FIC: For Reasons Unknown
This is my newest plot baby. It’s a crossover ‘verse. The Winchesters go to Smallville. I’m hoping for a perfect blend of plot and crack here. Some fics will be crack but I suggest reading them all in order since I’m hoping that crack or not they’re all important and worth reading.
For Reasons Unknown
Parings: None
Warnings: Swearing, incestuous comments (not true wincest)
Words: 4,062
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Smallville Kansas, meet the Winchesters
Sam sits at the diner table alone, waiting, and filling out his own application forms and transfer papers again.
“I can’t believe I have to switch schools, again,” he complains as he’s joined by his brother, who sits down across from him.
“Come on, Sammy--“
“Sam!”
“--you know how this job works. We were done there, we need to move on somewhere else,” Dean lays it all out for him, again.
“There must be something there we haven’t looked into,” he pleas.
“We’ve looked into everything in the county! You’re just pissed because you were actually getting somewhere with that blonde.” Dean’s grinning at him like a fool. Sam glares but a blush creeps into his cheeks, so there’s not much - if any - threat in it.
“Jerk,” Sam mutters, still glaring.
“Bitch,” Dean counters, smiling. He’s quite proud of himself, until Sam is smiling and looking over Dean’s shoulder. Dean turns around to see his Dad frowning down at him.
“Dean, don’t swear at your brother. You’re supposed to be some sort of role model for the kid,” John scolds, sliding into the booth beside Sam.
“Yessir,” Dean mumbles. Sam snickers and grins at him. “So, Kansas, Dad? What’re we after?” Dean asks, changing the subject.
“Not sure yet son,” he admits. He throws the newspaper he’d been holding down on the table. “Lot of weird shit’s been going on in this one town and it all seems to be revolving around one kid in particular. Clark Kent.”
“Kansas. Great. I’m going to Hillbilly High,” Sam grumbles.
“Don’t turn hick on me Sammy,” Dean warns, “Brother-lovin’ ain’t my cup o’ tea.”
Sam glares. “Ha ha ha, Dean. Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” The words slide off Sam’s tongue like honey, washing the smile from Dean’s lips and replacing it with a sneer.
“You want me Sam. One day you’ll admit it.”
“Boys! Jesus fuck! Stop talking like that!” John shouts. The expression on his face is one neither of the boys recognizes. They both frown, trying to figure out what’s wrong, and exchanging curious, worried glances. It clicks. They look away from their Dad’s exposed and raw grief.
“Sorry Sir,” they apologize one after the other. Kansas. They’re going back to Kansas. It’ll be the first time in 16 years. It’s not like they’re going to Lawrence, but it’s close enough. Anywhere in Kansas is close enough, even if it’s Smallville and about as far from Lawrence as you can get in the same state.
Their food arrives and they dig in. Dean’s the one to break the silence, Sam’s too stubborn and John’s too lost in his thoughts (or fighting them back). “So, what’s so freaky deaky about this Clark Kent guy again?” he ventures.
“Not sure yet,” John says, not looking up from his meal. “Some really weird and unexplainable shit has been going on around Smallville for a few years now. I’ve been pulling articles and digging around a bit. I’ve never seen anything like some of this stuff.” John looks up into Dean’s eyes here. He turns to Sam when he adds, “We’ll be there for a while. I think it’ll take us a long time to solve this one.”
Sam smiles slowly, lightly. Dean watches his brother’s face twist from sorrow over his deceased mother, to pleasant relief that he might have a chance to graduate somewhere he knows. Somewhere where he has friends.
“How long is a long time?” Dean asks, not wanting Sam’s hopes to get too high.
John’s attention is back on his food. He shrugs. “Don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see how screwed up everything is when we get there. Right now I’m thinking…” He takes a bite of his food while he considers how much time it’ll take them to kill everything in need of killing. “4 months?”
Sam’s face falls in an instant. Dean watches him clench and unclench his jaw a few times and take deep calming breaths. John doesn’t pick up on any of these things. Dean sighs a ragged breath. He really wishes their Dad wouldn’t set Sam up just to rip the carpet out from under him.
“It could take longer then that though, right?” Sam nearly whispers. John doesn’t look up.
