander thought looked fairly genuine. Dean gave a labored sigh like he was already regretting his decision and fished a few more twenties out of his wallet while Xander did the same.
"All right! Rack 'em," Trevor called excitedly.
Xander did, catching Dean's eye as he moved toward the end of the table, and he thought he saw the corner of Dean's mouth twitch in an almost smile.
"Solids it is," Trevor called with a grin when he pocketed the three ball on the break. Two more solids followed after that before Dean swaggered up to take the next turn.
This was where the difficult part began, Xander thought to himself, already feeling that twinge of nervousness nagging at the back of his mind, and he really hoped he didn't screw up. He didn't really feel all that worried though. He'd seen Dean play before. The man was better than most pros and could probably beat both Cody and Trevor on his own without Xander's help.
Which was why Xander was so shocked when Dean managed to pocket only one ball on his turn.
"Well hell, boys. You're not even putting up a fight." Trevor taunted. "Looks like this is going to be the shortest game of the night."
Xander turned to Dean with wide eyes, but the older man looked completely collected, nearly smirking, and he gave Xander an imperceptible nod.
Cody took his turn next, pocketing two more solids with a smile but not boasting nearly as loudly as Trevor would have.
Xander took a deep, nervous breath when he realized he was up next, taking a moment to chalk the end of his cue. Trevor slung a friendly arm around his shoulder. "Don't you fret too much, son. We'll buy you both a drink when this game is over…assuming you're old enough," he threw on at the end.
Xander looked at Dean, who looked back steadily, eyes alight with confidence and mischief, and Xander thought, if Dean thinks I can do this, then, damnit, I can. He shrugged Trevor's arm off, not even bothering to glare at the man, then moved over to the table, aimed, and shot, pocketing the thirteen with quick efficiency.
"Woo!" Trevor cat-called. "It's about time. Let's see you do that twice."
Xander ignored Trevor's jibes and pushed away his giddy excitement over having made a shot, focusing instead on his next lineup. This time, when he pocketed the fifteen ball with ease, Trevor remained silent, and when Xander sank the twelve next, he smirked at Trevor and said, "Guess that beginner's luck really is helping."
When Xander pocketed the ten ball on his fourth shot, with what Xander thought to be a rather impressive bank shot if he did say so himself, Trevor and Cody exchanged an uneasy glance. He didn't pocket anything on his fifth shot, but Xander thought four was a pretty damn good run, considering.
Trevor stepped up to the table next, looking damn unsettled, and before he could line up a shot, Dean clapped his shoulder and said, "Don't worry, man. When this game is over we'll buy you both a drink." Trevor was so flustered that he didn't manage to pocket anything.
Dean was openly beaming now and sharing grins with Xander. He sank only one ball again this time, but when Cody stepped up for his turn, he took one look at the layout on the table and muttered, "Aw, hell. You didn't leave me any shots."
Cody's turn was short-lived, not managing to pocket anything, and then it was Xander's turn again. He made short work of the nine ball, but when the cue ball's roll came to a stop it was nestled behind two solids which directly blocked its path to the eight ball.
"Well, let's see you make that one," Trevor goaded, regaining some of his confidence.
Xander glanced at Dean, whose expression seemed to say, dude, that's nothing, you've totally got this in the bag. Xander nodded, called "side pocket", then regarded the aim with renewed concentration. He elevated the cue, angling it just right, exhaled slowly, and then took the shot. The cue ball jumped, clearing the two solids and rolling a short way before impacting the eight ball, which rolled cleanly into the side pocket.
"Damnit!" Trevor blurted immediately, staring at the table like he just couldn't quite believe it. Then something dawned in his eyes, and he looked up at Xander and Dean with a surprised and somewhat offended expression. "You hustled us!"
Xander pulled a slightly panicked, 'who me?' look, and Cody laughed good-humoredly, slapping his friend on the back. "I told you, you have to watch out for the young ones. They're always trouble."
Trevor groaned, more embarrassed than angry. "Man, I can't believe we got owned like that."
