Fic: It's a Long, Long Road - Supernatural (Pre-series gen ft. Dean & Adam) - Part 1/2
Title: It's a Long, Long Road
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Twisted-Slinky
Artist: Amber1960 (Amberdreams2013)
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 9300
Summary: Pre-series AU. Dean's sleeping off a hunt when he gets a call from a kid claiming to be his half brother. The weirdest part? It's true. He's already had one brother leave him, and Dean doesn't want to chance another rejection from his own blood, but for some reason, he can't simply forget Adam Milligan exists, even if he knows it would probably be safer for both of them.
Notes: Setting is early 2004. Sam, while a constant presence in Dean's mind, isn't featured in this story. Created as a mini-bang for the spn-gen-bigbang. A huge thank you to Amber1960 for the wonderful art, and a thank you to PatriciaTepes for giving this a quick beta read.
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Supernatural.
Link: Story Masterpost
PART 1
2004
Dean could hear the ringing, knew he should answer it, too, but he didn't rightly give a crap. He'd told himself he'd take a five minute breather before driving to the nearest run-down motel to sleep off the hunt. That was about thirty minutes ago, and he felt awful for abusing Baby, leaving her idle with the heater on full blast, trying to fight back the winter chill. Still, that whole moving thing? He wasn't in favor of it at the moment.
Groaning, he rolled his shoulder, trying to the loosen the stiff fabric beneath his leather coat, but it didn't do much good.
"Get it together, Winchester," he muttered, and forced himself to sit up a bit straighter and run his clean hand down his face.
He was about to put her in gear when he hear it again, that insistent ring, and raised a brow.
"Huh."
Wasn't he the one who was supposed to be calling, checking in with Dad? But the number that popped up across the screen was from one of John Winchester's burner phones. Dean might have lost a few minutes to a nap but he was certain, if by the moon above alone, that he wasn't late finishing up the job. And, while it might have went south, it was indeed finished.
Maybe his dad was a psychic and was calling to ream Dean for the screw-up with the black dog. That or he already had another job lined up for him.
Pain shot through Dean's shoulder, and he hissed. He'd really rather get yelled at right now, given the option.
Blood smeared over the face of the cell phone left it glowing green and red when it lit up with the incoming call. Dean picked it up off the passenger's seat and answered with a frown.
"I'm here."
There was a moment of silence, and Dean wondered if he'd waited too long to pick up. Maybe Dad had ended the call already.
"Uh…hi. Is this Dean Winchester?"
Panic felt like a rabbit on the run inside his chest. Dean didn't know the voice on the other end, and the only time that ever happened was when another hunter or a hospital worker was calling when John couldn't.
"Hello? Dean?"
Only this voice didn't sound like it belonged to a nurse. In fact it sounded too young and pitched. Like a boy's. How the hell would a kid have his dad's phone, though?
Dean's brow furrowed. "Who's asking?"
The guy on the other end let out a short, nervous breath. "Um, I, uh…My name is Adam. And I think I might be your brother."
Knuckles bone white on the steering wheel, eyes trained dead ahead, Dean had considered pulling over to make a list before he crossed into Minnesota, because he just had that many damn questions. Where the Hell did this kid come from, Dad? What happened to all those speeches about using protection? Were you really stupid enough to leave your phone out where he could find it? So, Dad, while I was on a hunt getting my ass kicked, were you enjoying your little family vacation? Because, he certainly didn't get a chance to ask any of them after his father had taken the phone from Adam and told Dean where to meet him.
Angry. His dad had actually sounded angry. At him. Where the friggin' hell did he come off being angry at him? Maybe he was angry at Adam, though. Dean didn't like that idea any better. And, Jesus, it kind of pissed him off that he was pissed off on the kid's behalf.
His dad met him at the motel room's front door, face stony and betraying nothing, despite the fact that his eldest was covered in blood and white as a sheet, and Dean couldn't help it. All those old questions disappeared and one new one popped into mind: why didn't you trust me enough to tell me? He didn't dare voice that one, despite how much he wanted to.
Dean followed him into the room. It was a single. Dad didn't plan on one of them staying here tonight, then. Dean snorted at that, already knowing the score. He wasn't stupid. This place? It was about two hours away from Windom. Away from Adam. John had needed to meet here because he didn't want Dean any closer to the kid.
Dean found a seat at the small table next to the TV, and John eased down onto the edge of the bed, leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees. The older man glanced down at the floor, gathering his thoughts, before he looked back up.
"I met Kate Milligan after a hunt," John started. "It was before I started bringing you along. I'd gotten roughed up by the ghoul I was after, and she was a nurse on duty. We got close, and…"
"Yeah, you can save me the birds and the bees, Dad. I know where babies come from." Dean shook his head. "When did you find out about him?"
John sat up a bit straighter. "A little over a year ago."
"And you've been meeting him, what, every couple of months? Whenever you can ditch me? Boy, that must have been convenient timing for you. Lose one son, gain another." Dean's smirk was bitter, and he regretted the words before they ever left his mouth, but he couldn't keep them down. "How's Sammy's replacement working out for you, Dad?"
"Don't!" John raised a hand, pointing a finger at his son as if it were a weapon. He was livid, and Dean almost expected a blow. He felt his body tense, readying itself for one, but John slowly lowered his arm again. "It's nothing like that, you understand me? Adam doesn't even know about hunting, and that's not going to change." He took a steadying breath. "Now, I don't know what's gotten into you, but I thought we could talk this over like adults. Instead you're acting like a kid."
"You don't know what's gotten into me? Well, I don't know, Dad, could it be that you've known you had another son for over a year, and it took you this long to tell me!" He ran a hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away his scowl. "Oh, wait, you didn't tell me. Adam did. Said he found your damn phone, saw a text message I'd left you - I guess I made the mistake of calling you 'Dad' in it. What if he hadn't decided to pick up the phone, Dad? Would you have ever told me?"
John's gaze hardened. "Enough with the attitude. I had my reasons for keeping this to myself, Dean. This kid wasn't raised a hunter. He's a civilian, and I thought - " His voice broke off, coming back a bit softer. "I thought keeping him away from as many hunters as possible would be the best way to keep him hidden from what's out there. To keep him safe from the thing that destroyed our family."
Dean soaked in the silence of the room. He could hear the lamp buzzing, could almost feel the heat of it burning into his eyes.
"Safe." His voice came out rough, like he'd been swallowing gravel, and Dean hated himself for sounding so caught up in this thing. He wanted to be able to brush it off. He wanted to be able to leave, but he couldn't. "You're just keeping him safe… Yeah, I get that. I do. Guess it's what any Dad would do for his son."