“It could. I’m thinking right now that this Kent guy is some sort of… fuck I don’t even know.” He looks up here, meeting both of his sons’ gazes in turn. “There’s something going on in this town. Depending on how well covered up this shit is, it could take upwards of… 6 months?”
Sam nods and goes back to his food. Dean watches Sam’s face contort to bottle up the rage and the hurt bubbling underneath the surface.
“I’m gonna go pay boys. Finish up and meet me at the car.” John informs them as he gets up and walks to the cash register and the pretty young women manning it.
Dean leans forward across the table a bit. “You know how careful Dad is. He’s gonna make sure everything that he can possibly kill is dead before we ever get out of Kansas.”
Sam looks up at his brother from under the bangs he’s managed to keep even with John nagging him and giving him hell over them. He smiles a genuine smile, showing off his perfect teeth. Dean’s lips twitch up of their own accord, mimicking Sam’s. “Yeah, I know Dean. Thanks.” He’s still smiling as he packs up his trusty laptop and grabs one last French fry. Dean follows him out of the diner where John is leaning against the sleek black body of the ’67 Chevy Impala.
John claps his hands together when he sees his boys approaching. “Alright! Let’s hit the road. You’ve,” he points at Sam, “got an interview with the principal tomorrow morning and we’ve got hours ahead of us still.” He dives into the car and starts the engine.
Dean throws Sam a half smile and swings into the passenger seat. John’s grinning like an idiot. “Don’t you just love that sound, son?! Fuck, if this car was a woman I’d-”
“Dad!” Sam yells from the backseat.
John laughs and pulls away.
==================
It’s late when they pass the township line into Smallville, Kansas. John’s edging the car to a rumbling stop in front of a small house near the centre of the nearly non-existent downtown area. Dean, just on the outskirts of sleep, groans and stirs. “Dad, can we question people tomorrow? Sam’s really tired and needs his sleep.”
John looks into the back seat then back at his eldest, whose eyes are closed. “Dean,” he says lightly, “Sam’s been sleeping for miles. And we’re not here to question anyone. I rented us a little place for the couple months we’ll be here.”
Dean frowns and his eyes snap open. “Very funny, Dad. Can we please go to the motel now?”
John’s smile drops. His face morphs in the darkness of the night to pain and guilt. He’s just counting his lucky stars that it’s so dark out because there are all sorts of feelings and thoughts racing across his open eyes that he knows his perceptive son would pick up on easily.
He gets out of the car and opens the trunk. Dean, eyes drooping half closed, watches with a frown. He’s still skeptical but gets out and opens the back door to the car. John’s pulling all their things out of the trunk and putting what he can’t carry on the ground. He doesn’t look back to check on his boys, just heads up to the door and unlocks it, proving he’s legit here.
Dean, being very careful to not pull Sam completely from his sleep, wraps an arm around Sam’s back and gently hauls him out of the vehicle. Sam groans and grunts at him in protest but stands on shaky legs. “Dean?” Sam asks groggily.
“Yeah, Sammy. It’s me. I’m gonna help you to bed now. Then you can sleep, ok?”
“Mmmmm. Hmmm,” Sam lets out with a breath. Dean throws one of Sam’s arms over his shoulder and drags the semi-conscience kid into the quant house. John points him to where their room is (yes, they’re sharing a room) and Dean careful lays Sam out on one of the beds. Sam’s light snores can be heard before Dean’s pulled off his boots and brought the blanket up to his chin.
He goes back out to bring in the rest of their stuff. He locks and salts all the windows and doors he finds before throwing a tattered blanket over the sleeping form of his Dad on the nasty couch and heading back into his bedroom. The last thing he does before turning off the light and relaxing a bit into the mattress (he never completely relaxes) is looking over at Sam, making sure his brother is alright still.
==================
“SAM!” Dean yells from the kitchen. “Get your lazy ass out of bed before I fucking kick it out of there!”
“Dean, watch your mother fucking language!”
“Sorry Sir,” Dean says, voice low and respectful. He puts one plate of eggs and toast down in front of his Dad, the other in front of the place he’s expecting Sam to sit. Growling, he heads to the bedroom to force Sam’s sleep deprived teenage body out of bed.
When he comes back into the kitchen he’s grinning and Sam is screaming at him from the bathroom. “I freakin hate you, Dean!”
