Freedom for jj1564
Title: Freedom
Recipient: jj1564
Rating: Everyone (no swearing or adult language or content.)
Word Count: 5094
Warnings: None
Author's Note: This is set immediately after the events of 15:13 Destiny's Child.
Summary: Prompt "AU Sam and Dean hunting in Florida without the aid of Daddy's money or a hunting network." HunterCorp was the family business but now, what do they really want?
“Dean, are you sure this is a good idea?” Sam gingerly picked the roughly woven fabric of his new shirt away from his skin. It was obviously a cheap poly/cotton blend and he looked ridiculous in the muddy brown plaid. Oh what he wouldn’t give to be wearing one of his rich coloured knit silk polos, or even a crisp ivory Battistoni dress shirt. If clothes truly made the man, then he and Dean could fall no further. His wardrobe was certainly something he missed from home.
When his brother didn’t answer, Sam turned to look at Dean. He too was wearing a coarse shirt and jeans, but somehow he still looked like himself. Despite the cheap hillbilly clothing, Dean radiated that same, easy adaptability that he always had. Thank heavens! Because there was no way Sam would want to be in this new world without Dean beside him. If he’d been separated from his brother during the jump, like they were from Dad, well he didn’t know what he would do. He sent a silent prayer skyward that their father was safe and sound wherever he’d appeared.
“Of course it’s a good idea, Sam,” Dean said. Although he sounded confident, Dean made no move to leave the car, and instead cast an assessing look at the rundown bar in front of them. The faded sign above the dingy door declared that they were at “Nancy’s,” and there was an illuminated sign in the dirty window advertising “Funky Buddha” on tap. The place looked sketchy at best even though it was only early evening, and their Fiat 500 looked terribly out of place amongst the mud splattered pickups and battered older model sedans.
“It’s just... I don’t understand what we’re doing here? This Carl fellow was calling the other Dean. If you hadn’t answered that phone, he would have just left a message and we’d be on our way to São Paulo.” He trusted his brother, but with everything going on, he had to question Dean’s thinking. There was no point in getting tangled up in the troubles of this world.
“Samuel,” Dean scolded. “A fellow Hunter needs help. It seems like our doppelgangers have their own important business to attend to, so if we can help out, why shouldn’t we?” Sam wasn’t sure if his brother was trying to convince him or himself.
“Besides,” Dean continued, “we are starting from scratch here Sam. There is no harm in networking with other Hunters.”
“Except Carl will be expecting this world’s version of us. Don’t you think he’ll figure out that we’re not them?” The Winchesters they had met in Kansas were rather rough characters and Sam prided himself on being a gentleman. Just because he was a Hunter didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the finer aspects of life. Still, he had to give their counterparts here some respect. They had managed to stay alive and do pretty well for themselves considering they had no money, no resources, and no recognition.
“Not if we keep that information to ourselves and focus on the job at hand.” Dean turned and gave Sam a roguish smile. “Just follow my lead.” And with that Dean opened the door and stepped out into the night. Sam followed more slowly. He still had concerns about this, concerns that grew as he accompanied Dean across the parking lot and into the bar.
Although it was Florida, this time of year the night air was cool, so inside was hotter than outside. Sam’s first impression of Nancy’s was one of heat and silence. When he and Dean stepped in the door, the quiet hum of conversation stopped and a myriad of eyes turned to stare at them. He looked around and recognized that everyone in the bar was dressed in some variation of their own outfits. There were guns and knives within easy reach and the tension was palpable. Sam connected the dots, Nancy’s was a Hunter bar. Presumably he and Dean were not assessed as a threat because after a moment conversation restarted and everyone turned back to their own business.
Dean tugged on his arm lightly and they made their way over to a booth where two men were sitting. The older man, presumably Carl, looked like many of the Hunters Sam remembered from his childhood. He was probably in his mid-fifties, but looked grizzled and worn down. The younger man on the other hand, was barely twenty. Carl stood with a hint of a smile on his face but the younger man just sat open mouthed.
“Dean. Sam, good to see you both.” Carl shook their hands and introduced his table mate. “This is Louis, he’s pretty new to this, but he’s been helping me out. Louis, this is Sam and Dean Winchester.” Louis awkwardly scrambled to his feet, still stuck behind the table and put out his hand. Dean was gracious as always, shaking Louis’ hand with the same public relations smile he gave the shareholders each year at HunterCorp.’s AGM. Sam just gave Louis a nod and at Dean’s gesture slid into the booth across from the kid.
“I’ll get us some beers,” said Carl before heading across the room towards the bar. Sam leaned back trying to avoid touching the sticky looking table. He’d much prefer a tart chardonnay, but he knew better than to say so. Their job was to fit in and he doubted his counterpart Sam was a wine connoisseur.
They sat in silence for some long moments. As Sam glanced around the room anxiously, he noticed that the other patrons were looking at them. Most were trying to be surreptitious, eyes flicking towards their table frequently as they drank and talked, but a few were opening staring, only looking away when Sam’s gaze swept over them.
“Wow, it’s an honour to meet you,” Louis practically gushed, breaking the silence. Sam didn’t mean to be rude, but all this attention was making him uncomfortable.
“Uh, why is everyone looking at us?” He had to ask.
“Are you kidding me? You guys are famous. I mean, you’re the Winchesters!” Louis leaned in his eyes wide. “Everybody’s heard about you two. How you’ve both served time in HelI, and were possessed by archangels and have a pet angel. I mean, I know a guy from Shreveport, and he told me that you’d wiped out the entire Styne family, just the two of you! It’s also going around that you blew up those British Men of Letters bastards and killed them all.” Louis flung his hands enthusiastically as he talked, obviously deeply impressed.
“I mean if even half the stuff people say about you is true, you two are friggin’ legends, man!” He glanced around to see if Carl was returning then leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “I heard that you guys can’t die. Is that true?”
xxxxxx
Dean didn’t have any idea what the kid was talking about, much less whether any of it was true. Of course, it wouldn’t do to admit it. Those claims seemed pretty far-fetched, but until a few weeks ago, so was the idea of an alternative world with copies of him and Sam. Dad had taught him years ago that half of hunting was reputation, so he gave Louis a tight smile and a non-answer.