"Just be glad Gary and Blake weren't here to see it," Cody tried consoling.
His eyes widened, imagining the humiliation. "Oh, they would never let us live this down."
"Well played, man." Cody nodded at Xander, and the younger man allowed himself a goofy grin.
Dean had already flagged down one of the waitresses and was charming his way into her good favor. "Hey darlin', would you mind bringing me and my buddies here a few cold ones?"
The waitress, brunette and busty, gave him a saucy smile. "For you, sugar? Anything."
"Gina never smiles at me like that," Trevor grumbled after the women had gone off to retrieve their drinks.
"That's because she's met you, so she already knows how much of an ass you are," Cody mocked, taking a seat at one of the nearby bar tables.
"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?" Trevor accused, but he was smiling as he pulled up a chair next to his friend.
Xander and Dean joined them, the four men settling into easy conversation, and a few minutes later Gina returned with four bottles of beer, doling out the first two to Trevor and Cody, then pausing after placing the third in front of Xander. "Are you really over twenty-one?"
"Of course he is," Dean butted in, flashing his knock-'em-off-their-feet smile. "We just age so well that we look much younger than we actually are. It's in our genes."
Xander may not know much about charming the ladies, but he still thought that was the lamest line ever, and by the expressions on Trevor's and Cody's faces, they thought so too. Gina, however, bought it hook, line, and sinker, practically putty in Dean's hands - or at the very least, wanting to be in Dean's hands.
She let go of Xander's beer and leaned closer to Dean, resting one hip against the table which drew Dean's eyes to her waist and the line of flesh not completely covered by her jeans or her top. "And just how old are you?" she asked coyly.
Dean dragged his gaze slowly up her body before meeting her eyes again. "Old enough to have plenty of…experience," he answered, voice heavily laden with innuendo.
Sitting next to Xander, Trevor made a cough behind his fist that sounded suspiciously like bullshit.
Gina's smile widened, though, and she placed Dean's beer on the table in front of him, leaning down to put her face closer to his and giving him a nice view of her cleavage. "Well," she said, voice smoky and just loud enough for the other three men to still catch her words, "I'm old enough to know better." With that, she gave him a wink and turned on her heel, sashaying back toward the bar.
Dean's eyes followed her backside, and he gave an appreciative sigh. "I like that one." He shook his head as if from a daze, and said, "Well, cheers." Then he gestured with his beer toward his companions before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a swig.
Xander followed suit, taking a tentative drink which was promptly met with an expression similar to one he made when he was eight and had thought mixing pixie sticks in with his chocolate pudding would be a great idea. It really hadn't been. At the face he made, the other three men at the table dissolved into laughter, Xander eventually joining in with a self-deprecating smile.
The next half-hour continued much the same, the four men joking and just generally shooting the shit. Xander found that the more he drank, the better the beer tasted - or the less he could taste - and as the beer started tasting better, the funnier the other three guys got. He was clutching his sides in laughter by the time he hit the bottom of his first bottle and Dean sweet-talked a second one out of Gina.
Trevor and Cody bailed shortly after that, and Dean split his attention between chatting Xander up and flirting with Gina. Xander, for his part, talked Dean's ear off about all things Sunnydale, Buffy, Willow, the virtues of Twinkies and moon pies, and at some point, despite a vague sense of warning in the back of his hazy mind, he let slip the story of why the substitute-teacher-turned-preying-mantis chose him as her 'project helper'. He didn't know it now, but he was probably going to regret giving Dean that kind of ammunition later.
Xander was about halfway through his second beer when Dean, eyes lit up slyly, asked, "So Sammy's planning something, isn't he?"
"Yep," Xander answered, not even stopping to think about it and about three sheets past the point of remembering why he really wasn't supposed to be talking about that, and even added with manic glee, "It's going to be gooooood."
"Yeah!" Dean grinned victoriously, thinking he'd hit pay dirt. "So what's it going to be?"
"I don't know," Xander shrugged brightly. "Sam didn't tell me."