“Language! Dean, you’re such a horrible influence on that kid. Next time I hear you swear in front of him, you’re cleaning the whole fucking house from top to bottom… twice.”
“Yessir,” Dean says, smile only slightly dimmed. He sits down with his own breakfast, cereal, and smiles to himself until Sam comes out of the bathroom, then he grins again. “Hey, Sammy.”
Sam glares hard at his brother. “You’re an asshole, Dean. You know that?”
“Yup.”
“What’d you do know, Dean?” John interrogates, eyes narrowed. Dean smiles and shrugs.
“Poured icy water down his back,” Dean states simply. “Nothin special.”
John shakes his head and goes back to the newspaper he’s been flipping through. Sam’s still glaring but also scarfing down the food Dean made for him.
“When do I need to be at this school?” Sam asks, directed at whoever knows the answer.
“9 o’clock on the dot,” Dean answers, “I’ll drop you off on my way into the city.”
John looks up at this. “You’re going into Metropolis? Why, what for?”
“Scope out some seedy looking pool halls and maybe ask around a bit about that Clark Kent kid,” Dean offers up the truth, no point hiding it even though he knows his Dad would never have been the wiser.
“You’re still underage Dean, I’ll do that. You stick around town and just get a lay of the land today.” John’s word is final so Dean just reclines back into his chair and pouts.
John stares at Dean for a few seconds before growling, “You hear me boy?”
“Yessir,” Dean answers, age past his years audible in his voice despite the fact that the words are so submissive.
“Good. Get your stuff Sam.” John stands, leaving his dishes on the table, and heads out to the car. Sam thanks Dean for the breakfast and follows obediently out the door in his Dad’s overbearing shadow.
=========
He takes a deep breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth. He closes his eyes and takes another one. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Then another. In through his nose, out through his mouth.
The first bell of the morning rings and he’s sitting in the front office, waiting to be called in to his meeting with the principal.
In through his nose, out through his mouth.
“Mr. Winchester?” His eyes snap open and he looks up to the receptionist with a dazzling smile. “You can go in now.”
He stands up and takes one last deep breath. The short, balding man behind the desk of the room he enters doesn’t look up from his papers even as Sam is standing in front of the desk, door closed behind him.
“Take a seat, Mr. Winchester,” the nasal voice of his new principal orders him. He still doesn’t look up. “I see from your file that you’ve moved around quite a lot in the last… decade.” Here he meets Sam’s eyes. The glare that Sam is faced with makes him swallow hard.
“I know that I haven’t exactly-” Sam starts to explain before he’s cut off abruptly.
“Your grades,” Principal Schneider continues, Sam breaths a small sigh of relief because he knows that this area of his records is very impressive, “are impressive I guess with the amount of moving you’ve done. But, if you’re going to attend my school, you’re going to stay out of trouble and join some extra-curricular activities around here.”
“Yes Sir,” Sam replies on instinct. Principal Schneider looks mildly pleased with the level of respect shown in a kid he assumes will be a delinquent. He narrows his eyes curiously at the young man across from him.
“Well then. I’ll be keeping tabs on you for a while, making sure that you’re grades are as high as shown on your transcripts, and making sure that you’re doing school stuff out side of school. Joining clubs or sports or things like that.” He shuffles some papers together then signs the bottom of the top page. He looks up to meet Sam’s anxious eyes. “Welcome to Smallville High, Sam Winchester.”
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Relief is about the only feeling in Sam as he walks down the empty hallways of the school. He got in, which was never a huge issue but always a present one. Classes are in session and he’s not attending his classes today so he heads out to the front parking lot where John had dropped him off earlier. He turns the last corner that will bring him to the foyer leading outside and runs right into a hard yet soft and warm something.
“Sorry!” he says instinctively. Stumbling backwards a step after the impact he gets his bearings and looks at whom he ran into. “Dean?” Sam looks into the face of his brother. “What the hell are you doing here?” He questions then stops and frowns. “Your hair looks really blonde man. You die it? Cause you know Dad’ll kill you.”
“Do I know you?” the older, slightly shorter man asks Sam. Sam’s mouth falls open a fraction.