"Dean…"
"Dad," he returned, but then let it go. Dean stood up, slowly, cradling his injured arm. "You know, Dad, I've never regretted this life. Hell, I've thrown my everything into it, into being a hunter. But, Sammy didn't. It wasn't what he wanted, and you…He left, and you didn't stop him, but this kid, he's probably going to finish school, go to college, get an office job. Bet his dad will even show up for graduation. Now you tell me how keeping Sam safe meant keeping him with us and keeping Adam safe meant letting him be Joe Normal."
"It's not the same, and you know it." But John had lost most of his bite. His back arched as he leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and catching his face between his hands. He took a moment, breathing in and out, before he raised his head enough to speak again. "I'm sorry, Dean. That I didn't tell you. But I'm not sorry for leaving this kid out of our lives. I didn't have that option with you and Sam."
"But you have it with Adam." Dean swallowed, wanting to disagree, but he couldn't bring himself to it. "I know, Dad. I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have said that."
"You had a right to." John stood up, meeting Dean's eye. "He wants to meet you."
Dean turned away, feeling that rabbit in his chest again. He took a step to the door. "What, did you forget? I'm one of those hunters you want to keep him away from."
John sighed but didn't disagree. Dean wished he hadn't noticed.
"He's insisting," John replied, "and he's damn stubborn."
"Yeah, well, so am I. Guess we get that from our dad."
Dean stepped out into the night. He didn't hear his dad get up to follow him, but he assumed the man would, eventually, to get back to his family. Dean would make sure he was in another state before he answered the phone again. Preferably on a job. Anything to help him forget Adam Milligan existed.
It was cold outside, but the rot gut was still burning the back of his throat. He'd long since given up on the idea of getting drunk enough to put his mind to ease or finding a distraction of the female variety. It wasn't worth the hangover, especially if he still wanted to hit the road bright and early. He stepped out from under the yellow light above the entrance to the bar, trying to get a bit further from the rumble of music and laughter behind him. The Impala shined like a beacon in the parking lot, and he slid inside, staring out the frosted windshield at the night sky.
Dad wasn't with him.
It wasn't that strange, really. Since Sam had left for Stanford, Dean had been on quite a few hunts of his own, but this had been the longest they'd kept apart. They hadn't seen each other since the argument in Minnesota, over two weeks ago, but they'd kept in steady contact, business as usual. His dad was checking out a haunting in Nebraska while Dean investigated some murders involving missing hearts in Illinois.
Turned out to be a plain old human serial killer, not a werewolf. Dean had gotten out of dodge before the FBI caught their man, high-tailing it to Iowa. He'd figured he'd meet with his dad for their next case, but John had called before he'd been two drinks in, mentioning a weapons run with Caleb. Which meant his father was heading in the opposite direction.
When exactly had everything went to shit? All he'd ever wanted was his family by his side. The monsters, they were nothing, so long as the Winchesters stayed together. First Sam leaving and Dad throwing up a wall behind him, and now Dean was pretty sure his dad was avoiding his eldest too. Even the fuglies weren't showing up to keep him busy. The whole world seemed to be ignoring him.
And then Adam…Did he count? Nope. Dean couldn't put him on the list, not when he himself was the one avoiding that kid - wouldn't do to dwell on that.
Dean slammed his arms against the steering wheel, fighting back the surge of defeat welling up inside him. What the hell had he done wrong?
"I said 'no'," he whispered, and the anger slipped out of him, replaced by something gray and dull that nested in his chest. "Shit."
He closed his eyes and leaned back, calming himself down and fighting the urge to just surrender and let sleep take him, right there in the parking lot. An idea had been brewing, right there in the back of his mind, and it wasn't a way of fixing anything. It was just something to do, something that had been bugging him.
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to head to Windom. Not to meet up with the kid - hell, no. But just to get the lay of the land. In case there was an emergency, some reason he needed to get there and to the kid in a hurry. It was always good to be prepared. And he could almost hear a judgmental, "Not fair, Dean," being thrown in his direction. Sounded a hell of a lot like Sam's voice, because wasn't that what Dad had been doing? Running by Palo Alto whenever he was in the neighborhood, checking on Sam but never checking in with Sam?
Dean shrugged off the thought. It wasn't the same, but even still…it was a good idea. He didn't want a second little brother, but that didn't stop him from being the kid's big brother.
He cranked the Impala and mentally mapped out his new destination. A part of him knew he should probably call his dad, get the a-okay from him, but hell if would. If his dad wanted to avoid him? Well, two could play at that game.
Dean snorted at that. Sam would get a kick out of this fight between them, because, what was it Sammy always liked to throw at his big brother? He called him their father's obedient toy soldier. Things changed though; Dean wasn't sure when they'd changed, or what had changed them, but he was almost certain the firecracker that hit the gasoline was named Adam Milligan.
"Sammy, if you only knew…" he said, his half-smile sincere, and put on some tunes for the ride.
Staking out a house was business as usual for Dean. He knew how far away to stay, how to keep out of sight of nosy neighbors, and because he was well trained, he was certain he'd parked himself a bit too close to the Milligans' house. If someone looked out the window at the right time, they'd see him, standing just out of reach of a street lamp's yellow glow, leaning against a wooden fence, coat zipped high. He couldn't help it; after the first glance of them, he'd wanted to move closer.
He'd left the Impala a block over, since, doing the math, he was pretty sure his dad had driven it on more than one visit while Dean was laid-up after a hunt. Probably to show her off to the kid. It was recognizable, even if Dean wasn't, so he'd left the warm comfort she provided for the shit-it's-cold of Minnesota on a February night.
Dean pressed his gloved hands just a little deeper into the leather coat's pockets, but he didn't so much as shuffle his feet. He wasn't done here. Not yet.
The house in front of him was nice. Nice in that almost upper middleclass way. It wasn't very distinct, nothing too fancy, but it was two floors, bigger than a single mom needed. Dean had done his research, no thanks to John Winchester, and learned a bit more about Kate Milligan based on the bits and pieces to be found. Her family wasn't a big name in little Windom, but she'd inherited this place from her parents, so she must have been doing okay financially.
Not that Dean could say anything if she wasn't. John had raised them with barely more than a hope and a prayer in his wallet at any given time. Adam's mom seemed to have things together, at least on paper.
Dean shifted his weight, putting himself further in the shadows as he watched her bustle out of the front door carrying a tote bag and a purse, her pink scrubs and white coat bright against the darkness. She seemed to be in a hurry, running late for her shift. Dean's throat felt tight at the sight of her, even though, even in the distance, he could see that she didn't look much like Mary Winchester, past the blond hair. Still, the way she turned back, waving at the door with a bright smile…It reminded him of Mom.
Maybe that's why she'd caught Dad's eye in the first place. Dean swallowed hard, turning his attention away from her, to the doorway. It was already closed again, but he saw movement at the window.
A boy was staring out, watching his mom's small SUV drive off. Dean could barely see him, just a flash of light-colored hair and a thirteen-year-old's gawky figure. The kid probably should have been in bed already, but Dean figured this was part of his usual schedule, seeing his mom off when she worked the night shift at the hospital.
