The Transiency of Love: Part 4 (glee/supernatural)
Title: The Transiency of Love
Author: Koinaka
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel, mentions of other characters as needed.
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: set post season 3, so everything aired, set between season 3 and 4 for Supernatural, so pretty much everything there too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt was trying to get through the summer. Sam was trying to forget. Neither of them expected to fall in love.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 3200 words for this part.
Written for this prompt @ here.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3
The Transiency of Love
By Koinaka
Please let me forget
all those sweet smiles
all of the passion
all of the heat, the peace, the pain
all those blue skies
where your words were my freedom
-Don't, Jewel
Dean laughed. "No really? You guys hunting together or something?"
Bobby gave him a pointed look and nodded towards a picture of Kurt and Sam kissing. Dean stared at the picture and then back at him, his mouth agape. "No way, Bobby. Sammy's not..." he trailed off, his eyes flitting over to where Kurt was standing, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched.
"Not what? Not a fag?" Kurt asked, his voice cold, his lips curled into a sneer.
No one said anything for several seconds until Bobby cleared his throat. "You said Sam left this morning. He say why?"
Kurt shook his head, turning his attention to the older man. He had no time to waste on a homophobe who for all he knew was a deranged psycho-the fact that he claimed to be Sam's dead brother wasn't exactly the sanest thing around. "No. We had plans to go this barbecue that my parents were hosting today, so I slept there last night. He called me this morning, frantic, asking me to come over."
Dean interrupted him. "You said he was frantic. What was he saying?"
There was a pause while Kurt hesitated. Not only did he not know these men but they had broken into his-well, Sam's-apartment. He shouldn't tell them anything. Only…Sam had said that he should call the Bobby guy, so maybe he should tell them.
"He wasn't making any sense," he said at last. "It sounded like maybe he had been crying, and he just kept saying that he was sorry, and that he if he had known, he would have been more careful. Then, he said that I had to come over so that he could make sure that I was safe, so that he could protect me-not that I need it because I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself which is exactly what I told him-but he was insistent that I should come over, so I did. I got out of bed, and I came straight here."
He took a deep breath. "This is where it gets a little crazy. When I get here, there was all of this weird stuff lying around." He pointed to the guns, the bags of rock salt, and the holy water. "He made me promise to not leave the apartment until he got back, and then, once I'd agreed, he started telling me what to do with all of that. How I needed to make sure there was salt in front of the doors-which I must say just worked wonders on keeping the two of you out-how to load the guns, that if the guns didn't stop them-and he never said who-that I should use this knife. Then he told me that if he wasn't back in two days that I should call Bobby Singer."
The two men shared a significant look.
Dean looked decidedly unhappy, his mouth pulled into a frown. "And you didn't think to ask him what was going on, why he was leavin' in such a hurry?"
Kurt bristled and shot Dean a dark glare. "Of course I did, but he wouldn't say. He only said that if I did what he asked, he would explain everything when he got home-that he would tell me all of the things he'd been keeping from me.
"Such as?" Bobby asked, his curiosity seemingly getting the better of him.
Kurt shrugged. "Just about his family and his past. Things he had done."
"Huh. Well, that's something. You two must not have been very close, then, if he didn't even tell you about his family," Dean commented.
"Yes, well, I could say the same about you. Where've you been all this time-if you're such good friends? When I met Sam he was a complete mess-he still is-drifting around the country on some extended road trip. No home, no family, nothing. Maybe he hasn't told me much about his family, but from what little he has told me that's probably because there isn't much to tell."
Dean made an agitated noise like an angry cat and reared forward. Bobby put a hand on his shoulder in warning. "You have no idea the things I've done for that kid. No idea."
They stared at one another for some time before Kurt finally sighed, fingering the pendant he was wearing. "I'm sorry. You're right. You'll have to excuse me-it's been a long day."
Dean wasn't looking at him, though, not directly. His eyes were glued on the pendant. "Where did you get that?"