“You know how Hunters like to talk,” was all he said, hoping it deflected the young man. Sam shifted in his seat beside him, eyes darting around the room. More than once Dean caught the word “Winchester” amongst the chatter. Maybe their duplicates were bigger deals than he had thought, which could cause problems later. He’d have to think about that. Louis nodded, but kept talking.
“Yeah, it’s just that this guy Walt told me…” Carl thunked down four bottles with a disapproving glare at his partner.
“Louis! What have I told you about flapping your mouth?” He shot an apologetic smile at them both as he slid into the booth across from Dean.
“Pay him no mind, the kid is greener than grass and twice as dumb.” Carl raised his bottle in a semi salute and took a long drink.
As always, Dean could tell that being in the public eye was making Sam anxious. There was a reason he was the public face of HunterCorp and not Sam. His brother was highly skilled and fully as much of a Hunter as him or Dad or any of the senior hunting staff. Sam just generally preferred research and strategic planning to field work. Dean picked up his beer and nudged Sam a little farther into the bench with his shoulder. They needed to play along for a little while longer. A little bit of the tension bled out of Sam’s shoulders and he cleared his throat.
“So Carl, I understand you need our help,” Sam said, ignoring his own beer. Carl waved his free hand at Louis, who broke from staring at them to dig a bundle of papers out from his bag. He passed a bunch of print outs to Sam.
“Something’s been killing people in the Apalachicola National Forest,” Carl explained. Dean leaned over to skim the news articles Sam was reading. One lurid headline read: “Monster bear mangles mother of two.”
“At first they blamed it on a bear, but I paid a visit to the coroner's office and those bite marks don’t look nothing like a bear. Louis here went and talked to that woman’s son who survived,” Carl tossed his chin at the article in Sam’s hands. “He’s pretty messed up, but he says it was a panther.”
“Yeah, but what he described to me sure doesn’t sound like a big cat. I think it’s a Wendigo.” Louis looked hopeful, obviously eager to impress them, but Carl just rolled his eyes.
“It’s not a Wendigo, ya moron,” Carl argued. Sam, who had been shuffling his way through the papers as the men talked, stilled beside him, stopping to scan what looked like an autopsy report. His brother had an almost encyclopedic mind for monsters, so Dean was not surprised when Sam cut in.
“It’s not a Wendigo. From what I see here, you’re dealing with a simple Skunk Ape,” Sam said confidently, handing the papers back to Louis. “Although it has supernatural origins, the Skunk Ape is really just a big predatory animal and can be killed with a large bore rifle and regular ammunition.” Sam was almost never wrong, so if he thought it was a Skunk Ape, that was good enough for Dean. Carl on the other hand looked politely skeptical.
“I uh, don’t mean to be disagreeable Sam, but a Skunk Ape? Those are a myth, just children’s stories, like Bigfoot or the Mothman.” Sam stiffened. Other than criticisms about his hair, there were very few things that would make Sam angry, but challenging his knowledge of monster lore was one of them. Dean kicked him under the table and shot him a warning look before Sam could argue back. They needed some allies for when the inevitable truth came out about who they really were.
“Look Carl, does it matter?,” Dean asked placatingly, drawing attention from Sam. “I say we head out tonight and kill whatever it is, huh? Then we can argue over the species.” Skunk Apes were a common enough nuisance back home, although HunterCorp was only called in to hunt ones that threatened or injured people. But, since it had been a while since Dean had done more than supervise a hunt, this would be a nice easy case to start with.
“Fair enough,” Carl said after a long pause, obviously eager enough for their help to let it slide. Putting down his bottle, he tugged a map out of Louis’ hands. He smoothed it out over the table. Condensation from their beers made a few wet spots, but Dean could read it easily enough. It was a detailed map of Apalachicola National Forest.
“We’re here,” Carl said pointing to the tiny dot on the edge of the map. “Hillardville butts up against the forest. These marks here represent where the attacks took place.” Dean studied the small x marks. If Carl was correct, then the monster they were looking for was likely somewhere in a deep patch of remote wilderness. A patch that was probably 60 square miles.
“That area is huge!” Dean exclaimed. “The odds of us finding the thing are pretty slim.” Beside him, Sam leaned over the map nodding.
“Well Louis and I have been out there searching for a week now and we’ve narrowed it down to this part here.” Carl put a thick finger down on the map. The area looked to be about 14 square miles. “That’s where you boys come in. We need you to start at one side and we’ll start at the other. Together we can flush out the damn thing.” Dean thought the plan was a little simplistic, but the point here was to build relationships. And if they killed the monster tonight, well that would be an added bonus.
“Sounds good,” Dean said as he slid the map closer and studied the roads he’d need to find to get into position.
“So Sam, what’s with the hair? Did ya lose a bet or something?” Without looking up, Dean dug his fingers into Sam’s knee.
xxxxxx
“I can't believe he had the gall to disparage my hair.” Sam was still annoyed even as he understood the need to play nice with these backwater Hunters. Dean had a plan, and until they found Dad, it was probably best to go along with it. But he had limits, so he was glad that he and Dean were alone.
“Sam,” Dean sighed, shifting the flashlight from one hand to the other. “Let it go. Can we please just focus on the job at hand?”
“Fine,” Sam huffed and shifted the uncomfortable weapons bag higher onto his shoulder. He was just irritable because usually they had a team to carry the gear. In fact, normally when they hunted, they knew exactly what they were hunting and where they were going thanks to detailed tech reconnaissance and air support. Not that he doubted his analysis of the data. They were definitely hunting a Skunk Ape. Sam had confirmed it from the primate-like bite marks from the autopsy report. Surely they could easily find and kill such a simple monster even without the technology. Of course if they did kill it, there was no longer a clean up crew who would follow behind and deal with the nasty parts of disposing of the body. Sam had told their look-alikes that their father spoiled them, and maybe that was more true than he thought. He silently vowed to stop complaining. After all he had hardly lost as much as his brother.
