Contact 17
Title: Contact 17/36
Author: Deanish
Rating: PG13
Length: 900 / 60,700 words
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam/Jess (but I'd still say it's more gen than het)
Summary: A 'what might have been.' What if the demon had stayed in hibernation for just a little longer?
Chapter 17
Dean flipped his phone shut and sank into a nearby chair.
Then jumped back up.
Then sank back down.
Shit, shit, shit.
What … just what?
What was he going to do? What was going on? What was he going to tell Sam? What was Sam going to tell Jessica? What was going on?
And what was he going to do? Had he mentioned that one yet?
Whatever it was, he decided suddenly, shooting back to his feet, it had to be done now. Saginaw was at least a two-day drive. They needed to get going now.
But he just as quickly sat back down. He had to figure out what he was going to say to Sam first.
He just had to do it fast.
OK. Focus on the positive - it’s probably not a brain tumor. That’s good. That’s really good. Now he just had to convince Sam that the alternative was a positive thing.
Right.
‘Screw it,’ Dean thought. ‘I’ll just wing it.’
And if he didn’t exactly jump up this time, at least he also didn’t sit back down.
He did, however, pause just inside Sam’s door. Sam was back from his tests, and his eyes were closed. But he obviously wasn’t asleep. He was running a hand lazily through Jessica’s hair, and Jessica obviously was asleep. One of her hands was clasping the hand that Sam wasn’t stroking her hair with. The other was folded beneath her head, cushioning it where it lay across Sam’s lap. Her face was turned toward the door, and her mouth was slightly open.
It was an … intimate … scene - one that Dean hated to interrupt. Especially with the news that he had.
‘Not a brain tumor. Not a brain tumor,” he reminded himself. Out loud he whispered, “Sam.”
Sam opened his eyes immediately and shot Dean a twisted-up, cynical sort of smile. But Dean had to work to return even that.
He sighed heavily and stepped forward. He hesitated, then decided to take the most direct route.
“Sam, we’ve got to go.”
Sam’s face briefly registered surprise - his mouth fell open in an unspoken, ‘Oh.’ But then he looked down, and then he looked back up, it was gone.
“I … uh. Sure.”
Huh. That was … unexpectedly easy.
“Sure?”
“Yeah. I mean … I understand. You’ve … got to go. Go save someone, right?”
Oh crap.
“Dude. Geez. No. Get your ears cleaned out. Do you really think I’d just leave you here? No, man - I said we’ve got to go. You and me. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Other people might have said Sam looked at him like he’d grown a second head. But Dean had seen Sam’s reaction to something growing a second head, and he took that better than this.
“Huh?”
“We’ve got to go. Now. Come on. We’re meeting Dad in Saginaw. He’s already on his way there.”
The look on Sam’s face could only be described as astonished.
“Uh, Dean - I know I said I’d go hunting with you every now and then, but this really isn’t a good time.”
If Dean had the time, he would have been offended. First Sam thought he was just going to abandon him in the hospital and now he was accusing Dean of wanting to drag him off hunting with a brain tumor? Maybe Sam did have a neurological problem.
Still, he’d probably rather believe that than the truth, Dean reminded himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and gather his courage.
“Sam, we’ve got to get you out of here,” he said. “What … happened. It wasn’t a brain tumor. It wasn’t a hallucination.”
Now the astonishment hardened into apprehension.
“Did you talk to the doctor?” he said, clearly wondering what could be so bad that Dean wouldn’t want him to undergo treatment.
“No - I talked to Dad.”
Sam shook his head as though trying to jar loose the part that would make this conversation make sense.
“Dean - wha-?”
“The guy with the window and the head,” Dean interrupted. “It, uh, it actually happened.”
Pause.
“Come again?”
Dean grimaced, but went on.
“You didn’t hallucinate it. You … I don’t know what you’d call it. But it’s not a hallucination if it’s real.”
“Real?” Sam’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Yeah,” Dean said, hating to confirm. Sam looked away to stare blankly at a far wall.
“How … how do you know?”
“Dad. He’s, uh, he was already on his way there when I called. Said he’d heard about a spirit that was decapitating people with windows. And … I mean, how could that be a coincidence?”
“But … why? Why would I … see … that?”
“I don’t know, Sam. But there’s got to be some reason. That’s why we’ve got to get to Saginaw.”
Sam shifted his gaze back to Dean, but it was no less blank. He just nodded absently.
“Hey,” Dean said, shrugging, “it’s better than a brain tumor.”
Sam kept nodding, but his gaze drifted away again. Dean wanted to give him a minute to try and process it - but that’d take weeks and months. And he didn’t even have minutes.
“Sam,” he said, gently. “We’ve got to go. It’s a long drive to Michigan, and it’s probably best if we’re long gone when that doctor comes back with your test results.”
Sam was nodding again, but it had taken on a slightly less dazed quality. He started to push himself up, then stopped and looked down, drawing both their attentions to his lapful of blonde hair.
That snapped him out of his daze.