Dean figured that even as a 'normal' person with no kid brother to take care of, life with one parent wasn't a walk in the park. He pictured Adam helping with dinner, cleaning up the place, doing his homework. Nothing a thirteen-year-old couldn't handle. Hell, Dean had been doing more than keeping house at that age.
Dean frowned and took an aborted step back toward the Impala. "Okay, Winchester, you got what you came for," he muttered, and he had, mostly. He'd mapped out the town, saw where Kate worked, where Adam went to school - if there was ever a reason he needed to rush to Windom, he now knew everything he needed to know about getting the Milligans out of dodge. Still, he didn't move.
He glanced back, watching a light flicker on upstairs. Dad should have been there - Dean wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it hit him like a ton of bricks. For every second of the last few weeks he'd spent pissed as hell at John, it seemed out of place to be upset that his dad wasn't here, taking care of Adam. Because wasn't that what he was angry at? John being here, in Windom, when he should have been with his real sons?
Dean winced. Adam was real, just as real as him or Sammy.
And if Dad wanted him to be normal, well, normal kids had weird-ass families to lean on, too.
Dean let out a breath and it gathered in front of him like a cloud. "Shit," he announced, realizing he wasn't going to be able to talk himself out of making a stupid move. He rolled his eyes and pulled his cell phone out, finding the number his dad had sent him, 'just in case.'
Adam picked up on the second ring. "I'm working on my book report and not playing video games."
Dean's brow wrinkled in confusion, but he smiled after a second. "So, your mom always call to check up on you when she gets to work?"
"Uh, sorry, I thought you were - wait, how did you...?" Dean could hear movement as the kid scrambled up. "Is this Dean?"
"Can't believe you recognized my voice."
"Yeah, well, you sound kind of like Dad."
Dean chewed his bottom lip, trying to ignore the flop in the pit of his stomach. "No kidding?" He cleared his throat. "So, sorry to call so late, but I'm heading through the area tomorrow and - "
"You're coming? Here?" Adam interrupted.
Dean blinked, thrown off by the excitement in the kid's voice. He hadn't expected it. "I thought I might swing by if your mom doesn't mind." Adam was quiet a moment. Dean pinched his brow, suddenly regretting the call. He honestly didn't blame the kid for having mixed feelings. "If you guys are busy, that's cool, too. We can do it another time."
"No!" Adam snapped. "I mean, tomorrow's great…Do you need directions?"
Dean smirked to himself. "Nah. Got it covered." He cleared his throat. "You sure your mom won't mind a stranger dropping in like this? Maybe I should call back in the morning and ask her if it's okay."
Adam chuckled. "She'll be asleep in the morning…besides, you're not really a stranger."
I'm not? Dean rolled his shoulder, shrugging it off. "Uh, tomorrow then…Get back to that book report."
Dean ran a hand down his face, wiping away the sleep he hadn't managed to get the night before. He was early; he knew he was early, which was how he justified standing on the Milligans' front porch for the last ten minutes, rubbing his hands together to keep warm, blinking when the too-bright afternoon sun tried to perk him up, glancing over one shoulder to alternatively see if Adam was home from school or check for an escape route…He was seconds away from putting this off.
He'd waited until noon to try calling Dad. No luck, which wasn't a surprise considering he was on a run with Caleb - exactly what Dean had been counting on. He knew he'd pay for this surprise visit the next time he met up with John. Somehow, though, that inevitable confrontation wasn't what was making him nervous.
It was stupid, hesitating, since there wasn't anything to lose here. Dean had made sure he was in control. He's been the one to set up the meeting, he had his own transportation for the haul-ass option, and for once, he was the one who could run away. In theory.
That was all dependent on Adam not making the first move. On the kid not taking one look at him and deciding his half-brother didn't live up to expectations. Or, Hell, deciding he was boring. Which was maybe worse for a teenager.
Panic poured over him like cold water - what were they supposed to talk about? How he bar-hopped and played poker and lived out of his car? Because all the supernatural shit was off the table and most the rest was R-rated. And what if Adam was like Sammy at that age and didn't give a good damn about cars? Adam was on the honor roll - Dean had spotted the sticker on Kate's car - so there was a chance he'd wanna talk about what happened in algebra or asked to be tutored in, God help him, friggin' Shakespeare or something. Shit.
Dean could almost hear Sammy laughing at him in his head. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself on the 'conversation' issues, but it just proved he wasn't ready. He hadn't thought this through.
His dad was going to kill him, and his half-brother was going to think he was an idiot. Much like his whole-brother. Something they can have in common. Fan-friggin'-tastic.
Dean took one quick step back, nearly tripping over his own boot, but he steadied himself as soon as he heard the click of the front door opening.
"Dean?" Kate Milligan gave him a gentle smile, stepping out past the door frame. "Are you planning to stay out there all day?"
Dean opened and closed his mouth, suddenly perplexed as to why he was even here. Witch's spell? Seemed a likely answer at the moment. "Uh…No?"
"Come inside." The woman laughed, shaking her head at him. "I don't think John would like it if I let his eldest freeze to death on my doorstep."
Dean stepped inside, heat rushing to his face as he left the cold behind. Or, at least, that was what he kept telling himself. The smell of food cooking hit him next and his stomach let out a growl, making him just a little less eager to turn on his heel and pivot back out the front door.
"Something smells good," he commented.
"Lasagna." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Hope you'll be staying for supper since I made enough to feed an army."
"Uh, I'm not sure…might have to hit the road, and…" he left the reply hanging when he realized she wasn't even listening but gesturing for him to follow her into the living room instead.
A wave of uneasiness washed over him as he watched her turn her back to find the remote and switch off the television. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, her blue sweater over-sized and hanging far past the waist of her leggings, and she was wearing socks - it was her day off, if he had to venture a guess, but she was still attractive, if not his type. If he didn't know who she was to his father, he might have given her one of his lady-killer grins, even if she did have a good decade on him, but instead he frowned.
She'd just let him in. Like she knew him or something. What if he'd been a serial killer? Or worse…What if he hadn't been, well, him? Had Dad warded this place? Were there any permanent wards that covered everything? Maybe he should call up old Bobby Singer and check on that…
"Dean? Is something wrong?"
He blinked, then shook his head. The look of concern on her face made his stomach flip. Again. If this kept up, he was going to need some Tums. But she looked so damned sincere, like maybe she didn't mind him just dropping in to visit.
"I guess Adam told you I called," Dean said, then awkwardly lowered himself down to the sofa across from her chair. How come impersonating a an FBI agent felt easier than this gig? 'Cause this isn't a gig, stupid, he reminded himself.
"He did. And it's good that you came early. There are some things we need to talk about. Alone." Her gaze shot to the front door, as if checking it, then back to Dean. "I was glad to hear you'd changed your mind, Dean. Last time we spoke, John told me you were a bit hesitant to get involved after Adam called you. I don't blame you. Must've been a shock, finding out that way."