"Hmm?" Kurt asked distractedly. "Oh, this? Sam gave it to me right before he left. He never takes it off usually. Not even during..." he paused, flushing hotly. "Just…never."
Dean sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "Well, wherever he is, we know he's not alone, so that's something. He got any friends around here?"
"Not really," Kurt admitted. "He's a pretty private person, you know. He spends time with my step-brother, Finn, and my dad, and he's made a few friends at the garage, but any of those people would have had the same plans as we did. Small town and all that," he paused and as his mind caught up to the first thing Dean had said his eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think that he wasn't alone?"
This time it was Bobby who answered. "The Impala's still outside in the parking lot. That's why we were so sure he was here-"
Kurt interrupted him. "Wait-what? But he left. Why wouldn't he have taken the Impala? He loves that car."
"Well, he did. You wouldn't, by any chance, have a copy of his keys, would you?"
"I do-"
"Great," Dean said, cutting him off. "Hand 'em over. Might have left a clue about where he was heading in it."
"No way," Kurt said, shaking his head. That was it-the last straw. "No way am I giving you the keys to his car."
"That's fine," Bobby said, calmly, giving Dean, whose mouth was already forming what Kurt was certain was a rebuttal, a hard look before turning back to Kurt. "How about we all go down to the car and take a look? That way you won't be giving anyone the keys, and we'll still get to see inside."
Kurt chewed on his bottom lip. It sounded like a reasonable compromise, but he would be breaking a promise to Sam if he went outside.
"Look," Dean started when he saw the uncertainty that was written all over Kurt's face. "I know that I've been a total douche to you, and you have every reason not to trust me, but I love Sammy, and there is nothing that I would not do for him-including keeping you safe. He must care about you a lot if he gave you that." He pointed to the pendant that Kurt was still touching.
Finally, Kurt nodded. He grabbed his keys off the counter and toed on his shoes. Together-Dean first followed by Kurt and then by Bobby-walked to where the Impala was parked beside the Navigator in the parking lot. If Kurt was being honest, he would have to say that maybe marching in formation was a little too much because he didn't really believe anything was going to happen.
Dean's face lit up when he saw the Impala. "Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?" he asked, sliding his hand across the hood as they walked by it. "She looks good. Real good. Guess Sammy's been taking care of her."
Kurt thought his reaction to the car was a little odd, but he didn't comment on it. He cleared his throat. "He has," he said. "Well, I have, mostly, only because he knows how much I enjoy it."
Dean let out a chortle. "You? Taking care of my baby?"
Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "As a matter of fact, yes, and she's not yours. It-the car-belongs to Sam. If it weren't for me, who knows where this car would be now? Sam didn't even know how to check the oil or anything. He's lucky he brought it into the garage when he did. It was nearly out of both oil and transmission fluid."
Another uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Once again, Bobby was the one to break it. "Guess we should take a look. See what we can find."
Kurt gave a jerky nod and unlocked the driver's side door. "I'm not sure what you're expecting to find. The inside's immaculate."
"Not the inside we need to see," Dean grunted, bending over and popping the trunk open.
"Nothing there either," Kurt said, following behind him. His eyes widened when he saw Dean pull the bottom of the trunk up, reveling what appeared to be an arsenal.
"Oh my God," he breathed. He had never seen so many guns in his entire life.
Dean rummaged through the trunk, making comments every so often to Bobby while Kurt stared on in shock.
Why did Sam have all of these guns? Was he some sort of arms dealer? A criminal? Was that why he had just appeared in town one day with no rhyme or reason?
He moved closer to the open trunk when something caught his eye. A box with a picture of Sam in it, or that's what he thought at first. One closer inspection, it was an ID of some sort.
It was a Washington State driver's license with a name that definitely wasn't Sam Winchester on it.
And it wasn't the only one there. The entire box was full of different ID's and badges-FBI, police, you name it, and it was there.
"Hey, you okay?" Bobby asked from behind him.
Startled, the box slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, scattering the ID's everywhere.