As the two of them trudged carefully through the dark forest, Sam was glad he had let Dean talk him into getting a pair of rugged hiking boots. His Berluti loafers would have been completely destroyed by the wiregrass and palmetto they were pushing through. The night was cooler than he expected Florida to be and he was also secretly glad for the thick flannel shirt that he was wearing. Their flashlights cast a narrow pool of light, just big enough so that they could see where they were stepping. The forest floor was generally flat, but it was dotted with sinkholes and boggy areas that slowed their progress.
Dean was in front of him as they picked their way around a large shrub when suddenly Sam’s feet went out from under him and he yelped. His flashlight bounced wildly as he slid and lost his grip on it. Instinctively he flailed out his arms, trying to catch himself, but he only fell for a second or two before he skidded to a halt.
“Sam!” Dean shouted, forgetting about stealth in his panic. Waving his flashlight around, Sam waved his hand in above the edge of the hollow where he had landed. Dean dropped to his knees in the slippery pine needles and grabbed his hand. Dean’s flashlight shone in his eyes, but he let Dean help him scramble up.
“I’m good Dean, I just slipped.” Sam looked back to see where he’d fallen. There was a hollow under the gallberry bush. Some animal had probably been using it as a den. It was little more than a sandy indentation in the earth, but since the shrub was hiding the overhang, it was deep enough to fall into. With Dean’s help, Sam pulled himself back upright. Together they examined the hidden burrow. Dean cast his light around the den, but there was no indication that anything larger than a raccoon had ever been here.
“Where’s my flashlight?” he asked. Dean looked around, probing the area thoroughly with his own but they were unable to find the other light. “Great” sighed Sam as he brushed pine needles from his jeans. “Let’s just keep moving.” Dean picked up their bag from where it had fallen and headed into the darkness.
xxxxxxx
The terrain had changed from sandy and dry to wet and swampy. The ground under his feet was spongy, oozing water that soaked through his boots and chilled his feet. They had been at this for at least a few hours now and they’d seen no trace of anything other than a lone fox that had loped away in the distance.
Dean wished he was home. Warm and dry, maybe tinkering in his workshop or even going over plans for next week’s training exercise. He wished he was lounging in bed reviewing investor data with Cassandra asleep close beside him, her dark hair tickling his arm as she snored softly. For perhaps the hundredth time, Dean wished that his father was here. Of course he missed the man’s warm smiles and positive encouragement, but what Dean really longed for was Dad’s leadership. When he’d answered Carl’s call back in the warmth and safety of the Other-Winchester’s bunker, it had seemed so easy. He and Sam could just jump right into hunting. But he obviously hadn’t been thinking straight. They hadn’t been completely alone on a hunt in years.
When Sam fell back there, he realized how foolish they were being. They weren’t ready for this. Sure, it had been a simple slip and fall, but what would happen next time? What if Sam got seriously hurt? There was no medical team on standby. There was no evac squad to whisk him to a hospital. There was nothing standing between Sam and the monsters of this world but Dean. That thought had his heart pounding in fear and his head spinning. He stopped to lean against a pine tree for a moment so that he didn’t pass out.
“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asked. There was almost no moonlight, so all he could see of his brother in the darkness was the shine of his eyes and the slant of his nose.
“Yeah, I just...” Dean hung his head, too embarrassed to confess how stupid he’d been.
“Just what?” Sam sounded worried and Dean knew that he owed Sam an explanation.
“I’m so sorry, Sam,” he stammered. Sam’s warm hand gripped his bicep and Dean straightened to look his brother in the face.
“Sorry for what, Dean?” Sam sounded genuinely puzzled and guilt turned in Dean’s stomach.
“For dragging you into this. For thinking that we had any business hunting right now. For making you go along with this ridiculous fiasco.” Sam shook him lightly.
“Hey. Don’t talk like that.” How like his brother to reassure him, even when he was risking Sam’s life. It calmed him somewhat and he patted Sam’s hand to show his appreciation.
“We shouldn’t be doing this. Look at us. We don’t know where we’re going, we barely have any weapons, we have no back up...” At that Sam cut him off.
“Come on Dean, we have each other as back up.” Dean raised the flashlight slightly to see Sam’s face. There was faith shining in the younger man’s eyes, a faith in him that he didn’t deserve, but nevertheless warmed Dean and made him smile. He gently tugged his arm from Sam’s grasp and reached out to pull some pine needles from his brother’s disheveled hair.
“You’re right Samuel. Smart as always.” Dean handed Sam the bundle of needles and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s keep going.”
An hour later and Dean was picking his way through the muck, circling a broader body of open water. With only one light between them, he had to alternate between illuminating the ground so that they could keep their footing and searching for the potential target of this hunt. It was slow, frustrating work and he was both sweaty from exertion and cold from the brisk breeze that periodically blew through his damp clothes. His feet were wet, and the mosquitoes were eating him alive. Another half an hour passed and Dean stopped. This whole job was pointless. They were never going to find the Skunk Ape in this mess and certainly not in the dark.
He turned to let Sam know that they were going to head back when the swamp beside him suddenly erupted. Instinctively he threw himself away from the water as San shouted his name. The flashlight went flying and he landed on his ass in the muddy plants, scrambling backwards. Sam’s hands were on his arms dragging him away as he caught the dark slickness of an alligator slipping back into the black water.
“Oh my god, that was close,” breathed Sam from where he was crouched by his shoulder. Dean was panting too much to answer, but he agreed. As he caught his breath, Sam scanned the darkness around them for a further threat, but it looked like the creature was gone. Unfortunately, so was his flashlight which had likely joined the reptile at the bottom of the swamp.
“Here, get me up!” His hand was covered in mud, but Sam didn’t hesitate to clasp it and help him get to his feet. They stood side by side as Dean’s heart rate went back to normal. The stillness of the night settled around them again, although the sounds of the swamp seemed louder somehow and the dark more absolute.
“Are you okay?” Sam whispered. Dean was wet and muddy from the waist down and he’d somehow twisted his ankle when he’d leapt to safety, but generally he was fine.