Her lips tightened into a line. That look, anger, that was what Dean had expected to see on Kate's face when she opened the front door, so he wasn't entirely surprised by it now.
"It's my fault, that John didn't tell you about him. At least partly," she said. "You shouldn't put all the blame on your father."
Dean's brow wrinkled when he realized that scorn on her face wasn't directed at him but at herself. "I doubt that," he replied, suddenly uncomfortable.
She winced at his reply, staring down at the coffee table between them. "When John finally told me he had two grown sons, ones he'd raised to do…what it is you do…" Kate took a deep breath. "I didn't react well. I didn't want him to involve Adam in that lifestyle."
"He didn't tell you about me and Sammy back when…?" Dean shifted to the edge of his seat when the rest of her statement sunk in. "Wait, you know what Dad does?"
She raised a hand, as if to stop him. "I know enough…I put some of the clues together when your father and I first met, but I didn't want it to be true, I didn't want to believe that things like that existed. I asked John about it. He told me enough to let me know that I wasn't going crazy, but I asked him not to tell me any more about it…I just…I'd rather not know what's in the dark."
Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "I get that." Sometimes he'd rather not know as well. But most times? He'd rather be prepared for all that was out there. Preferably with a gun in hand.
"And I don't want Adam to know either, if it can be helped. I thought at first that meant John telling me as little about the rest of his life as possible. Including you," she continued. She locked eyes with him. "But then Adam went and took the decision out of both of our hands…I don't regret that though. Now that you boys know about each other, I can't image keeping him in the dark - you should hear him go on and on about what you're probably like…"
Dean frowned at that. "Adam talks about me? We've only spoken, hell, maybe four sentences to each other."
"Don't tell him I told you that unless you want to see him imitate a tomato." Kate laughed to herself, as if Dean's reply had been amusing, and went on, "My point is, I do want Adam to know his family. I really do…Even if that means I have to tell him a few lies." Kate bit her bottom lip. "Which, I guess you should know, he thinks you and your father are private investigators and that you travel in your work. John wanted to tell him he was a traveling salesman…" She shrugged. "Frankly, PI was cooler."
"Not that far from the truth, actually." Dean chuckled, impressed, but his grin dimmed slightly, if only in his eyes. "You, uh, mentioned finding out about me, and Sammy, and…When did Dad tell you he had a family?"
"I shouldn't have brought that up. In case you haven't noticed, I kind of have a habit of talking too much - I think your father came home with me the first time just to shut me up…" She trailed off, blushing. "See what I mean?"
After a moment's beat, Kate reached across the coffee table, touching his clasped hands. Dean tried not to pull away, and failed, automatically sitting up straighter to get out of her reach. She pulled her arm back as if she didn't notice, a small, sad smile still on her face.
"I was pissed." He blinked at her statement, and she waved it off. "At your dad." Dean nodded along with that clarification, hoping to make light of it, but she cut him off. "He didn't tell me he already had two sons. Not until the second time he met with Adam."
Dean gave her a smile so crooked that it hurt. Or, at least, something hurt. He hoped it didn't show in his eyes. "Not something you advertise," he said, and his mouth tasted sour. "I'm sure he had his reasons."
In the back of his mind, he heard Sam of yesteryear, his voice high and pitched like Adam's hollow echo on the phone, 'You're always taking up for him, even when he's hurting you, too. Why do you do that, Dean? Why are you always defending Dad?' That hadn't really sounded like the truth until now. And he still didn't have an answer for Sam, other than the obvious: he's our dad.
Kate frowned. "Dean, he didn't do it because -"
Her voice cut off at the sound of the front door opening. A figure shot in, a tad too fast, and then slowed to a stop at the entry of the living room, a backpack dropping to the floor at his feet. The boy took a breath, playing it cool with a nod of his head that wasn't all that convincing.
"Hey, Mom. Sorry I'm home late."
Dean raised a brow, not needing to look at his watch to know the kid was actually early.
Adam, wearing a twitchy grin that refused to be bitten down, swallowed nervously when he noticed Dean. His blue eyes widened. "And, uh, hi, you must be Dean."
"I must be," Dean replied, mimicking the boy subconsciously.
It was the first time Dean was able to get a decent look at the kid. Even between a layer of coat and hoodie, he was skinny, a bit on the small side for his age, but, from his string-bean limbs and narrow shoulders, Dean would put money on the kid having gained a couple inches in height over the past few months alone. His hair was a lighter shade than Dean's, ashy blond at the tips where it spiked out above his brow. His teeth were too white and too big for his head, and every one of them seemed to show, even though he was trying not to smile.
Most of all, he looked like a normal kid; Dean could have passed him on the street and had no clue that they shared blood. He could have went his whole life without knowing…That thought sent the comment on the tip of his tongue back down his throat. He felt a tap on his shoulder and almost grabbed Kate's wrist before he realized she was standing beside him.
"You boys have a lot to talk about." She stepped past him, giving Adam a similar pat and an extra squeeze as she walked past. "Dinner in twenty," echoed back from the next room.
Adam shifted his weight, using the move to kick his bag out of the main path. "So…"
"So," Dean returned and shook off the moment of silence. "Finish that book report?"
The tenseness left Adam's shoulders. "Yup. Mrs. Hardin liked it." He took a few more steps into the room, his eyes flickering down to Dean's worn biker boots and back up to his face. "You look like Dad," he said, his voice a bit quieter.
Dean flinched but hid it with a quick glance down at the coffee table. "I do?"
"Just not as old," Adam clarified. "I mean, you look more like his son than I - " His brow wrinkled slightly, but he shrugged off whatever he was about to say. "You look like how I pictured you."
Dean was thrown by the comment. Okay, not the greeting I expected…What the hell kind of greeting was I expecting again? And he had no clue how to reply to that, because he remembered being small and his dad twisting his wedding band, muttering that Dean looked so much like Mary.
"So you pictured having an incredibly handsome older brother?" Dean answered and almost choked on the words. He hadn't expected to use that term, 'brother', quite so soon. The kid didn't seem to notice.
Adam rolled his eyes, but his smile widened. "Yeah, because I have so many girls after me, I need a diversion."
"Well played," Dean admitted, smirking.
"Do you like video games? I have a PS2."
Dean shrugged, a weight leaving his chest with the change of topic. "Not really had the chance to play any."
"Seriously?" Adam shook his head. "I knew you were old, but not that old."
"Bite me."
Adam snorted, picking up his bag again. "Should be pretty easy to kick your butt in Tekken," he mused, headed toward the staircase. He glanced back over his shoulder. "You coming?" He frowned. "I mean, you don't have to, if you want to stay down here and talk about…stuff. We could do that instead."
Dean quickly stood, moving to follow. He'd take a half-hour of some game over chick-flick moments any day. "I don't know what the hell a 'Tekken' is, but prepare to be schooled, kid."