"Who are you people?" He asked in a shaky voice, but he didn't wait around for an answer. He jogged backed over to the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. He was able to close and lock the door before the two men caught up to him.
He ignored their knocks on the door and headed to the bedroom. A sick feeling swept over him as he looked over all of the pictures of the two of them. Sam-if that was even his real name, and there was a large possibility that it wasn't-hadn't exactly lied to him although was omission of the truth the same as lying? Kurt wasn't sure. He had known that Sam was keeping things from him, had known that there were things that Sam wouldn't tell him, and he had continued the relationship anyway, but never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought that Sam would be keeping something like this from him.
Wondering what else Sam might be keeping from him-under his very nose-Kurt went through each drawer on their dresser. In the last drawer he found a small box. With a very large sense of trepidation, he opened it. It was full of mementos from their time together. The receipt from their first dinner that he had used to write his cell number on, a strip of pictures they had taken on Saturday afternoon at the mall, random post-it notes that Kurt often left around the apartment for him to find, the ticket from the baseball game they'd attended with his father, pictures of Kurt-most of which were just copies from the ones around the apartment but there were two pictures that Sam must have taken at the same time as he'd taken the close up-a series of postcards all sent to Sam at Stanford, and on the very bottom there was a worn picture of a much younger Sam and Dean. His hands trembling, he turned the picture over. The caption was short but said everything Kurt needed to know:
Sammy-thought you might want this; just in case you forgot what a good-lookin' SOB your big brother is while you're out in Cali.
So Dean had been telling the truth; he was Sam's brother. After staring at the photo for a minute, Kurt put everything back in the box and put it back where he'd found it. He was about to open the last drawer when Sam's phone began to beep with a message. He didn't recognize the number, but he opened it anyway, hoping that it might be Sam.
It was.
The text was short-only a line that said: I'll be home before you wake up. Love you.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was hitting the callback button and waiting for Sam to answer. After all, he had to be with the phone as the text had come in not even a full two minutes before.
No one answered.
Kurt looked around the room. In a pique of anger, he swept his hand across their dresser, knocking all of the pictures on the ground, their frames shattering upon impact.
Author: Koinaka
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel, mentions of other characters as needed.
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: set post season 3, so everything aired, set between season 3 and 4 for Supernatural, so pretty much everything there too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt was trying to get through the summer. Sam was trying to forget. Neither of them expected to fall in love.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 3200 words for this part.
Written for this prompt @ here.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3
The Transiency of Love
By Koinaka
Please let me forget
all those sweet smiles
all of the passion
all of the heat, the peace, the pain
all those blue skies
where your words were my freedom
-Don't, Jewel
Dean laughed. "No really? You guys hunting together or something?"
Bobby gave him a pointed look and nodded towards a picture of Kurt and Sam kissing. Dean stared at the picture and then back at him, his mouth agape. "No way, Bobby. Sammy's not..." he trailed off, his eyes flitting over to where Kurt was standing, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched.
"Not what? Not a fag?" Kurt asked, his voice cold, his lips curled into a sneer.
No one said anything for several seconds until Bobby cleared his throat. "You said Sam left this morning. He say why?"
Kurt shook his head, turning his attention to the older man. He had no time to waste on a homophobe who for all he knew was a deranged psycho-the fact that he claimed to be Sam's dead brother wasn't exactly the sanest thing around. "No. We had plans to go this barbecue that my parents were hosting today, so I slept there last night. He called me this morning, frantic, asking me to come over."
Dean interrupted him. "You said he was frantic. What was he saying?"
There was a pause while Kurt hesitated. Not only did he not know these men but they had broken into his-well, Sam's-apartment. He shouldn't tell them anything. Only…Sam had said that he should call the Bobby guy, so maybe he should tell them.
"He wasn't making any sense," he said at last. "It sounded like maybe he had been crying, and he just kept saying that he was sorry, and that he if he had known, he would have been more careful. Then, he said that I had to come over so that he could make sure that I was safe, so that he could protect me-not that I need it because I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself which is exactly what I told him-but he was insistent that I should come over, so I did. I got out of bed, and I came straight here."