Dean's good mood plummeted as he already knew that Xander was too far gone to be lying and that his chances of hacking Sammy's secret plan were now nil. "Well you're no help."
Xander frowned thoughtfully, trying think of a way to be more helpful, and seconds later he snapped his fingers - or tried to. "I know it won't have something to do with your clothes."
"Well that narrows it down," Dean deadpanned.
Xander collapsed into giggles, and Dean shook his head. When his laughter tapered off and he could breathe again, Xander took another swig of his beer. "This shtuff doesn't tashe, taize, taste," he managed on the third try, pronouncing the second t with a heavy tuh sound, "as bad as I think it did."
Dean's eyebrows arched up toward his hairline, and he reached across the table to grab the bottle out of Xander's hand. "And I think you've had enough."
"Okay," Xander returned easily, goofy smile still plastered on and no less happy for the loss of alcohol. "I'm really glad you guys found me," he managed with a smile and only some slight slurring, "er, that I founded you. I'm glad we were found."
"Yeah, me too," Dean added seriously, understanding the sentiment behind the words despite the lack of sense. "And I think that's our cue to leave before we start sharing our feelings." Standing from his seat, he added as an afterthought, "Or before you start puking."
Xander stood too, and it was only Dean's hand on his arm that kept him from swaying dangerously off-center.
Dean laid some money on the table, enough to cover the drinks and a healthy-sized tip for Gina, and then the two left, Dean giving Xander's arm a pull anytime he leaned too far in one direction.
*****
"SAMMY!" Xander greeted joyously the second he and Dean staggered through the motel room door.
"You got him drunk?" Sam asked incredulously, eyebrows inching upward when Xander leaned precariously to the right. He helped Dean to move Xander over to the far bed, lowering the younger man to a sitting position.
"One beer and a half, Sam," Dean defended. "He's even more of a lightweight than you are."
Xander gave them both a loopy grin as if he knew they were speaking about him.
"That's really responsible, Dean," Sam said, though the reprimand was dampened by the smile tugging at his lips. He shoved a bottle of water into Xander's hands. "Here, drink some of this."
"Had to give him the full initiation," Dean said.
"He's not even twenty-one yet," Sam chided lightly.
"As I recall, you were only sixteen the first time I got you drunk." And he'd had to do a lot of convincing back then just to get the little bookworm to go out with him and live it up a little. Kind of like he did now, really.
"And as I recall," Sam countered, turning around to face Dean, "Dad ripped you a new one for that."
Dean chuckled out loud as that memory bubbled to the surface. "Yeah, I never knew Dad's face could turn red that fast. But then, of course, right after that you told Dad that he was short and bossy and could shine it where the sun doesn't stick - worded exactly like that, I might add - and then passed out like a light, right there on your feet. Dad and I laughed so hard. I thought I was going to break rib." He still laughed about it now.
Sam frowned at him. "Dude, it didn't happen like that. I was not that wasted."
"That's just because you were too wasted to remember it right," Dean said, giving in to another bout of chuckles.
Sam rolled his eyes and turned his back on Dean.
They both looked at Xander, who was now laying back on the bed, feet still on the floor and out like a light.
"Nice," Sam stated dryly with a pained sigh. He crouched down and started pulling off Xander's left shoe.
"Sorry," Dean said, the chuckle in his voice voiding the apology. He started working on the right shoe. "But what better way to get drunk for the first time than when you have family around to watch your back?"
"Yeah, I'm sure he'll thank you for that when he wakes up tomorrow with a hangover."
"Well, there's no way he can be as surly as you were that next morning," Dean chuckled, casting a grin at Sam, who huffed a little at the barb.
For the second time in as many nights, Sam and Dean found themselves having to maneuver Xander into bed.
"Man, this is starting to become a habit. And he's heavier than he looks," Dean complained.
"You brought it on yourself this time," Sam muttered, and Dean supposed he was right.
Once they got Xander rolled onto the bed in what looked to be a more or less comfortable position, Sam stood wearily and gestured toward the other bed. "You can take the bed, I'll bunk here with Xander."