PART 2
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Twisted-Slinky
Artist: Amber1960 (Amberdreams2013)
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 9300
Summary: Pre-series AU. Dean's sleeping off a hunt when he gets a call from a kid claiming to be his half brother. The weirdest part? It's true. He's already had one brother leave him, and Dean doesn't want to chance another rejection from his own blood, but for some reason, he can't simply forget Adam Milligan exists, even if he knows it would probably be safer for both of them.
Notes: Setting is early 2004. Sam, while a constant presence in Dean's mind, isn't featured in this story. Created as a mini-bang for the spn-gen-bigbang. A huge thank you to Amber1960 for the wonderful art, and a thank you to PatriciaTepes for giving this a quick beta read.
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Supernatural.
Link: Story Masterpost
PART 1
2004
Dean could hear the ringing, knew he should answer it, too, but he didn't rightly give a crap. He'd told himself he'd take a five minute breather before driving to the nearest run-down motel to sleep off the hunt. That was about thirty minutes ago, and he felt awful for abusing Baby, leaving her idle with the heater on full blast, trying to fight back the winter chill. Still, that whole moving thing? He wasn't in favor of it at the moment.
Groaning, he rolled his shoulder, trying to the loosen the stiff fabric beneath his leather coat, but it didn't do much good.
"Get it together, Winchester," he muttered, and forced himself to sit up a bit straighter and run his clean hand down his face.
He was about to put her in gear when he hear it again, that insistent ring, and raised a brow.
"Huh."
Wasn't he the one who was supposed to be calling, checking in with Dad? But the number that popped up across the screen was from one of John Winchester's burner phones. Dean might have lost a few minutes to a nap but he was certain, if by the moon above alone, that he wasn't late finishing up the job. And, while it might have went south, it was indeed finished.
Maybe his dad was a psychic and was calling to ream Dean for the screw-up with the black dog. That or he already had another job lined up for him.
Pain shot through Dean's shoulder, and he hissed. He'd really rather get yelled at right now, given the option.
Blood smeared over the face of the cell phone left it glowing green and red when it lit up with the incoming call. Dean picked it up off the passenger's seat and answered with a frown.
"I'm here."
There was a moment of silence, and Dean wondered if he'd waited too long to pick up. Maybe Dad had ended the call already.
"Uh…hi. Is this Dean Winchester?"
Panic felt like a rabbit on the run inside his chest. Dean didn't know the voice on the other end, and the only time that ever happened was when another hunter or a hospital worker was calling when John couldn't.
"Hello? Dean?"
Only this voice didn't sound like it belonged to a nurse. In fact it sounded too young and pitched. Like a boy's. How the hell would a kid have his dad's phone, though?
Dean's brow furrowed. "Who's asking?"
The guy on the other end let out a short, nervous breath. "Um, I, uh…My name is Adam. And I think I might be your brother."
Knuckles bone white on the steering wheel, eyes trained dead ahead, Dean had considered pulling over to make a list before he crossed into Minnesota, because he just had that many damn questions. Where the Hell did this kid come from, Dad? What happened to all those speeches about using protection? Were you really stupid enough to leave your phone out where he could find it? So, Dad, while I was on a hunt getting my ass kicked, were you enjoying your little family vacation? Because, he certainly didn't get a chance to ask any of them after his father had taken the phone from Adam and told Dean where to meet him.
Angry. His dad had actually sounded angry. At him. Where the friggin' hell did he come off being angry at him? Maybe he was angry at Adam, though. Dean didn't like that idea any better. And, Jesus, it kind of pissed him off that he was pissed off on the kid's behalf.
His dad met him at the motel room's front door, face stony and betraying nothing, despite the fact that his eldest was covered in blood and white as a sheet, and Dean couldn't help it. All those old questions disappeared and one new one popped into mind: why didn't you trust me enough to tell me? He didn't dare voice that one, despite how much he wanted to.
Dean followed him into the room. It was a single. Dad didn't plan on one of them staying here tonight, then. Dean snorted at that, already knowing the score. He wasn't stupid. This place? It was about two hours away from Windom. Away from Adam. John had needed to meet here because he didn't want Dean any closer to the kid.
Dean found a seat at the small table next to the TV, and John eased down onto the edge of the bed, leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees. The older man glanced down at the floor, gathering his thoughts, before he looked back up.
"I met Kate Milligan after a hunt," John started. "It was before I started bringing you along. I'd gotten roughed up by the ghoul I was after, and she was a nurse on duty. We got close, and…"
"Yeah, you can save me the birds and the bees, Dad. I know where babies come from." Dean shook his head. "When did you find out about him?"
John sat up a bit straighter. "A little over a year ago."
"And you've been meeting him, what, every couple of months? Whenever you can ditch me? Boy, that must have been convenient timing for you. Lose one son, gain another." Dean's smirk was bitter, and he regretted the words before they ever left his mouth, but he couldn't keep them down. "How's Sammy's replacement working out for you, Dad?"
"Don't!" John raised a hand, pointing a finger at his son as if it were a weapon. He was livid, and Dean almost expected a blow. He felt his body tense, readying itself for one, but John slowly lowered his arm again. "It's nothing like that, you understand me? Adam doesn't even know about hunting, and that's not going to change." He took a steadying breath. "Now, I don't know what's gotten into you, but I thought we could talk this over like adults. Instead you're acting like a kid."
"You don't know what's gotten into me? Well, I don't know, Dad, could it be that you've known you had another son for over a year, and it took you this long to tell me!" He ran a hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away his scowl. "Oh, wait, you didn't tell me. Adam did. Said he found your damn phone, saw a text message I'd left you - I guess I made the mistake of calling you 'Dad' in it. What if he hadn't decided to pick up the phone, Dad? Would you have ever told me?"
John's gaze hardened. "Enough with the attitude. I had my reasons for keeping this to myself, Dean. This kid wasn't raised a hunter. He's a civilian, and I thought - " His voice broke off, coming back a bit softer. "I thought keeping him away from as many hunters as possible would be the best way to keep him hidden from what's out there. To keep him safe from the thing that destroyed our family."
Dean soaked in the silence of the room. He could hear the lamp buzzing, could almost feel the heat of it burning into his eyes.
"Safe." His voice came out rough, like he'd been swallowing gravel, and Dean hated himself for sounding so caught up in this thing. He wanted to be able to brush it off. He wanted to be able to leave, but he couldn't. "You're just keeping him safe… Yeah, I get that. I do. Guess it's what any Dad would do for his son."
"Dean…"
"Dad," he returned, but then let it go. Dean stood up, slowly, cradling his injured arm. "You know, Dad, I've never regretted this life. Hell, I've thrown my everything into it, into being a hunter. But, Sammy didn't. It wasn't what he wanted, and you…He left, and you didn't stop him, but this kid, he's probably going to finish school, go to college, get an office job. Bet his dad will even show up for graduation. Now you tell me how keeping Sam safe meant keeping him with us and keeping Adam safe meant letting him be Joe Normal."