He took a deep breath. "This is where it gets a little crazy. When I get here, there was all of this weird stuff lying around." He pointed to the guns, the bags of rock salt, and the holy water. "He made me promise to not leave the apartment until he got back, and then, once I'd agreed, he started telling me what to do with all of that. How I needed to make sure there was salt in front of the doors-which I must say just worked wonders on keeping the two of you out-how to load the guns, that if the guns didn't stop them-and he never said who-that I should use this knife. Then he told me that if he wasn't back in two days that I should call Bobby Singer."
The two men shared a significant look.
Dean looked decidedly unhappy, his mouth pulled into a frown. "And you didn't think to ask him what was going on, why he was leavin' in such a hurry?"
Kurt bristled and shot Dean a dark glare. "Of course I did, but he wouldn't say. He only said that if I did what he asked, he would explain everything when he got home-that he would tell me all of the things he'd been keeping from me.
"Such as?" Bobby asked, his curiosity seemingly getting the better of him.
Kurt shrugged. "Just about his family and his past. Things he had done."
"Huh. Well, that's something. You two must not have been very close, then, if he didn't even tell you about his family," Dean commented.
"Yes, well, I could say the same about you. Where've you been all this time-if you're such good friends? When I met Sam he was a complete mess-he still is-drifting around the country on some extended road trip. No home, no family, nothing. Maybe he hasn't told me much about his family, but from what little he has told me that's probably because there isn't much to tell."
Dean made an agitated noise like an angry cat and reared forward. Bobby put a hand on his shoulder in warning. "You have no idea the things I've done for that kid. No idea."
They stared at one another for some time before Kurt finally sighed, fingering the pendant he was wearing. "I'm sorry. You're right. You'll have to excuse me-it's been a long day."
Dean wasn't looking at him, though, not directly. His eyes were glued on the pendant. "Where did you get that?"
"Hmm?" Kurt asked distractedly. "Oh, this? Sam gave it to me right before he left. He never takes it off usually. Not even during..." he paused, flushing hotly. "Just…never."
Dean sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "Well, wherever he is, we know he's not alone, so that's something. He got any friends around here?"
"Not really," Kurt admitted. "He's a pretty private person, you know. He spends time with my step-brother, Finn, and my dad, and he's made a few friends at the garage, but any of those people would have had the same plans as we did. Small town and all that," he paused and as his mind caught up to the first thing Dean had said his eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think that he wasn't alone?"
This time it was Bobby who answered. "The Impala's still outside in the parking lot. That's why we were so sure he was here-"
Kurt interrupted him. "Wait-what? But he left. Why wouldn't he have taken the Impala? He loves that car."
"Well, he did. You wouldn't, by any chance, have a copy of his keys, would you?"
"I do-"
"Great," Dean said, cutting him off. "Hand 'em over. Might have left a clue about where he was heading in it."
"No way," Kurt said, shaking his head. That was it-the last straw. "No way am I giving you the keys to his car."
"That's fine," Bobby said, calmly, giving Dean, whose mouth was already forming what Kurt was certain was a rebuttal, a hard look before turning back to Kurt. "How about we all go down to the car and take a look? That way you won't be giving anyone the keys, and we'll still get to see inside."
Kurt chewed on his bottom lip. It sounded like a reasonable compromise, but he would be breaking a promise to Sam if he went outside.
"Look," Dean started when he saw the uncertainty that was written all over Kurt's face. "I know that I've been a total douche to you, and you have every reason not to trust me, but I love Sammy, and there is nothing that I would not do for him-including keeping you safe. He must care about you a lot if he gave you that." He pointed to the pendant that Kurt was still touching.
Finally, Kurt nodded. He grabbed his keys off the counter and toed on his shoes. Together-Dean first followed by Kurt and then by Bobby-walked to where the Impala was parked beside the Navigator in the parking lot. If Kurt was being honest, he would have to say that maybe marching in formation was a little too much because he didn't really believe anything was going to happen.