Chapter 18
Author: Deanish
Rating: PG13
Length: 900 / 60,700 words
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam/Jess (but I'd still say it's more gen than het)
Summary: A 'what might have been.' What if the demon had stayed in hibernation for just a little longer?
Chapter 17
Dean flipped his phone shut and sank into a nearby chair.
Then jumped back up.
Then sank back down.
Shit, shit, shit.
What … just what?
What was he going to do? What was going on? What was he going to tell Sam? What was Sam going to tell Jessica? What was going on?
And what was he going to do? Had he mentioned that one yet?
Whatever it was, he decided suddenly, shooting back to his feet, it had to be done now. Saginaw was at least a two-day drive. They needed to get going now.
But he just as quickly sat back down. He had to figure out what he was going to say to Sam first.
He just had to do it fast.
OK. Focus on the positive - it’s probably not a brain tumor. That’s good. That’s really good. Now he just had to convince Sam that the alternative was a positive thing.
Right.
‘Screw it,’ Dean thought. ‘I’ll just wing it.’
And if he didn’t exactly jump up this time, at least he also didn’t sit back down.
He did, however, pause just inside Sam’s door. Sam was back from his tests, and his eyes were closed. But he obviously wasn’t asleep. He was running a hand lazily through Jessica’s hair, and Jessica obviously was asleep. One of her hands was clasping the hand that Sam wasn’t stroking her hair with. The other was folded beneath her head, cushioning it where it lay across Sam’s lap. Her face was turned toward the door, and her mouth was slightly open.
It was an … intimate … scene - one that Dean hated to interrupt. Especially with the news that he had.
‘Not a brain tumor. Not a brain tumor,” he reminded himself. Out loud he whispered, “Sam.”
Sam opened his eyes immediately and shot Dean a twisted-up, cynical sort of smile. But Dean had to work to return even that.
He sighed heavily and stepped forward. He hesitated, then decided to take the most direct route.
“Sam, we’ve got to go.”
Sam’s face briefly registered surprise - his mouth fell open in an unspoken, ‘Oh.’ But then he looked down, and then he looked back up, it was gone.
“I … uh. Sure.”
Huh. That was … unexpectedly easy.
“Sure?”
“Yeah. I mean … I understand. You’ve … got to go. Go save someone, right?”
Oh crap.
“Dude. Geez. No. Get your ears cleaned out. Do you really think I’d just leave you here? No, man - I said we’ve got to go. You and me. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Other people might have said Sam looked at him like he’d grown a second head. But Dean had seen Sam’s reaction to something growing a second head, and he took that better than this.
“Huh?”
“We’ve got to go. Now. Come on. We’re meeting Dad in Saginaw. He’s already on his way there.”
The look on Sam’s face could only be described as astonished.
“Uh, Dean - I know I said I’d go hunting with you every now and then, but this really isn’t a good time.”
If Dean had the time, he would have been offended. First Sam thought he was just going to abandon him in the hospital and now he was accusing Dean of wanting to drag him off hunting with a brain tumor? Maybe Sam did have a neurological problem.
Still, he’d probably rather believe that than the truth, Dean reminded himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and gather his courage.
“Sam, we’ve got to get you out of here,” he said. “What … happened. It wasn’t a brain tumor. It wasn’t a hallucination.”
Now the astonishment hardened into apprehension.
“Did you talk to the doctor?” he said, clearly wondering what could be so bad that Dean wouldn’t want him to undergo treatment.
“No - I talked to Dad.”
Sam shook his head as though trying to jar loose the part that would make this conversation make sense.
“Dean - wha-?”
“The guy with the window and the head,” Dean interrupted. “It, uh, it actually happened.”
Pause.
“Come again?”
Dean grimaced, but went on.
“You didn’t hallucinate it. You … I don’t know what you’d call it. But it’s not a hallucination if it’s real.”
“Real?” Sam’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Yeah,” Dean said, hating to confirm. Sam looked away to stare blankly at a far wall.
“How … how do you know?”
“Dad. He’s, uh, he was already on his way there when I called. Said he’d heard about a spirit that was decapitating people with windows. And … I mean, how could that be a coincidence?”
“But … why? Why would I … see … that?”
“I don’t know, Sam. But there’s got to be some reason. That’s why we’ve got to get to Saginaw.”
Sam shifted his gaze back to Dean, but it was no less blank. He just nodded absently.
“Hey,” Dean said, shrugging, “it’s better than a brain tumor.”
Sam kept nodding, but his gaze drifted away again. Dean wanted to give him a minute to try and process it - but that’d take weeks and months. And he didn’t even have minutes.
“Sam,” he said, gently. “We’ve got to go. It’s a long drive to Michigan, and it’s probably best if we’re long gone when that doctor comes back with your test results.”
Sam was nodding again, but it had taken on a slightly less dazed quality. He started to push himself up, then stopped and looked down, drawing both their attentions to his lapful of blonde hair.
That snapped him out of his daze.
Chapter 18