"It's not the same, and you know it." But John had lost most of his bite. His back arched as he leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and catching his face between his hands. He took a moment, breathing in and out, before he raised his head enough to speak again. "I'm sorry, Dean. That I didn't tell you. But I'm not sorry for leaving this kid out of our lives. I didn't have that option with you and Sam."
"But you have it with Adam." Dean swallowed, wanting to disagree, but he couldn't bring himself to it. "I know, Dad. I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have said that."
"You had a right to." John stood up, meeting Dean's eye. "He wants to meet you."
Dean turned away, feeling that rabbit in his chest again. He took a step to the door. "What, did you forget? I'm one of those hunters you want to keep him away from."
John sighed but didn't disagree. Dean wished he hadn't noticed.
"He's insisting," John replied, "and he's damn stubborn."
"Yeah, well, so am I. Guess we get that from our dad."
Dean stepped out into the night. He didn't hear his dad get up to follow him, but he assumed the man would, eventually, to get back to his family. Dean would make sure he was in another state before he answered the phone again. Preferably on a job. Anything to help him forget Adam Milligan existed.
It was cold outside, but the rot gut was still burning the back of his throat. He'd long since given up on the idea of getting drunk enough to put his mind to ease or finding a distraction of the female variety. It wasn't worth the hangover, especially if he still wanted to hit the road bright and early. He stepped out from under the yellow light above the entrance to the bar, trying to get a bit further from the rumble of music and laughter behind him. The Impala shined like a beacon in the parking lot, and he slid inside, staring out the frosted windshield at the night sky.
Dad wasn't with him.
It wasn't that strange, really. Since Sam had left for Stanford, Dean had been on quite a few hunts of his own, but this had been the longest they'd kept apart. They hadn't seen each other since the argument in Minnesota, over two weeks ago, but they'd kept in steady contact, business as usual. His dad was checking out a haunting in Nebraska while Dean investigated some murders involving missing hearts in Illinois.
Turned out to be a plain old human serial killer, not a werewolf. Dean had gotten out of dodge before the FBI caught their man, high-tailing it to Iowa. He'd figured he'd meet with his dad for their next case, but John had called before he'd been two drinks in, mentioning a weapons run with Caleb. Which meant his father was heading in the opposite direction.
When exactly had everything went to shit? All he'd ever wanted was his family by his side. The monsters, they were nothing, so long as the Winchesters stayed together. First Sam leaving and Dad throwing up a wall behind him, and now Dean was pretty sure his dad was avoiding his eldest too. Even the fuglies weren't showing up to keep him busy. The whole world seemed to be ignoring him.
And then Adam…Did he count? Nope. Dean couldn't put him on the list, not when he himself was the one avoiding that kid - wouldn't do to dwell on that.
Dean slammed his arms against the steering wheel, fighting back the surge of defeat welling up inside him. What the hell had he done wrong?
"I said 'no'," he whispered, and the anger slipped out of him, replaced by something gray and dull that nested in his chest. "Shit."
He closed his eyes and leaned back, calming himself down and fighting the urge to just surrender and let sleep take him, right there in the parking lot. An idea had been brewing, right there in the back of his mind, and it wasn't a way of fixing anything. It was just something to do, something that had been bugging him.
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to head to Windom. Not to meet up with the kid - hell, no. But just to get the lay of the land. In case there was an emergency, some reason he needed to get there and to the kid in a hurry. It was always good to be prepared. And he could almost hear a judgmental, "Not fair, Dean," being thrown in his direction. Sounded a hell of a lot like Sam's voice, because wasn't that what Dad had been doing? Running by Palo Alto whenever he was in the neighborhood, checking on Sam but never checking in with Sam?
Dean shrugged off the thought. It wasn't the same, but even still…it was a good idea. He didn't want a second little brother, but that didn't stop him from being the kid's big brother.
He cranked the Impala and mentally mapped out his new destination. A part of him knew he should probably call his dad, get the a-okay from him, but hell if would. If his dad wanted to avoid him? Well, two could play at that game.
Dean snorted at that. Sam would get a kick out of this fight between them, because, what was it Sammy always liked to throw at his big brother? He called him their father's obedient toy soldier. Things changed though; Dean wasn't sure when they'd changed, or what had changed them, but he was almost certain the firecracker that hit the gasoline was named Adam Milligan.
"Sammy, if you only knew…" he said, his half-smile sincere, and put on some tunes for the ride.
Staking out a house was business as usual for Dean. He knew how far away to stay, how to keep out of sight of nosy neighbors, and because he was well trained, he was certain he'd parked himself a bit too close to the Milligans' house. If someone looked out the window at the right time, they'd see him, standing just out of reach of a street lamp's yellow glow, leaning against a wooden fence, coat zipped high. He couldn't help it; after the first glance of them, he'd wanted to move closer.
He'd left the Impala a block over, since, doing the math, he was pretty sure his dad had driven it on more than one visit while Dean was laid-up after a hunt. Probably to show her off to the kid. It was recognizable, even if Dean wasn't, so he'd left the warm comfort she provided for the shit-it's-cold of Minnesota on a February night.
Dean pressed his gloved hands just a little deeper into the leather coat's pockets, but he didn't so much as shuffle his feet. He wasn't done here. Not yet.
The house in front of him was nice. Nice in that almost upper middleclass way. It wasn't very distinct, nothing too fancy, but it was two floors, bigger than a single mom needed. Dean had done his research, no thanks to John Winchester, and learned a bit more about Kate Milligan based on the bits and pieces to be found. Her family wasn't a big name in little Windom, but she'd inherited this place from her parents, so she must have been doing okay financially.
Not that Dean could say anything if she wasn't. John had raised them with barely more than a hope and a prayer in his wallet at any given time. Adam's mom seemed to have things together, at least on paper.
Dean shifted his weight, putting himself further in the shadows as he watched her bustle out of the front door carrying a tote bag and a purse, her pink scrubs and white coat bright against the darkness. She seemed to be in a hurry, running late for her shift. Dean's throat felt tight at the sight of her, even though, even in the distance, he could see that she didn't look much like Mary Winchester, past the blond hair. Still, the way she turned back, waving at the door with a bright smile…It reminded him of Mom.
Maybe that's why she'd caught Dad's eye in the first place. Dean swallowed hard, turning his attention away from her, to the doorway. It was already closed again, but he saw movement at the window.
A boy was staring out, watching his mom's small SUV drive off. Dean could barely see him, just a flash of light-colored hair and a thirteen-year-old's gawky figure. The kid probably should have been in bed already, but Dean figured this was part of his usual schedule, seeing his mom off when she worked the night shift at the hospital.