Dean's face lit up when he saw the Impala. "Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?" he asked, sliding his hand across the hood as they walked by it. "She looks good. Real good. Guess Sammy's been taking care of her."
Kurt thought his reaction to the car was a little odd, but he didn't comment on it. He cleared his throat. "He has," he said. "Well, I have, mostly, only because he knows how much I enjoy it."
Dean let out a chortle. "You? Taking care of my baby?"
Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "As a matter of fact, yes, and she's not yours. It-the car-belongs to Sam. If it weren't for me, who knows where this car would be now? Sam didn't even know how to check the oil or anything. He's lucky he brought it into the garage when he did. It was nearly out of both oil and transmission fluid."
Another uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Once again, Bobby was the one to break it. "Guess we should take a look. See what we can find."
Kurt gave a jerky nod and unlocked the driver's side door. "I'm not sure what you're expecting to find. The inside's immaculate."
"Not the inside we need to see," Dean grunted, bending over and popping the trunk open.
"Nothing there either," Kurt said, following behind him. His eyes widened when he saw Dean pull the bottom of the trunk up, reveling what appeared to be an arsenal.
"Oh my God," he breathed. He had never seen so many guns in his entire life.
Dean rummaged through the trunk, making comments every so often to Bobby while Kurt stared on in shock.
Why did Sam have all of these guns? Was he some sort of arms dealer? A criminal? Was that why he had just appeared in town one day with no rhyme or reason?
He moved closer to the open trunk when something caught his eye. A box with a picture of Sam in it, or that's what he thought at first. One closer inspection, it was an ID of some sort.
It was a Washington State driver's license with a name that definitely wasn't Sam Winchester on it.
And it wasn't the only one there. The entire box was full of different ID's and badges-FBI, police, you name it, and it was there.
"Hey, you okay?" Bobby asked from behind him.
Startled, the box slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, scattering the ID's everywhere.
"Who are you people?" He asked in a shaky voice, but he didn't wait around for an answer. He jogged backed over to the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. He was able to close and lock the door before the two men caught up to him.
He ignored their knocks on the door and headed to the bedroom. A sick feeling swept over him as he looked over all of the pictures of the two of them. Sam-if that was even his real name, and there was a large possibility that it wasn't-hadn't exactly lied to him although was omission of the truth the same as lying? Kurt wasn't sure. He had known that Sam was keeping things from him, had known that there were things that Sam wouldn't tell him, and he had continued the relationship anyway, but never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought that Sam would be keeping something like this from him.
Wondering what else Sam might be keeping from him-under his very nose-Kurt went through each drawer on their dresser. In the last drawer he found a small box. With a very large sense of trepidation, he opened it. It was full of mementos from their time together. The receipt from their first dinner that he had used to write his cell number on, a strip of pictures they had taken on Saturday afternoon at the mall, random post-it notes that Kurt often left around the apartment for him to find, the ticket from the baseball game they'd attended with his father, pictures of Kurt-most of which were just copies from the ones around the apartment but there were two pictures that Sam must have taken at the same time as he'd taken the close up-a series of postcards all sent to Sam at Stanford, and on the very bottom there was a worn picture of a much younger Sam and Dean. His hands trembling, he turned the picture over. The caption was short but said everything Kurt needed to know:
Sammy-thought you might want this; just in case you forgot what a good-lookin' SOB your big brother is while you're out in Cali.
So Dean had been telling the truth; he was Sam's brother. After staring at the photo for a minute, Kurt put everything back in the box and put it back where he'd found it. He was about to open the last drawer when Sam's phone began to beep with a message. He didn't recognize the number, but he opened it anyway, hoping that it might be Sam.
It was.
The text was short-only a line that said: I'll be home before you wake up. Love you.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was hitting the callback button and waiting for Sam to answer. After all, he had to be with the phone as the text had come in not even a full two minutes before.
No one answered.
Kurt looked around the room. In a pique of anger, he swept his hand across their dresser, knocking all of the pictures on the ground, their frames shattering upon impact.