Missing Pieces
Title: Missing Pieces
Characters: Dean, Bobby, other canon character
Genre: Gen/AU in that a character long dead in canon is causing problems for Dean.
Rating: PG
Word count: 995
Summary: Someone else found Dean long before the djinn did in season 6/
A/N: For the prompt "a character finds a suspicious package" at spn_las
Dean’s in the supermarket less than five minutes and when he gets back to his pickup he finds another box on the front seat. The shopping bag hangs heavily from his wrist as he spins, eyes scanning the parking lot, free hand groping under his jacket for the gun that isn’t part of his wardrobe anymore. The lot’s bustling with shoppers and no one seems to be paying him any attention. Someone is, though. Dean’s spidey-sense wasn’t something he could pack in the Impala’s trunk and it’s tingling now as hard as he’s ever felt it.
He leaves a message for Lisa that he’s got a few more errands to run and heads somewhere private. The first anonymous box, left in his truck while he’d been working, had contained only salt and holy water but Dean’s not taking any chances. This package will be opened like the other; away from civilians, close to fire and with the packing tape slit by the silver knife sheathed under the driver’s seat.
Dean keeps a careful eye in the rearview mirror as he leaves town but if anyone’s following he can’t spot them. He’d called Bobby after the first box had arrived and he replays the conversation in his mind.
“I’m out, Bobby. Who would be sending me this shit?”
“Boy, I know you’re out, but a lot of people know who you are and a lot of things that ain’t people know who you are. You made a whole bunch of enemies on both sides of the fence in the last couple of years and if you don’t think any of them could find you … well, just tell me you haven’t gotten careless.”
“No. No, of course not,” Dean lied. It wasn’t that he was careless, but he couldn’t be as careful as he should be and still keep his promise to Sam. He couldn’t show up to work with a gun in his waistband and a silver knife in his boot. Neither could Lisa and Ben wasn’t getting anywhere near a weapon if Dean could help it. “Just… you have your ear pretty close to the ground, Bobby. You picked anything up?”
“If I had I woulda called, you idjit. Just let me talk to Sa… some people, and I’ll get back to you.”
Dean caught Bobby’s hesitation. “Some people? Got anyone specific in mind?”
“Nope. I’ll get back to you if I get anywhere on this. You take care of yourself, Dean.”
There’s a campground a few miles out of town, unused this time of year, and Dean pulls into a remote campsite. Out here no one will question smoke from a fire. The box opens easily under his blade and he uses the flat of it to lift the edges. There’s a smaller box inside and, still using the knife, he lifts the lid then freezes. He stares into the box until he can breathe again, then hooks the chain on the blade of the knife and lifts the necklace from the box.
It’s his amulet, he knows it like he knows the Impala, like he knew Sam. It’s been the cause of a million regrets, that symbolic trashing of his relationship with his brother.
“What the hell?” Movement catches his eye but it’s not Sam. Sam’s dead. Sam’s in hell and it’s not his brother, but Dean recognizes the man aiming a shotgun at him from across the fire. There’s a rustling from behind, but before he can react pain blossoms in his head and he thinks, I didn’t catch Gordon following me?
Dean wakes tied to a rickety chair in one of the cabins and stares blearily at the man seated across from him. “Kinda repetitive here, Gordo. Can’t come up with anything new?”
“Nah.” Gordon gives Dean a small smile. “I like to stick with what works.”
“Didn’t work too well last time, as I recall.”
“Got Sammy once, it’ll get him again. Figure you called someone when my packages started coming. Word’ll get to your brother, don’t worry.”
Dean shakes his head with mock pity. “Sam’s dead Gordon, has been for months. Died saving the world, not that you’ll believe that.”
“Sam’s not dead. I know you think that, Dean, but what you think about your brother and what’s true have always been pretty far apart.”
“You take your medication pretty far apart,” Dean mutters. “And where the hell did you get my amulet?”
“This?” Gordon swings the chain around his finger. “Took it off your knife.”
“I meant before that, genius.”
“Occult shop outside Toledo. Man who looked a lot like your brother sold it to them. Said he had no more use for it.”
“He’s dead, asshole.”
“He’s not, Dean. He’s back, worse than ever.” There’s a scratching sound from the back and Gordon smiles. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s predictable.”
A bullet splits Gordon’s skull and Dean can’t avoid his body as it falls. Consciousness deserts him again as his head hits the floor.
When he wakes this time, he’s in his truck. It’s parked alongside another remote road and he’s wearing the change of clothes he always keeps in the back. The amulet’s on the seat beside him and he slips it on as he calls Bobby. “It was Gordon Walker,” he says without preamble. “He was hunting Sam.”
“Fucking lunatic,” Bobby mutters. “You get him?”
“Someone blew his head off while I was tied to a chair.”
“Man had a lot of enemies. You see who did it?”
“Nah, I blacked out. You don’t think...”
“Sam’s gone, Dean. Don’t torture yourself thinkin’ any different.”
“Yeah. But..”
“No buts, boy. Walker was an obsessed nutjob, that’s all there is to it. Now take your ass home.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Bobby.”
Dean recovered a piece of himself today that he’d thought lost forever. As he drives, the amulet hangs heavy against his heart, a reminder that the biggest piece will always be missing.