“Dean?” now he’s really confused. This guy looks like his brother. He’s fucking identical, except maybe the lines of his face are a little softer then normal. Not as aged from hardships.
The other man looks at him, humour and confusion both playing in his eyes. “Actually no,” he smiles. He holds out his hand for Sam to shake. “The names Jason. Jason Teague.” The smile on his face widens as he introduces himself.
Sam’s eyes are wide. He doesn’t take the hand, instead he backs away a couple steps. “Dean, don’t fuck with me.” He snaps, scared and seriously unsettled.
Jason looks baffled and a little hurt. He drops his hand into his pocket. “My name’s not Dean.” There’s worry and lots of bewilderment in his gaze. “Are you ok? I think I need to call you a doctor.” He grabs his cell phone out of his pocket and flips it open. He looks down and dials but when he looks back up the kid he was talking to is no where to be seen. He frowns and looks around then hangs up the phone.
Jason puts his phone away then turns and looks out towards the front doors where he thinks the kid bolted for. Sure enough the door is just nearly closed again after being thrown open. Worried, and more then a little interested by the stunning kid that had nearly ran him over, he walks over to the doors and looks out. He can’t see any trace of the mysterious disappearing teen.
“Jason?” He spins around to see a dark slender woman approaching him.
“Lana, what’re you doing out of class?” he asked, small smile tugging at his lips.
“I have a spare this block, remember? I’m just going back out to my car for my geology book.” She’s smiling up at him with a small crooked smirk and a smaller frown. “What are you doing out here? I thought you had all sorts of coach stuff to deal with?”
“Yeah, I should really get back to that,” he walks past her in a couple bouncy steps and then twirls to face her again. He’s smiling wide now. “I’ll see you later!” Then he’s around the corner and walking briskly to his office. Lana’s pretty face slowly fades from his mind’s eye as it’s replaced by the strong jaw and sculpted cheekbones of his possibly psychotic, would-be steamroller.
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“Dean!” Sam yells out, panicking, as he slams the front door to their new place open. “DEAN?!”
“Holy shit Sammy, calm the hell down.” Dean saunters into the front room from the kitchen. “What’s up?”
Sam strides over to his older brother and grabs his shoulder in one hand and his chin in the other. “Christo.” Sam says to Dean, watching for any flinches as Dean just stares at him like he suddenly has no face. “I saw something. Something really, really weird Dean.” He twists Dean’s faces, inspecting it from all sides. Dean lets himself be moved and scrutinized, he’s worried and very confused.
“What are you talking about Sammy?” Dean asks, grabbing Sam’s wrist and forcing him to meet his eyes now. “What did you see?” The hunter in Dean comes out to play. “Was it this Clark Kent guy? Did he hurt you at all?! I’m calling Dad, then I’m going after the mother fucker myself for laying a finger on my brother.” Dean twists away from him and goes for the phone but Sam stops him, grabbing his arm.
“No, it wasn’t Clark Kent. I think it might have been a shape shifter or something. Dean, he looked exactly like you. Other than the blonde hair… and he was taller then you… looked older too… Dean, I’m not sure that it was a shape shifter after all. Aren’t they supposed to be an exact copy?” Sam’s still holding onto Dean’s arm, making sure he doesn’t go for the phone and have this mystery duplicate murdered in cold blood.
Dean sighs and relaxes a fraction in Sam’s strong fingers. “I don’t know Sam! You said it looked like me? Just how like me are we talking? Doppelganger or similar features?”
Sam releases Dean and runs a hand through his hair. “Damn near identical, man.” Dean stares at him for a few minutes, jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically.
“I’m calling Dad,” he announces as he reaches for his cell.
“Don’t!” Sam’s fingers clamp down hard on Dean’s forearm. Dean frowns at Sam and he lets go. “Just wait until he gets home. It’s probably nothing, I’m probably over exaggerating here or something. You’re not possessed and I’m damn sure he’s not a shape shifter or doppelganger. Just calm down. I’ll look into him more at school tomorrow.”
Dean’s shoulders sink as he relaxes. “I don’t know Sammy. I’m not sure I wanna leave you alone in the same building as whatever that thing is.”
“Dean, I’ll be fine.” Sam watches his brother take a deep breath and walk into the kitchen. He follows Dean in then leans against the door frame. Dean goes over to the sink and starts washing the dishes in there. Sam chuckles.