“Yeah, I think so.” His brother was standing close enough that Dean could almost hear Sam roll his eyes.
“Dean,” Sam said in his most disapproving tone, the one he used when he was worried and trying not to show it.
“No, seriously. I’m wet and my right ankle is sore, but other than that I’m fine.” After a long moment, Sam nodded, apparently accepting that Dean was telling the truth.
“Okay, good. So what do we do now?” Sam’s question weighed heavy on Dean. He was the one who had insisted on doing this disaster of a job. But there really was nothing they could do. They had been searching for over four hours before Dean had decided to head back. Without a source of light, there would be no way to hike back to the car. He had no desire to test their luck with any other alligators or have them break their necks falling down one of the many sinkholes that dotted the terrain. He sighed heavily, wishing once again that Dad was here.
“I think we’re stuck until daybreak, Sam.” It was Sam’s turn to sigh.
“Then let’s see if we can make our way back to where it’s a bit drier,” Sam suggested, slapping a mosquito from his neck. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled Dean’s arm over his broad shoulder and began a slow and cautious retreat back the way they had come.
xxxxxxx
Dean’s ankle was obviously bothering him more than he was letting on because Sam could hear his brother hiss in pain every few steps. With Dean hurt and no way to call for help, it was up to Sam to keep them safe. The first step had to be to get away from the water. When that alligator had lunged at Dean, he’d thought his heart had stopped. He’d already lost all his friends and co-workers, Dad was missing...he couldn’t lose Dean too.
His whole life Dean had been his best friend. When they were kids, Dad and Uncle Bobby had been gone a lot, building HunterCorp, and although they’d had guardians and teachers, the only person who really understood him was Dean. His brother always supported him in his interests and hobbies no matter how eccentric and Dean’s encouragement had helped him overcome his natural shyness. Trying to rebuild a life here in this new world would be completely overwhelming without Dean.
“Sam, stop. Here’s good.“ Lost in his thoughts, Sam hadn’t realized that they had moved beyond the swampy area and were back on dry land. The forest here was covered in pine needles, so Sam helped Dean lower himself down against the base of a tree. He dropped down to sit beside his brother, more winded then he had thought. The Cartier on his wrist told him it was still a few minutes until midnight, so they were going to have a long and uncomfortable night.
“We’ve gotten soft, Sam.” Dean’s words were spoken into his knees which he had drawn up to his chest, the picture of dejection. “Back home we barely had to get our hands dirty, and look at us now.” He ruefully held up arms even though the mud he was covered in was invisible in the dark. Sam could relate, his hair had come loose and was currently a tangled mess, his hands were scraped and grimy and from the knee down he was as wet and bedraggled as his brother.
“So why did you agree to take this job?” Sam asked. He was genuinely curious and a little worried for Dean. The older man had been driven ever since they’d left Kansas, excessively focused on getting to Florida and diving headlong into this hunt. Dean shifted with a faint groan, stretching out his legs in front of him and leaning back against the tree trunk.
“I guess I just thought that if we could do this, if we could prove that we were still Hunters, then everything wouldn’t seem so...strange. Like if we just kept moving, then it’s not really all gone, you know?” Dean sounded so wistful and Sam’s heart broke for him.
“I know. But it is all gone,” Sam pointed out as gently as he could. “She’s gone,” he added even more softly.
When Cassandra had first come into Dean’s life, he had to admit that he’d been jealous. He didn’t like sharing his brother. However, over time he’d come to see how Dean had blossomed with her attention, how happy he was, and he’d reluctantly come to like his future sister-in-law. But when news of the extinction event had come, she’d been visiting her mother in Missouri. There was no time to bring her back to headquarters and she and Dean had said their goodbye over the phone. Foolishly Sam had thought that Dean was doing okay, but in hindsight, he should have seen how his brother was struggling. Dean muffled a sniff, wiping his nose with the cleanest part of his sleeve.
“I’m well aware, Sam but I don’t want to talk about Cassandra, okay?” Sam nodded, forgetting that Dean couldn’t see him in the darkness. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Dean more pain. Sam’s old life was full of his research pursuits and hobbies. He’d had friends and colleagues that he liked - even cared about, but he couldn’t know how his brother was feeling. He leaned a little closer, pressing his shoulder against Dean’s to offer some silent comfort. They sat like that in silence for a long time.
“HunterCorp is all I know.” When Dean finally spoke again his voice was steady once more. “If I’m not a Hunter, then who am I?” Dean asked. Sam paused to find the right words.
“You’re my big brother, Dean. And a lot more than just a Hunter. You have a degree in Mechanical Engineering.”
“Not in this world,” Dean cut in, but Sam was not to be deterred.
“So? You could easily get your credentials forged and you’d be a huge asset to any engineering firm. Or if you wanted, you could start your own business,” Sam argued, but Dean just scoffed.
“You could.” He wasn’t going to let Dean wallow in self-doubt. “And you’re great with money. Even Dad says you’ve more than doubled our trust funds over the past few years.” Sam seldom paid much attention to the corporate side of the family business, but he remembered Dad’s warm praise and how proud he was of Dean.
“I guess,” Dean grudgingly acknowledged.
“Look, you can keep hunting if you want to, but now you have the freedom to do whatever you want.” Sam knew that Dean was capable of so much more than following in Dad’s footsteps. He could tell Dean was thinking this through. For the first time his brother could have a future that wasn’t laid out in detail before him.
“What do you want to do?” Dean’s question was unexpected but spoke volumes. As the youngest Winchester, Sam usually went along with whatever Dean and Dad decided. He’d learned long ago that it was a small price to pay for the benefits of a comfortable life where he could indulge his interests. So, to have Dean ask for his opinion and treat him like an equal meant a lot. Suddenly, despite their current circumstance, Sam was happy.
“Well, I was thinking we could brush up on our Portuguese and go see what Brazil has to offer.” It felt freeing to have no specific plans, no schedule, no expectations. There was a certain peace to be found imagining a future unwritten. Dean nudged him with his elbow.
“Sounds like a great idea.” Settling closer to the rough bark, Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head back against the tree. “As long as we’re together Sam, we’ll figure it out.”