Dean eyed the other bed warily. Sure, it sounded like Sam was making a nice offer considering they hadn't been able to get a rollaway this time around, but he'd given that up way too quickly. He didn't think Sam had really been translating this whole time. Was the bed covered in itching powder? Surely nothing as lame as just short-sheeting it. There was just no out-pranking a master.
"I don't think so," Dean refused, laughing like he'd just caught Sam with his hand in the cookie jar. "No way I'm getting in that bed."
"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confusion playing over his face.
Like Dean was really going to buy that clueless act. "Come on, dude. You didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?"
"You know what? Forget it," Sam said, giving up on puzzling out whatever the hell Dean was talking about. "But if Xander pukes on you in the middle of the night, you've got nobody to blame but yourself."
When Sam stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt and crawled into the other bed without pause, Dean frowned. Guess there really wasn't anything wrong with the bed. He eyed the space next to Xander and wondered if maybe he shouldn't have just taken Sam up on that offer. But at least this way Sam wouldn't be able to do anything to him in his sleep without involving Xander in it. He didn't think Sam would prank him at the younger man's expense. And while a foghorn might not wake Xander, Dean was a light sleeper. He changed, flipped off the light, and crawled into bed on the other side of Xander, confident in the knowledge that there was no way Sam could pull one over on him.
*****
"Xander, you better wake up if you want to get a Twinkie. Dean's about to eat the last one."
As the whispered promise of junk food filtered through to his sleep-fogged brain, Xander raised his head and blearily looked around, his gaze eventually landing on an apologetic looking Sam.
"Sorry, no food. But trust me, you're going to want to see this," the older man gestured toward the bathroom door.
Xander sat up, inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand over his face, and then looked toward the door expectantly.
True to Sam's word, about two minutes later a startled yell came from the bathroom, and Dean came rushing out, eyes wild, a hastily wrapped towel around his waist…and a head of shockingly blue hair, sticking up haphazardly in wet spikes. "Sam!" Dean growled threateningly, dripping blue-tinted water on the motel carpet.
Dean's death-glare didn't have quite the desired effect as both Sam and Xander were overcome in a fit of hysterical laughter.
"I'm going to kill you two," Dean stated menacingly when the laughter died down enough to get a word in edgewise.
"Don't worry, Dean," Sam wheezed. "It'll grow out. Eventually." This set off another laughing fit for the two younger men, and Dean growled, going back into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.
Xander laughed so hard that it hurt, and he clutched his sides. He may have woken up with a headache but seeing Dean like that had definitely made it worthwhile. Instant hangover cure, really.
Dean spent the next half-hour trying to shampoo the blue out of his hair with little success. By the time Sam and Xander had showered and dressed, it was already lunchtime. As Dean refused to be seen anywhere, Sam and Xander were forced to forge for food at a local convenience store where they stopped to fill the Impala with gas.
They returned to the car with a few hot dogs and sodas, and at Xander's insistence a blue Slurpee for Dean, which Xander handed over saying, "Just for you, Papa Smurf."
Dean looked like he wanted to dump it over Xander's head and was only stopped by the mess it might make in his car.
Xander also dropped a baseball cap onto Dean's lap as Sam was passing out food and drinks. "Here, I grabbed you something to hide your shame."
"Well, it's the least you could-" Dean stopped short. "World's Best Fisherman?" he asked disdainfully, turning it around to show the embroidery on the front to Xander like he might have missed it when he picked it up.
"Sorry, " Xander said, not sounding particularly apologetic, "but the Mom 'n' Pop shop were all out of AC/DC caps. Beggars can't be choosers and all that."
"So what do you say? Truce?" Sam asked.
Dean scowled. "Are you kidding? You really think I'm just going to let this go?"
"Yeah, Sam, let's think about this for a second," Xander pitched in. "I mean, we still have so many other colors to try out. Purple, orange…what about green? That would really bring out his eyes. We could go rainbow-colored and call him Skittles."
