SPN/RPF Fic: Waiting in the Wings
Title: Waiting in the Wings
Rating: PG?
Pairing: None
Word Count: 700
Spoilers: For season 7, specifically 7x10 and 7x23.
Warnings: Hmm. This story is more preparation for violence to come. Just in case, the warnings for Number One Fan included Kidnapping, pummeling, non-explicit animal abuse, non-explicit bad-touching.
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened.
Note: This story takes place before the events of Number One Fan and Comin' Down the Mountain, but it will make more sense to read those first. Fills the Mistaken Identity square on my hc_bingo card.
Summary: Those boys were all alone in the world now, and Sam needed somebody to take care of him.
(AO3)
When Bobby died, he started making preparations. Those boys were all alone in the world now, and Sam needed somebody to take care of him. Seeing the devil all the time, the poor thing. Dru knew a little something about that.
And Dean was in no shape to be looking after anybody, especially someone who needed as much attention and care as Sam obviously did.
Dean was in no shape, but Dru was. He had his father’s old hunting cabin, halfway up the mountain. It was quiet there, and peaceful. Secluded. Old Ben Thompson was the only neighbor for miles, and he kept himself to himself. It was a perfect place for Sam to rest and get his head on straight. Dru came out to the cabin from time to time to get his own head on straight, so he knew a little something about that, too.
Dru had been staying in the cabin off and on since his father’s death, but when he realized he was going to have company for an extended visit, he decided it needed sprucing up. Sam’s accommodations were often unpleasant, sure, especially lately since he and Dean didn’t have any credit cards to use. But Sam deserved better, that’s the whole point of this, so Dru decided to fix up the cabin as best he could. Clear out the mice and the spiders, sweep up the cobwebs and droppings. Not much to be done about the couch, poor saggy thing, but he could at least beat the dust off it.
Dru was not a selfish man, and he’d wanted to help others over the years, of course, most recently that football player in Texas, abandoned by his daddy, barely cared for by his older brother. He would have liked to take care of him and the ones before, make them better, and he watched carefully every week for signs that never came.
But then he’d shifted his attention to the Winchesters, watching as they saved and sacrificed and suffered. And he waited for Sam to give him a sign, and he did.
Luck had smiled on Dru one day last summer, and on Sam too, he supposed. He was halfway through his shift bussing tables at a pub when he looked out the window at the crowded street and saw Sam Winchester himself strolling by.
He’d looked a little different, a little shaggier, a little happier, but there was no doubt in Dru’s mind that it was Sam. He set down his tray and left the restaurant, following behind 20 feet or so until Sam got into a strange car.
Dru looked around for Dean and his old Chevy, but they were nowhere to be seen.
No matter. Dru had an excellent memory and he knew he could trace the car to an address. His investigation turned up some sort of safe house, he assumed, where Sam came to rest between his hunts.
He checked up on the safe house regularly, still watching the TV for his next signal, and when Bobby passed over he knew it was time to act.
Dru figured that Sam might be a little reluctant at first to stay with him, and Sam could be pretty stubborn sometimes. But Dru had visited a hardware store and bought a few feet of chain, got a good deal on some handcuffs online. Even found some gloves down on Cambie Street that would stop Sam from picking at his locks.
It seemed distasteful to imagine trussing Sam up like a turkey, but then, it was for his own good. No different than using a straitjacket to help patients intent on self-harm. Dru knew what was best for Sam, after all.
It was late spring, and everything was ready. He watched the TV for signs that Sam was ready to come to him, be cared for by him. When finally he saw Dean being sucked into Purgatory, he knew he’d been right to start preparing the cabin for company.
Sam, all alone in the world. He needed Dru; there couldn’t be any sign clearer than that.
He hummed to himself as he swept the cabin one last time. Sam liked walking that dog at the safe house; Dru should find himself one, a sweet little dog to help convince Sam to come with him.
Then it would be time for Dru to bring him home.