The end.
Recipient: jj1564
Rating: Everyone (no swearing or adult language or content.)
Word Count: 5094
Warnings: None
Author's Note: This is set immediately after the events of 15:13 Destiny's Child.
Summary: Prompt "AU Sam and Dean hunting in Florida without the aid of Daddy's money or a hunting network." HunterCorp was the family business but now, what do they really want?
“Dean, are you sure this is a good idea?” Sam gingerly picked the roughly woven fabric of his new shirt away from his skin. It was obviously a cheap poly/cotton blend and he looked ridiculous in the muddy brown plaid. Oh what he wouldn’t give to be wearing one of his rich coloured knit silk polos, or even a crisp ivory Battistoni dress shirt. If clothes truly made the man, then he and Dean could fall no further. His wardrobe was certainly something he missed from home.
When his brother didn’t answer, Sam turned to look at Dean. He too was wearing a coarse shirt and jeans, but somehow he still looked like himself. Despite the cheap hillbilly clothing, Dean radiated that same, easy adaptability that he always had. Thank heavens! Because there was no way Sam would want to be in this new world without Dean beside him. If he’d been separated from his brother during the jump, like they were from Dad, well he didn’t know what he would do. He sent a silent prayer skyward that their father was safe and sound wherever he’d appeared.
“Of course it’s a good idea, Sam,” Dean said. Although he sounded confident, Dean made no move to leave the car, and instead cast an assessing look at the rundown bar in front of them. The faded sign above the dingy door declared that they were at “Nancy’s,” and there was an illuminated sign in the dirty window advertising “Funky Buddha” on tap. The place looked sketchy at best even though it was only early evening, and their Fiat 500 looked terribly out of place amongst the mud splattered pickups and battered older model sedans.
“It’s just... I don’t understand what we’re doing here? This Carl fellow was calling the other Dean. If you hadn’t answered that phone, he would have just left a message and we’d be on our way to São Paulo.” He trusted his brother, but with everything going on, he had to question Dean’s thinking. There was no point in getting tangled up in the troubles of this world.
“Samuel,” Dean scolded. “A fellow Hunter needs help. It seems like our doppelgangers have their own important business to attend to, so if we can help out, why shouldn’t we?” Sam wasn’t sure if his brother was trying to convince him or himself.
“Besides,” Dean continued, “we are starting from scratch here Sam. There is no harm in networking with other Hunters.”
“Except Carl will be expecting this world’s version of us. Don’t you think he’ll figure out that we’re not them?” The Winchesters they had met in Kansas were rather rough characters and Sam prided himself on being a gentleman. Just because he was a Hunter didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the finer aspects of life. Still, he had to give their counterparts here some respect. They had managed to stay alive and do pretty well for themselves considering they had no money, no resources, and no recognition.
“Not if we keep that information to ourselves and focus on the job at hand.” Dean turned and gave Sam a roguish smile. “Just follow my lead.” And with that Dean opened the door and stepped out into the night. Sam followed more slowly. He still had concerns about this, concerns that grew as he accompanied Dean across the parking lot and into the bar.
Although it was Florida, this time of year the night air was cool, so inside was hotter than outside. Sam’s first impression of Nancy’s was one of heat and silence. When he and Dean stepped in the door, the quiet hum of conversation stopped and a myriad of eyes turned to stare at them. He looked around and recognized that everyone in the bar was dressed in some variation of their own outfits. There were guns and knives within easy reach and the tension was palpable. Sam connected the dots, Nancy’s was a Hunter bar. Presumably he and Dean were not assessed as a threat because after a moment conversation restarted and everyone turned back to their own business.
Dean tugged on his arm lightly and they made their way over to a booth where two men were sitting. The older man, presumably Carl, looked like many of the Hunters Sam remembered from his childhood. He was probably in his mid-fifties, but looked grizzled and worn down. The younger man on the other hand, was barely twenty. Carl stood with a hint of a smile on his face but the younger man just sat open mouthed.
“Dean. Sam, good to see you both.” Carl shook their hands and introduced his table mate. “This is Louis, he’s pretty new to this, but he’s been helping me out. Louis, this is Sam and Dean Winchester.” Louis awkwardly scrambled to his feet, still stuck behind the table and put out his hand. Dean was gracious as always, shaking Louis’ hand with the same public relations smile he gave the shareholders each year at HunterCorp.’s AGM. Sam just gave Louis a nod and at Dean’s gesture slid into the booth across from the kid.
“I’ll get us some beers,” said Carl before heading across the room towards the bar. Sam leaned back trying to avoid touching the sticky looking table. He’d much prefer a tart chardonnay, but he knew better than to say so. Their job was to fit in and he doubted his counterpart Sam was a wine connoisseur.
They sat in silence for some long moments. As Sam glanced around the room anxiously, he noticed that the other patrons were looking at them. Most were trying to be surreptitious, eyes flicking towards their table frequently as they drank and talked, but a few were opening staring, only looking away when Sam’s gaze swept over them.
“Wow, it’s an honour to meet you,” Louis practically gushed, breaking the silence. Sam didn’t mean to be rude, but all this attention was making him uncomfortable.
“Uh, why is everyone looking at us?” He had to ask.
“Are you kidding me? You guys are famous. I mean, you’re the Winchesters!” Louis leaned in his eyes wide. “Everybody’s heard about you two. How you’ve both served time in HelI, and were possessed by archangels and have a pet angel. I mean, I know a guy from Shreveport, and he told me that you’d wiped out the entire Styne family, just the two of you! It’s also going around that you blew up those British Men of Letters bastards and killed them all.” Louis flung his hands enthusiastically as he talked, obviously deeply impressed.
“I mean if even half the stuff people say about you is true, you two are friggin’ legends, man!” He glanced around to see if Carl was returning then leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “I heard that you guys can’t die. Is that true?”
xxxxxx
Dean didn’t have any idea what the kid was talking about, much less whether any of it was true. Of course, it wouldn’t do to admit it. Those claims seemed pretty far-fetched, but until a few weeks ago, so was the idea of an alternative world with copies of him and Sam. Dad had taught him years ago that half of hunting was reputation, so he gave Louis a tight smile and a non-answer.