Dean figured that even as a 'normal' person with no kid brother to take care of, life with one parent wasn't a walk in the park. He pictured Adam helping with dinner, cleaning up the place, doing his homework. Nothing a thirteen-year-old couldn't handle. Hell, Dean had been doing more than keeping house at that age.
Dean frowned and took an aborted step back toward the Impala. "Okay, Winchester, you got what you came for," he muttered, and he had, mostly. He'd mapped out the town, saw where Kate worked, where Adam went to school - if there was ever a reason he needed to rush to Windom, he now knew everything he needed to know about getting the Milligans out of dodge. Still, he didn't move.
He glanced back, watching a light flicker on upstairs. Dad should have been there - Dean wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it hit him like a ton of bricks. For every second of the last few weeks he'd spent pissed as hell at John, it seemed out of place to be upset that his dad wasn't here, taking care of Adam. Because wasn't that what he was angry at? John being here, in Windom, when he should have been with his real sons?
Dean winced. Adam was real, just as real as him or Sammy.
And if Dad wanted him to be normal, well, normal kids had weird-ass families to lean on, too.
Dean let out a breath and it gathered in front of him like a cloud. "Shit," he announced, realizing he wasn't going to be able to talk himself out of making a stupid move. He rolled his eyes and pulled his cell phone out, finding the number his dad had sent him, 'just in case.'
Adam picked up on the second ring. "I'm working on my book report and not playing video games."
Dean's brow wrinkled in confusion, but he smiled after a second. "So, your mom always call to check up on you when she gets to work?"
"Uh, sorry, I thought you were - wait, how did you...?" Dean could hear movement as the kid scrambled up. "Is this Dean?"
"Can't believe you recognized my voice."
"Yeah, well, you sound kind of like Dad."
Dean chewed his bottom lip, trying to ignore the flop in the pit of his stomach. "No kidding?" He cleared his throat. "So, sorry to call so late, but I'm heading through the area tomorrow and - "
"You're coming? Here?" Adam interrupted.
Dean blinked, thrown off by the excitement in the kid's voice. He hadn't expected it. "I thought I might swing by if your mom doesn't mind." Adam was quiet a moment. Dean pinched his brow, suddenly regretting the call. He honestly didn't blame the kid for having mixed feelings. "If you guys are busy, that's cool, too. We can do it another time."
"No!" Adam snapped. "I mean, tomorrow's great…Do you need directions?"
Dean smirked to himself. "Nah. Got it covered." He cleared his throat. "You sure your mom won't mind a stranger dropping in like this? Maybe I should call back in the morning and ask her if it's okay."
Adam chuckled. "She'll be asleep in the morning…besides, you're not really a stranger."
I'm not? Dean rolled his shoulder, shrugging it off. "Uh, tomorrow then…Get back to that book report."
Dean ran a hand down his face, wiping away the sleep he hadn't managed to get the night before. He was early; he knew he was early, which was how he justified standing on the Milligans' front porch for the last ten minutes, rubbing his hands together to keep warm, blinking when the too-bright afternoon sun tried to perk him up, glancing over one shoulder to alternatively see if Adam was home from school or check for an escape route…He was seconds away from putting this off.
He'd waited until noon to try calling Dad. No luck, which wasn't a surprise considering he was on a run with Caleb - exactly what Dean had been counting on. He knew he'd pay for this surprise visit the next time he met up with John. Somehow, though, that inevitable confrontation wasn't what was making him nervous.
It was stupid, hesitating, since there wasn't anything to lose here. Dean had made sure he was in control. He's been the one to set up the meeting, he had his own transportation for the haul-ass option, and for once, he was the one who could run away. In theory.
That was all dependent on Adam not making the first move. On the kid not taking one look at him and deciding his half-brother didn't live up to expectations. Or, Hell, deciding he was boring. Which was maybe worse for a teenager.
Panic poured over him like cold water - what were they supposed to talk about? How he bar-hopped and played poker and lived out of his car? Because all the supernatural shit was off the table and most the rest was R-rated. And what if Adam was like Sammy at that age and didn't give a good damn about cars? Adam was on the honor roll - Dean had spotted the sticker on Kate's car - so there was a chance he'd wanna talk about what happened in algebra or asked to be tutored in, God help him, friggin' Shakespeare or something. Shit.
Dean could almost hear Sammy laughing at him in his head. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself on the 'conversation' issues, but it just proved he wasn't ready. He hadn't thought this through.
His dad was going to kill him, and his half-brother was going to think he was an idiot. Much like his whole-brother. Something they can have in common. Fan-friggin'-tastic.
Dean took one quick step back, nearly tripping over his own boot, but he steadied himself as soon as he heard the click of the front door opening.
"Dean?" Kate Milligan gave him a gentle smile, stepping out past the door frame. "Are you planning to stay out there all day?"
Dean opened and closed his mouth, suddenly perplexed as to why he was even here. Witch's spell? Seemed a likely answer at the moment. "Uh…No?"
"Come inside." The woman laughed, shaking her head at him. "I don't think John would like it if I let his eldest freeze to death on my doorstep."
Dean stepped inside, heat rushing to his face as he left the cold behind. Or, at least, that was what he kept telling himself. The smell of food cooking hit him next and his stomach let out a growl, making him just a little less eager to turn on his heel and pivot back out the front door.
"Something smells good," he commented.
"Lasagna." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Hope you'll be staying for supper since I made enough to feed an army."
"Uh, I'm not sure…might have to hit the road, and…" he left the reply hanging when he realized she wasn't even listening but gesturing for him to follow her into the living room instead.
A wave of uneasiness washed over him as he watched her turn her back to find the remote and switch off the television. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, her blue sweater over-sized and hanging far past the waist of her leggings, and she was wearing socks - it was her day off, if he had to venture a guess, but she was still attractive, if not his type. If he didn't know who she was to his father, he might have given her one of his lady-killer grins, even if she did have a good decade on him, but instead he frowned.
She'd just let him in. Like she knew him or something. What if he'd been a serial killer? Or worse…What if he hadn't been, well, him? Had Dad warded this place? Were there any permanent wards that covered everything? Maybe he should call up old Bobby Singer and check on that…
"Dean? Is something wrong?"
He blinked, then shook his head. The look of concern on her face made his stomach flip. Again. If this kept up, he was going to need some Tums. But she looked so damned sincere, like maybe she didn't mind him just dropping in to visit.
"I guess Adam told you I called," Dean said, then awkwardly lowered himself down to the sofa across from her chair. How come impersonating a an FBI agent felt easier than this gig? 'Cause this isn't a gig, stupid, he reminded himself.
"He did. And it's good that you came early. There are some things we need to talk about. Alone." Her gaze shot to the front door, as if checking it, then back to Dean. "I was glad to hear you'd changed your mind, Dean. Last time we spoke, John told me you were a bit hesitant to get involved after Adam called you. I don't blame you. Must've been a shock, finding out that way."