"I don't know," Sam disagreed. "I really think pink is Dean's color. He seems to like it well enough when it comes to clothes."
"I bet we could find some matching nail polish," Xander added.
"All right! Fine! Truce!" Dean ground out.
With that, the Great Winchester Prank War of 2006 came to an unceremonious end, and just moments later the Impala screeched out of the parking lot.
*****
"I think we should pull over."
"You've got to be kidding me," Dean exclaimed, turning to glare at Xander over the seat. "Didn't you just go?"
"It's not me! Chester's starting to look really antsy back here. I think he's- Ooo! There!" Xander leaned fully over the seat and pointed off to the right, nearly taking Sam out with his arm.
Dean groaned when he saw the 'Welcome to Kansas' sign, a few sightseers already milling around in front of it. "Do we have to?"
"Do you really want Chester to pee on the floorboard?" Xander questioned rhetorically.
Dean pulled the car over, parking behind an RV, and Xander picked up the dog. "Come on, Chester, let's see if we can find some Blue's Clues for Dean," Xander said with a grin at the older man.
Dean called out, "Dude, that's just lame," as Xander jumped out of the car with Chester in his arms, taking the dog over to what looked like a nice patch of grass.
While Chester was busy taking care of business, Sam and Xander stretched their legs and watched a family of four pile back into the RV. They pulled away, and shortly after a truck pulled into the same spot, towing a small camper behind it.
An elderly couple got out, surveyed the landscape a bit, pointing at the 'Welcome to Kansas' sign, and then the woman made her way over to them. She looked just like a grandma, with short, curly, bluish-gray hair and a smile that said she probably spoiled her grandkids rotten and baked cookies all the time.
"Hello boys!" she greeted with a southern twang. She held a camera out to Sam. "Would you mind snappin' a picture of Ernie an' me? We've been taking pictures of every state we pass through and emailin' them to the grandkids. They just love hearin' stories about where we've been."
Sam gave her a smile. "Sure, ma'am. I'd be happy to."
As Xander watched the two return to where Ernie was standing, the elderly couple striking a pose in front of the state sign, a thought occurred to him and he climbed into the backseat, digging through his bag till he pulled out the disposable camera Buffy's mom had given him. "Come on, I want to get a picture of you guys," Xander told Dean, who had yet to get out of the car.
"No." Dean's tone was firm.
"Oh, come on, Gonzo, don't hold out on me!"
"See, and that's exactly why. In case you haven't noticed, my hair is blue." He gestured wildly toward his head.
Xander nearly laughed again at the reminder. It just got better and better every time he thought about Dean's psychedelic hair. He settled on saying, "Yeah, well, so is Grandma's. Maybe you two can bond over being Marge Simpson fans."
From the look Dean gave him, that wasn't really helping Xander's argument, so he added more seriously, "Please?"
Dean sighed and let his head drop on the steering wheel with an audible thump. "One picture," he relented.
Xander whooped, jumped back out of the car, and scooped Chester up from where he was chasing a butterfly. With Dean trailing reluctantly behind, he trotted up to the Kansas sign where Sam, Grandma, and Ernie were still standing around chatting. "Hey Sam, I want to get a picture of you and Dean," he said, handing Chester off to Sam and herding his brothers toward the sign.
"Say cheese," Xander said, readying to take the shot, but before he could snap a picture, Grandma snatched the camera out of his hands.
"You should be in the picture, too," she told him.
Xander shrugged and jogged over to join them, and Dean snagged a hand on his arm, positioning him between the two of them, saying, "Shortest in the middle."
They shuffled awkwardly and looked over at Grandma.
"Young man, that is a lovely shade of blue," Grandma commented to Dean.
Sam and Xander both laughed and turned to look at Dean who looked back at them with a disgruntled expression like he was trying to keep from saying something that wouldn't really be appropriate for a grandmother to hear.
Grandma snapped a picture, grinning impishly. "Oops! I suppose I should get a serious one now," she said.