“You know how Hunters like to talk,” was all he said, hoping it deflected the young man. Sam shifted in his seat beside him, eyes darting around the room. More than once Dean caught the word “Winchester” amongst the chatter. Maybe their duplicates were bigger deals than he had thought, which could cause problems later. He’d have to think about that. Louis nodded, but kept talking.
“Yeah, it’s just that this guy Walt told me…” Carl thunked down four bottles with a disapproving glare at his partner.
“Louis! What have I told you about flapping your mouth?” He shot an apologetic smile at them both as he slid into the booth across from Dean.
“Pay him no mind, the kid is greener than grass and twice as dumb.” Carl raised his bottle in a semi salute and took a long drink.
As always, Dean could tell that being in the public eye was making Sam anxious. There was a reason he was the public face of HunterCorp and not Sam. His brother was highly skilled and fully as much of a Hunter as him or Dad or any of the senior hunting staff. Sam just generally preferred research and strategic planning to field work. Dean picked up his beer and nudged Sam a little farther into the bench with his shoulder. They needed to play along for a little while longer. A little bit of the tension bled out of Sam’s shoulders and he cleared his throat.
“So Carl, I understand you need our help,” Sam said, ignoring his own beer. Carl waved his free hand at Louis, who broke from staring at them to dig a bundle of papers out from his bag. He passed a bunch of print outs to Sam.
“Something’s been killing people in the Apalachicola National Forest,” Carl explained. Dean leaned over to skim the news articles Sam was reading. One lurid headline read: “Monster bear mangles mother of two.”
“At first they blamed it on a bear, but I paid a visit to the coroner's office and those bite marks don’t look nothing like a bear. Louis here went and talked to that woman’s son who survived,” Carl tossed his chin at the article in Sam’s hands. “He’s pretty messed up, but he says it was a panther.”
“Yeah, but what he described to me sure doesn’t sound like a big cat. I think it’s a Wendigo.” Louis looked hopeful, obviously eager to impress them, but Carl just rolled his eyes.
“It’s not a Wendigo, ya moron,” Carl argued. Sam, who had been shuffling his way through the papers as the men talked, stilled beside him, stopping to scan what looked like an autopsy report. His brother had an almost encyclopedic mind for monsters, so Dean was not surprised when Sam cut in.
“It’s not a Wendigo. From what I see here, you’re dealing with a simple Skunk Ape,” Sam said confidently, handing the papers back to Louis. “Although it has supernatural origins, the Skunk Ape is really just a big predatory animal and can be killed with a large bore rifle and regular ammunition.” Sam was almost never wrong, so if he thought it was a Skunk Ape, that was good enough for Dean. Carl on the other hand looked politely skeptical.
“I uh, don’t mean to be disagreeable Sam, but a Skunk Ape? Those are a myth, just children’s stories, like Bigfoot or the Mothman.” Sam stiffened. Other than criticisms about his hair, there were very few things that would make Sam angry, but challenging his knowledge of monster lore was one of them. Dean kicked him under the table and shot him a warning look before Sam could argue back. They needed some allies for when the inevitable truth came out about who they really were.
“Look Carl, does it matter?,” Dean asked placatingly, drawing attention from Sam. “I say we head out tonight and kill whatever it is, huh? Then we can argue over the species.” Skunk Apes were a common enough nuisance back home, although HunterCorp was only called in to hunt ones that threatened or injured people. But, since it had been a while since Dean had done more than supervise a hunt, this would be a nice easy case to start with.
“Fair enough,” Carl said after a long pause, obviously eager enough for their help to let it slide. Putting down his bottle, he tugged a map out of Louis’ hands. He smoothed it out over the table. Condensation from their beers made a few wet spots, but Dean could read it easily enough. It was a detailed map of Apalachicola National Forest.
“We’re here,” Carl said pointing to the tiny dot on the edge of the map. “Hillardville butts up against the forest. These marks here represent where the attacks took place.” Dean studied the small x marks. If Carl was correct, then the monster they were looking for was likely somewhere in a deep patch of remote wilderness. A patch that was probably 60 square miles.
“That area is huge!” Dean exclaimed. “The odds of us finding the thing are pretty slim.” Beside him, Sam leaned over the map nodding.
“Well Louis and I have been out there searching for a week now and we’ve narrowed it down to this part here.” Carl put a thick finger down on the map. The area looked to be about 14 square miles. “That’s where you boys come in. We need you to start at one side and we’ll start at the other. Together we can flush out the damn thing.” Dean thought the plan was a little simplistic, but the point here was to build relationships. And if they killed the monster tonight, well that would be an added bonus.
“Sounds good,” Dean said as he slid the map closer and studied the roads he’d need to find to get into position.
“So Sam, what’s with the hair? Did ya lose a bet or something?” Without looking up, Dean dug his fingers into Sam’s knee.
xxxxxx
“I can't believe he had the gall to disparage my hair.” Sam was still annoyed even as he understood the need to play nice with these backwater Hunters. Dean had a plan, and until they found Dad, it was probably best to go along with it. But he had limits, so he was glad that he and Dean were alone.
“Sam,” Dean sighed, shifting the flashlight from one hand to the other. “Let it go. Can we please just focus on the job at hand?”
“Fine,” Sam huffed and shifted the uncomfortable weapons bag higher onto his shoulder. He was just irritable because usually they had a team to carry the gear. In fact, normally when they hunted, they knew exactly what they were hunting and where they were going thanks to detailed tech reconnaissance and air support. Not that he doubted his analysis of the data. They were definitely hunting a Skunk Ape. Sam had confirmed it from the primate-like bite marks from the autopsy report. Surely they could easily find and kill such a simple monster even without the technology. Of course if they did kill it, there was no longer a clean up crew who would follow behind and deal with the nasty parts of disposing of the body. Sam had told their look-alikes that their father spoiled them, and maybe that was more true than he thought. He silently vowed to stop complaining. After all he had hardly lost as much as his brother.