Her lips tightened into a line. That look, anger, that was what Dean had expected to see on Kate's face when she opened the front door, so he wasn't entirely surprised by it now.
"It's my fault, that John didn't tell you about him. At least partly," she said. "You shouldn't put all the blame on your father."
Dean's brow wrinkled when he realized that scorn on her face wasn't directed at him but at herself. "I doubt that," he replied, suddenly uncomfortable.
She winced at his reply, staring down at the coffee table between them. "When John finally told me he had two grown sons, ones he'd raised to do…what it is you do…" Kate took a deep breath. "I didn't react well. I didn't want him to involve Adam in that lifestyle."
"He didn't tell you about me and Sammy back when…?" Dean shifted to the edge of his seat when the rest of her statement sunk in. "Wait, you know what Dad does?"
She raised a hand, as if to stop him. "I know enough…I put some of the clues together when your father and I first met, but I didn't want it to be true, I didn't want to believe that things like that existed. I asked John about it. He told me enough to let me know that I wasn't going crazy, but I asked him not to tell me any more about it…I just…I'd rather not know what's in the dark."
Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "I get that." Sometimes he'd rather not know as well. But most times? He'd rather be prepared for all that was out there. Preferably with a gun in hand.
"And I don't want Adam to know either, if it can be helped. I thought at first that meant John telling me as little about the rest of his life as possible. Including you," she continued. She locked eyes with him. "But then Adam went and took the decision out of both of our hands…I don't regret that though. Now that you boys know about each other, I can't image keeping him in the dark - you should hear him go on and on about what you're probably like…"
Dean frowned at that. "Adam talks about me? We've only spoken, hell, maybe four sentences to each other."
"Don't tell him I told you that unless you want to see him imitate a tomato." Kate laughed to herself, as if Dean's reply had been amusing, and went on, "My point is, I do want Adam to know his family. I really do…Even if that means I have to tell him a few lies." Kate bit her bottom lip. "Which, I guess you should know, he thinks you and your father are private investigators and that you travel in your work. John wanted to tell him he was a traveling salesman…" She shrugged. "Frankly, PI was cooler."
"Not that far from the truth, actually." Dean chuckled, impressed, but his grin dimmed slightly, if only in his eyes. "You, uh, mentioned finding out about me, and Sammy, and…When did Dad tell you he had a family?"
"I shouldn't have brought that up. In case you haven't noticed, I kind of have a habit of talking too much - I think your father came home with me the first time just to shut me up…" She trailed off, blushing. "See what I mean?"
After a moment's beat, Kate reached across the coffee table, touching his clasped hands. Dean tried not to pull away, and failed, automatically sitting up straighter to get out of her reach. She pulled her arm back as if she didn't notice, a small, sad smile still on her face.
"I was pissed." He blinked at her statement, and she waved it off. "At your dad." Dean nodded along with that clarification, hoping to make light of it, but she cut him off. "He didn't tell me he already had two sons. Not until the second time he met with Adam."
Dean gave her a smile so crooked that it hurt. Or, at least, something hurt. He hoped it didn't show in his eyes. "Not something you advertise," he said, and his mouth tasted sour. "I'm sure he had his reasons."
In the back of his mind, he heard Sam of yesteryear, his voice high and pitched like Adam's hollow echo on the phone, 'You're always taking up for him, even when he's hurting you, too. Why do you do that, Dean? Why are you always defending Dad?' That hadn't really sounded like the truth until now. And he still didn't have an answer for Sam, other than the obvious: he's our dad.
Kate frowned. "Dean, he didn't do it because -"
Her voice cut off at the sound of the front door opening. A figure shot in, a tad too fast, and then slowed to a stop at the entry of the living room, a backpack dropping to the floor at his feet. The boy took a breath, playing it cool with a nod of his head that wasn't all that convincing.
"Hey, Mom. Sorry I'm home late."
Dean raised a brow, not needing to look at his watch to know the kid was actually early.
Adam, wearing a twitchy grin that refused to be bitten down, swallowed nervously when he noticed Dean. His blue eyes widened. "And, uh, hi, you must be Dean."
"I must be," Dean replied, mimicking the boy subconsciously.
It was the first time Dean was able to get a decent look at the kid. Even between a layer of coat and hoodie, he was skinny, a bit on the small side for his age, but, from his string-bean limbs and narrow shoulders, Dean would put money on the kid having gained a couple inches in height over the past few months alone. His hair was a lighter shade than Dean's, ashy blond at the tips where it spiked out above his brow. His teeth were too white and too big for his head, and every one of them seemed to show, even though he was trying not to smile.
Most of all, he looked like a normal kid; Dean could have passed him on the street and had no clue that they shared blood. He could have went his whole life without knowing…That thought sent the comment on the tip of his tongue back down his throat. He felt a tap on his shoulder and almost grabbed Kate's wrist before he realized she was standing beside him.
"You boys have a lot to talk about." She stepped past him, giving Adam a similar pat and an extra squeeze as she walked past. "Dinner in twenty," echoed back from the next room.
Adam shifted his weight, using the move to kick his bag out of the main path. "So…"
"So," Dean returned and shook off the moment of silence. "Finish that book report?"
The tenseness left Adam's shoulders. "Yup. Mrs. Hardin liked it." He took a few more steps into the room, his eyes flickering down to Dean's worn biker boots and back up to his face. "You look like Dad," he said, his voice a bit quieter.
Dean flinched but hid it with a quick glance down at the coffee table. "I do?"
"Just not as old," Adam clarified. "I mean, you look more like his son than I - " His brow wrinkled slightly, but he shrugged off whatever he was about to say. "You look like how I pictured you."
Dean was thrown by the comment. Okay, not the greeting I expected…What the hell kind of greeting was I expecting again? And he had no clue how to reply to that, because he remembered being small and his dad twisting his wedding band, muttering that Dean looked so much like Mary.
"So you pictured having an incredibly handsome older brother?" Dean answered and almost choked on the words. He hadn't expected to use that term, 'brother', quite so soon. The kid didn't seem to notice.
Adam rolled his eyes, but his smile widened. "Yeah, because I have so many girls after me, I need a diversion."
"Well played," Dean admitted, smirking.
"Do you like video games? I have a PS2."
Dean shrugged, a weight leaving his chest with the change of topic. "Not really had the chance to play any."
"Seriously?" Adam shook his head. "I knew you were old, but not that old."
"Bite me."
Adam snorted, picking up his bag again. "Should be pretty easy to kick your butt in Tekken," he mused, headed toward the staircase. He glanced back over his shoulder. "You coming?" He frowned. "I mean, you don't have to, if you want to stay down here and talk about…stuff. We could do that instead."
Dean quickly stood, moving to follow. He'd take a half-hour of some game over chick-flick moments any day. "I don't know what the hell a 'Tekken' is, but prepare to be schooled, kid."
PART 2