Characters: Dean, Bobby, other canon character
Genre: Gen/AU in that a character long dead in canon is causing problems for Dean.
Rating: PG
Word count: 995
Summary: Someone else found Dean long before the djinn did in season 6/
A/N: For the prompt "a character finds a suspicious package" at spn_las
Dean’s in the supermarket less than five minutes and when he gets back to his pickup he finds another box on the front seat. The shopping bag hangs heavily from his wrist as he spins, eyes scanning the parking lot, free hand groping under his jacket for the gun that isn’t part of his wardrobe anymore. The lot’s bustling with shoppers and no one seems to be paying him any attention. Someone is, though. Dean’s spidey-sense wasn’t something he could pack in the Impala’s trunk and it’s tingling now as hard as he’s ever felt it.
He leaves a message for Lisa that he’s got a few more errands to run and heads somewhere private. The first anonymous box, left in his truck while he’d been working, had contained only salt and holy water but Dean’s not taking any chances. This package will be opened like the other; away from civilians, close to fire and with the packing tape slit by the silver knife sheathed under the driver’s seat.
Dean keeps a careful eye in the rearview mirror as he leaves town but if anyone’s following he can’t spot them. He’d called Bobby after the first box had arrived and he replays the conversation in his mind.
“I’m out, Bobby. Who would be sending me this shit?”
“Boy, I know you’re out, but a lot of people know who you are and a lot of things that ain’t people know who you are. You made a whole bunch of enemies on both sides of the fence in the last couple of years and if you don’t think any of them could find you … well, just tell me you haven’t gotten careless.”
“No. No, of course not,” Dean lied. It wasn’t that he was careless, but he couldn’t be as careful as he should be and still keep his promise to Sam. He couldn’t show up to work with a gun in his waistband and a silver knife in his boot. Neither could Lisa and Ben wasn’t getting anywhere near a weapon if Dean could help it. “Just… you have your ear pretty close to the ground, Bobby. You picked anything up?”
“If I had I woulda called, you idjit. Just let me talk to Sa… some people, and I’ll get back to you.”
Dean caught Bobby’s hesitation. “Some people? Got anyone specific in mind?”
“Nope. I’ll get back to you if I get anywhere on this. You take care of yourself, Dean.”
There’s a campground a few miles out of town, unused this time of year, and Dean pulls into a remote campsite. Out here no one will question smoke from a fire. The box opens easily under his blade and he uses the flat of it to lift the edges. There’s a smaller box inside and, still using the knife, he lifts the lid then freezes. He stares into the box until he can breathe again, then hooks the chain on the blade of the knife and lifts the necklace from the box.
It’s his amulet, he knows it like he knows the Impala, like he knew Sam. It’s been the cause of a million regrets, that symbolic trashing of his relationship with his brother.
“What the hell?” Movement catches his eye but it’s not Sam. Sam’s dead. Sam’s in hell and it’s not his brother, but Dean recognizes the man aiming a shotgun at him from across the fire. There’s a rustling from behind, but before he can react pain blossoms in his head and he thinks, I didn’t catch Gordon following me?
Dean wakes tied to a rickety chair in one of the cabins and stares blearily at the man seated across from him. “Kinda repetitive here, Gordo. Can’t come up with anything new?”
“Nah.” Gordon gives Dean a small smile. “I like to stick with what works.”
“Didn’t work too well last time, as I recall.”
“Got Sammy once, it’ll get him again. Figure you called someone when my packages started coming. Word’ll get to your brother, don’t worry.”
Dean shakes his head with mock pity. “Sam’s dead Gordon, has been for months. Died saving the world, not that you’ll believe that.”
“Sam’s not dead. I know you think that, Dean, but what you think about your brother and what’s true have always been pretty far apart.”
“You take your medication pretty far apart,” Dean mutters. “And where the hell did you get my amulet?”
“This?” Gordon swings the chain around his finger. “Took it off your knife.”
“I meant before that, genius.”
“Occult shop outside Toledo. Man who looked a lot like your brother sold it to them. Said he had no more use for it.”
“He’s dead, asshole.”
“He’s not, Dean. He’s back, worse than ever.” There’s a scratching sound from the back and Gordon smiles. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s predictable.”
A bullet splits Gordon’s skull and Dean can’t avoid his body as it falls. Consciousness deserts him again as his head hits the floor.
When he wakes this time, he’s in his truck. It’s parked alongside another remote road and he’s wearing the change of clothes he always keeps in the back. The amulet’s on the seat beside him and he slips it on as he calls Bobby. “It was Gordon Walker,” he says without preamble. “He was hunting Sam.”
“Fucking lunatic,” Bobby mutters. “You get him?”
“Someone blew his head off while I was tied to a chair.”
“Man had a lot of enemies. You see who did it?”
“Nah, I blacked out. You don’t think...”
“Sam’s gone, Dean. Don’t torture yourself thinkin’ any different.”
“Yeah. But..”
“No buts, boy. Walker was an obsessed nutjob, that’s all there is to it. Now take your ass home.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Bobby.”
Dean recovered a piece of himself today that he’d thought lost forever. As he drives, the amulet hangs heavy against his heart, a reminder that the biggest piece will always be missing.