As the two of them trudged carefully through the dark forest, Sam was glad he had let Dean talk him into getting a pair of rugged hiking boots. His Berluti loafers would have been completely destroyed by the wiregrass and palmetto they were pushing through. The night was cooler than he expected Florida to be and he was also secretly glad for the thick flannel shirt that he was wearing. Their flashlights cast a narrow pool of light, just big enough so that they could see where they were stepping. The forest floor was generally flat, but it was dotted with sinkholes and boggy areas that slowed their progress.
Dean was in front of him as they picked their way around a large shrub when suddenly Sam’s feet went out from under him and he yelped. His flashlight bounced wildly as he slid and lost his grip on it. Instinctively he flailed out his arms, trying to catch himself, but he only fell for a second or two before he skidded to a halt.
“Sam!” Dean shouted, forgetting about stealth in his panic. Waving his flashlight around, Sam waved his hand in above the edge of the hollow where he had landed. Dean dropped to his knees in the slippery pine needles and grabbed his hand. Dean’s flashlight shone in his eyes, but he let Dean help him scramble up.
“I’m good Dean, I just slipped.” Sam looked back to see where he’d fallen. There was a hollow under the gallberry bush. Some animal had probably been using it as a den. It was little more than a sandy indentation in the earth, but since the shrub was hiding the overhang, it was deep enough to fall into. With Dean’s help, Sam pulled himself back upright. Together they examined the hidden burrow. Dean cast his light around the den, but there was no indication that anything larger than a raccoon had ever been here.
“Where’s my flashlight?” he asked. Dean looked around, probing the area thoroughly with his own but they were unable to find the other light. “Great” sighed Sam as he brushed pine needles from his jeans. “Let’s just keep moving.” Dean picked up their bag from where it had fallen and headed into the darkness.
xxxxxxx
The terrain had changed from sandy and dry to wet and swampy. The ground under his feet was spongy, oozing water that soaked through his boots and chilled his feet. They had been at this for at least a few hours now and they’d seen no trace of anything other than a lone fox that had loped away in the distance.
Dean wished he was home. Warm and dry, maybe tinkering in his workshop or even going over plans for next week’s training exercise. He wished he was lounging in bed reviewing investor data with Cassandra asleep close beside him, her dark hair tickling his arm as she snored softly. For perhaps the hundredth time, Dean wished that his father was here. Of course he missed the man’s warm smiles and positive encouragement, but what Dean really longed for was Dad’s leadership. When he’d answered Carl’s call back in the warmth and safety of the Other-Winchester’s bunker, it had seemed so easy. He and Sam could just jump right into hunting. But he obviously hadn’t been thinking straight. They hadn’t been completely alone on a hunt in years.
When Sam fell back there, he realized how foolish they were being. They weren’t ready for this. Sure, it had been a simple slip and fall, but what would happen next time? What if Sam got seriously hurt? There was no medical team on standby. There was no evac squad to whisk him to a hospital. There was nothing standing between Sam and the monsters of this world but Dean. That thought had his heart pounding in fear and his head spinning. He stopped to lean against a pine tree for a moment so that he didn’t pass out.
“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asked. There was almost no moonlight, so all he could see of his brother in the darkness was the shine of his eyes and the slant of his nose.
“Yeah, I just...” Dean hung his head, too embarrassed to confess how stupid he’d been.
“Just what?” Sam sounded worried and Dean knew that he owed Sam an explanation.
“I’m so sorry, Sam,” he stammered. Sam’s warm hand gripped his bicep and Dean straightened to look his brother in the face.
“Sorry for what, Dean?” Sam sounded genuinely puzzled and guilt turned in Dean’s stomach.
“For dragging you into this. For thinking that we had any business hunting right now. For making you go along with this ridiculous fiasco.” Sam shook him lightly.
“Hey. Don’t talk like that.” How like his brother to reassure him, even when he was risking Sam’s life. It calmed him somewhat and he patted Sam’s hand to show his appreciation.
“We shouldn’t be doing this. Look at us. We don’t know where we’re going, we barely have any weapons, we have no back up...” At that Sam cut him off.
“Come on Dean, we have each other as back up.” Dean raised the flashlight slightly to see Sam’s face. There was faith shining in the younger man’s eyes, a faith in him that he didn’t deserve, but nevertheless warmed Dean and made him smile. He gently tugged his arm from Sam’s grasp and reached out to pull some pine needles from his brother’s disheveled hair.
“You’re right Samuel. Smart as always.” Dean handed Sam the bundle of needles and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s keep going.”
An hour later and Dean was picking his way through the muck, circling a broader body of open water. With only one light between them, he had to alternate between illuminating the ground so that they could keep their footing and searching for the potential target of this hunt. It was slow, frustrating work and he was both sweaty from exertion and cold from the brisk breeze that periodically blew through his damp clothes. His feet were wet, and the mosquitoes were eating him alive. Another half an hour passed and Dean stopped. This whole job was pointless. They were never going to find the Skunk Ape in this mess and certainly not in the dark.
He turned to let Sam know that they were going to head back when the swamp beside him suddenly erupted. Instinctively he threw himself away from the water as San shouted his name. The flashlight went flying and he landed on his ass in the muddy plants, scrambling backwards. Sam’s hands were on his arms dragging him away as he caught the dark slickness of an alligator slipping back into the black water.
“Oh my god, that was close,” breathed Sam from where he was crouched by his shoulder. Dean was panting too much to answer, but he agreed. As he caught his breath, Sam scanned the darkness around them for a further threat, but it looked like the creature was gone. Unfortunately, so was his flashlight which had likely joined the reptile at the bottom of the swamp.
“Here, get me up!” His hand was covered in mud, but Sam didn’t hesitate to clasp it and help him get to his feet. They stood side by side as Dean’s heart rate went back to normal. The stillness of the night settled around them again, although the sounds of the swamp seemed louder somehow and the dark more absolute.
“Are you okay?” Sam whispered. Dean was wet and muddy from the waist down and he’d somehow twisted his ankle when he’d leapt to safety, but generally he was fine.
“Yeah, I think so.” His brother was standing close enough that Dean could almost hear Sam roll his eyes.