They all faced the camera again and smiled, even if Dean's looked a little put out, and the old lady snapped a second picture.
"Thanks," Xander said, coming up to take the camera back.
The group stood around chatting for a bit longer until Chester started to doze off in Sam's arms, and then Dean started to shuffle his feet impatiently, aiming pointed looks toward the car. Sam caught on and started making their goodbyes, but it wasn't until after Grandma had given Dean a large zip lock bag of chocolate chip cookies that they managed to make it back to the car.
Xander climbed into the backseat, tucking his camera back into his bag, and then took Chester from Sam and settled the sleeping dog onto his lap. "See, Dean. I told you Grandma would like your hair."
Dean sighed and muttered, "Just for that, I'm keeping all the cookies to myself."
As they drove away, Xander looked out the window to see Grandma and Ernie waving goodbye, and Xander waved back for a moment before the figures became lost in a blur of cornfields.
*****
The last few hours on the way to Missouri's house passed a lot like the very first hours they all spent in the car together when they had left Missouri's several days ago. Xander fidgeted, chattered on endlessly, and basically made a nuisance of himself, Dean kept turning the music up to drown him out, and Sam wished he could be anywhere but inside that car.
In comparison to the mad dash they'd made to get to North Carolina, the return trip moved at a snail's pace. They only traveled for two hours at most before something had them pulling over: the car needed gas, Xander wanted a picture, Xander needed something to drink, Chester needed a potty break, Xander needed a potty break.
Amazingly, Dean relented to each stop with little prodding, whether because he was worried about what damage Chester could do or because he was developing a real soft spot for Xander, Sam wasn't sure. Not that Dean would ever admit to the latter, anyway. The constant, familiar banter was a dead-giveaway though.
The moon was already making its ascent into the sky when they finally broke the Lawrence city limits, and the banter was still going strong. But Sam didn't know how they could even hear each other over AC/DC. He listened silently, wishing he could drown out both the music and the nonstop chatter and maybe catch a little shuteye.
"Man, I hope Missouri's got some food. I'm starving," Dean complained.
Xander had his arms resting on the seatback between Sam and Dean, close enough that Sam could hear his reply, "This coming from the guy who ate all the cookies."
"I deserved those cookies."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
"And that's supposed to matter because?"
"Because I'm the oldest."
"Yeah, do you buy that, Sam? Because I don't. I think that's a crap rule."
Sam didn't even bother to comment, and it proved unnecessary anyway as Dean continued his argument, "Besides, you guys owe me for what you did to my hair."
"Which we only did because you turned our clothes pink. And besides, that was more Sam's doing than mine."
So much for solidarity, Sam thought.
"Right. Like you weren't busy playing decoy and keeping me distracted."
"As if that was a difficult task. I've seen four-year-olds with longer attention spans."
"Oh, and you're one to talk."
Sam had never felt so relieved in his life as when they rolled to a stop in front of Missouri's house. Sam climbed out of the car, took a deep breath, and stretched his arms high above his head, his back giving a satisfying pop.
Dean had already grabbed his bag and was moving up the front walk to Missouri's house, and Sam quickly followed suit. Dean wasn't the only one who was hungry, and like Xander, Sam hadn't had any luck getting Dean to share the cookies.
Sam was vaguely aware of the front porch light flicking on before he was suddenly plowing into Dean, who had come to a sudden stop.
"Dean, would you watch what you're-" The words died on Sam's lips as his eyes caught the shadowed figure standing on Missouri's porch, familiarity tugging at Sam. The figure moved, the porch light chasing away the darkness that shrouded it, and Sam felt a flare of recognition that took his breath away.
He was still blinking in shock, about to voice his astonishment when Dean beat him to the punch.
"Dad?"
*****
You're probably thinking I'm evil right now, and you might be right. I guess this chapter just screams for a cliffhanger. We're in the homestretch now folks. Two more chapters to go.
If you find yourself bored now after reading, take my poll about the future of the Distant Relations 'Verse: http://sierraphoenix.livejournal.com/23584.html