“You’re so domestic and motherly Dean. You gonna bake cookies too?” Dean glares at him.
“Fuck off Sammy.” Sam laughs louder this time, pulling the sound out of his gut. Dean smiles lightly down at the dirty dishes.
=========
Staff File
Name: Teague, Jason
Position: Assistant Coach
Birth date: October 25, 1977
SIN: 698 754 112
Mailing Address: 5421 Peachtree Street, Smallville, Kansas, 11511
Phone number: (316) 777-9156
Employment History:
Quarterback for Central A&M
Emergency contact: Genevieve Teague, mother, (316) 777-7463
Sam perused the confidential file he hacked into until he heard his father’s booming voice fill the entire house, even his bedroom where he’d holed himself up with his laptop.
“Boys! I’m home!” were John’s words as he’d loudly entered the house. Sam jumped, snapped his laptop shut and rushed out of the room. Dean was sharpening their knives as he came in. Sam swallowed hard, nervous.
“Hey, Dad…” Dean started, flashing a glance at Sam before standing up and approaching his father. Sam gave him a scared and meaningful look to stop, also taking a couple steps forward.
“Dean, can I talk to you a sec?” he asked pointedly. Dean gave him a curious look. Sam’s eyes flashed to John then back to Dean, trying to get his point across to his brother.
Dean raised his eye brows insistently, as if saying, what Sammy? Dad should know.
Sam huffed a bit and shifted towards their bedroom. Emphasizing how badly he wanted to discuss this with Dean before he made any forward movements in the destruction of ‘whatever had hurt his brother’.
Dean sighs, “Fine Sam,” and trudges into the bedroom. John, not realizing a damned thing, sits down to watch TV.
Sam closes the door behind them and turns back to his brother. Dean is looking at him expectantly.
“What was so important that you couldn’t tell me after we killed this evil twin of mine running around?” Dean asks, looking very annoyed.
“First of all,” Sam starts, “you would be the evil twin.” Dean excepts this easily. “And secondly, I don’t think he should be killed, Dean. We don’t know anything about what’s going on. I think you should let me scope things out before you burst in all ‘guns a blazin’.” Dean opens his mouth to say something but Sam holds up his hand. “Don’t tell Dad yet. Please? I don’t want to get kicked out of this town just yet.” Sam pleads with his eyes as much as his words. He watches Dean’s gaze dart back and forth between his eyes. Dean sighs and looks down, giving in to his little brother’s puppy eyes. He shakes his head at himself and Sam smiles.
“If he lays so much as a finger on you I swear to god Sammy, he won’t be able to kill himself but he’ll want to because I’ll torture the hell outta that creepy bastard.” He’s pointing at Sam with menace but Sam is still smiling at him.
They walk out of the room together, Dean leading and Sam bouncing behind him. John looks up at them and asks what’s for dinner. Sam bounds into the kitchen to start supper. Dean collapses at the table. “Torture, Sammy. Painful, painful torture.” He says, trying to wipe the smile off Sam’s face, but it doesn’t work.
“Who did you torture?” John asks, flipping a chair around to straddle it. Sam looks at Dean with wide pleading eyes. Dean meets his gaze and sighs a little.
“Nobody Dad. Just threatening my brother,” he lies.
John nods and looks bored again, as if the idea of his sons torturing each other is an everyday thing. They eat their supper in moderate quiet. The subject of what they did today gets a little touchy but Dean lies well enough to not have John prying at all.
After supper Sam excuses himself, “I’m gonna go… research…yeah.” After finding out the little tidbit of information that Jason used to play for Central A&M, he’d agreed with himself to search for as long as possible to find a picture of Jason somewhere on line. He rushes away, Dean glaring at his back and John staring with one eyebrow raised.
“That boy right there,” John says, flinging his food at Dean while pointing with his fork, “He is going to make one great hunter. Every minute he has he’s on that damn computer researching.” Dean snorts out a laugh and John frowns at him. “What?”
“No, you’re right. He certainly does his… research.” John frowns some more then shrugs and goes back to his supper.
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A/N: First installment in my Smallville/Supernatural Crossover 'Verse!
Chapter 2: Six Foot Town