“Dean,” Sam said in his most disapproving tone, the one he used when he was worried and trying not to show it.
“No, seriously. I’m wet and my right ankle is sore, but other than that I’m fine.” After a long moment, Sam nodded, apparently accepting that Dean was telling the truth.
“Okay, good. So what do we do now?” Sam’s question weighed heavy on Dean. He was the one who had insisted on doing this disaster of a job. But there really was nothing they could do. They had been searching for over four hours before Dean had decided to head back. Without a source of light, there would be no way to hike back to the car. He had no desire to test their luck with any other alligators or have them break their necks falling down one of the many sinkholes that dotted the terrain. He sighed heavily, wishing once again that Dad was here.
“I think we’re stuck until daybreak, Sam.” It was Sam’s turn to sigh.
“Then let’s see if we can make our way back to where it’s a bit drier,” Sam suggested, slapping a mosquito from his neck. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled Dean’s arm over his broad shoulder and began a slow and cautious retreat back the way they had come.
xxxxxxx
Dean’s ankle was obviously bothering him more than he was letting on because Sam could hear his brother hiss in pain every few steps. With Dean hurt and no way to call for help, it was up to Sam to keep them safe. The first step had to be to get away from the water. When that alligator had lunged at Dean, he’d thought his heart had stopped. He’d already lost all his friends and co-workers, Dad was missing...he couldn’t lose Dean too.
His whole life Dean had been his best friend. When they were kids, Dad and Uncle Bobby had been gone a lot, building HunterCorp, and although they’d had guardians and teachers, the only person who really understood him was Dean. His brother always supported him in his interests and hobbies no matter how eccentric and Dean’s encouragement had helped him overcome his natural shyness. Trying to rebuild a life here in this new world would be completely overwhelming without Dean.
“Sam, stop. Here’s good.“ Lost in his thoughts, Sam hadn’t realized that they had moved beyond the swampy area and were back on dry land. The forest here was covered in pine needles, so Sam helped Dean lower himself down against the base of a tree. He dropped down to sit beside his brother, more winded then he had thought. The Cartier on his wrist told him it was still a few minutes until midnight, so they were going to have a long and uncomfortable night.
“We’ve gotten soft, Sam.” Dean’s words were spoken into his knees which he had drawn up to his chest, the picture of dejection. “Back home we barely had to get our hands dirty, and look at us now.” He ruefully held up arms even though the mud he was covered in was invisible in the dark. Sam could relate, his hair had come loose and was currently a tangled mess, his hands were scraped and grimy and from the knee down he was as wet and bedraggled as his brother.
“So why did you agree to take this job?” Sam asked. He was genuinely curious and a little worried for Dean. The older man had been driven ever since they’d left Kansas, excessively focused on getting to Florida and diving headlong into this hunt. Dean shifted with a faint groan, stretching out his legs in front of him and leaning back against the tree trunk.
“I guess I just thought that if we could do this, if we could prove that we were still Hunters, then everything wouldn’t seem so...strange. Like if we just kept moving, then it’s not really all gone, you know?” Dean sounded so wistful and Sam’s heart broke for him.
“I know. But it is all gone,” Sam pointed out as gently as he could. “She’s gone,” he added even more softly.
When Cassandra had first come into Dean’s life, he had to admit that he’d been jealous. He didn’t like sharing his brother. However, over time he’d come to see how Dean had blossomed with her attention, how happy he was, and he’d reluctantly come to like his future sister-in-law. But when news of the extinction event had come, she’d been visiting her mother in Missouri. There was no time to bring her back to headquarters and she and Dean had said their goodbye over the phone. Foolishly Sam had thought that Dean was doing okay, but in hindsight, he should have seen how his brother was struggling. Dean muffled a sniff, wiping his nose with the cleanest part of his sleeve.
“I’m well aware, Sam but I don’t want to talk about Cassandra, okay?” Sam nodded, forgetting that Dean couldn’t see him in the darkness. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Dean more pain. Sam’s old life was full of his research pursuits and hobbies. He’d had friends and colleagues that he liked - even cared about, but he couldn’t know how his brother was feeling. He leaned a little closer, pressing his shoulder against Dean’s to offer some silent comfort. They sat like that in silence for a long time.
“HunterCorp is all I know.” When Dean finally spoke again his voice was steady once more. “If I’m not a Hunter, then who am I?” Dean asked. Sam paused to find the right words.
“You’re my big brother, Dean. And a lot more than just a Hunter. You have a degree in Mechanical Engineering.”
“Not in this world,” Dean cut in, but Sam was not to be deterred.
“So? You could easily get your credentials forged and you’d be a huge asset to any engineering firm. Or if you wanted, you could start your own business,” Sam argued, but Dean just scoffed.
“You could.” He wasn’t going to let Dean wallow in self-doubt. “And you’re great with money. Even Dad says you’ve more than doubled our trust funds over the past few years.” Sam seldom paid much attention to the corporate side of the family business, but he remembered Dad’s warm praise and how proud he was of Dean.
“I guess,” Dean grudgingly acknowledged.
“Look, you can keep hunting if you want to, but now you have the freedom to do whatever you want.” Sam knew that Dean was capable of so much more than following in Dad’s footsteps. He could tell Dean was thinking this through. For the first time his brother could have a future that wasn’t laid out in detail before him.
“What do you want to do?” Dean’s question was unexpected but spoke volumes. As the youngest Winchester, Sam usually went along with whatever Dean and Dad decided. He’d learned long ago that it was a small price to pay for the benefits of a comfortable life where he could indulge his interests. So, to have Dean ask for his opinion and treat him like an equal meant a lot. Suddenly, despite their current circumstance, Sam was happy.
“Well, I was thinking we could brush up on our Portuguese and go see what Brazil has to offer.” It felt freeing to have no specific plans, no schedule, no expectations. There was a certain peace to be found imagining a future unwritten. Dean nudged him with his elbow.
“Sounds like a great idea.” Settling closer to the rough bark, Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head back against the tree. “As long as we’re together Sam, we’ll figure it out.”
The end.