Getting to Know You
Title: Getting to Know You
Author: zanne68
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1142
Disclaimers: I don't own, or claim to own, the Winchesters or the Winchester Universe.
Author's Note: Early Season One, between the pilot and Wendigo. It's a long drive and Dean is bored. But reacquainting with his brother has its surprises.
The tape player finally crapped out somewhere in the middle of Nevada. Dean only just managed to save his favorite AC/DC cassette from being chewed to a twisted mess of magnetic tape. He couldn’t even manage to swear at the thing-he’d known for the last two weeks that it was acting up and close to meeting its mechanical maker. Instead, he sighed heavily as he tossed the tape in his box. And he just knew Sam was rolling his eyes and trying not to grin as he pretended to study the empty flatlands rolling by. Damn, this drive was going to be longer than ever now. Maybe he could have a little fun, though.
“So. Conversation, then, huh?”
Sam turned to give him a puzzled look and a half-smile. “I guess.”
Dean’s smirk took a wicked twist. “Who was your first?”
“What?”
“You know. Your first encounter with a female of the naked persuasion.”
“Maybe conversation isn’t such a hot idea.” Sam was already turning a lovely shade of pink. Awesome.
“Aw, come on, Sammy. You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
“I already know yours, Dean. I walked in on the deed in progress, remember?”
“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. Sam had been twelve and only just starting to notice girls. He hadn’t been able to look Dean in the eye for a month.
“So, who was she?”
“It’s personal, Dean.”
“You had a real thing for that brunette in that play when you were a senior. What was her name...Amy, Amanda...”
“Andrea,” Sam corrected. “And no, it wasn’t her.” His jaw tensed, and he folded his arms across his chest, hoping his brother would get the message.
Dean got it loud and clear, all right, but he was just getting warmed up. “What about that lab partner you had? She had the hots for you big time. Used to drive by the house a dozen times every weekend.”
“No, it wasn’t Kelly, either. Drop it, Dean.” His warning tone went completely ignored.
“So no action in high school. Man, that’s sad. I bet it was Jess, then.”
“Dean...”
“No? Really? Hmmm. Had to be before that, then. After graduation...”
“Why don’t we stop and get something to eat? I’m hungry.”
“Oh no, Sammy, you’re not gonna distract me that easily.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. Dean grinned.
“You didn’t pick up some random chick on the bus to Stanford, did you? ‘Cause man, that’s just asking for trouble.”
“God, Dean, no, I didn’t pick up some random chick on the bus to Stanford! I’m going to sleep.” He slouched down into his seat, laid his head against the door, and closed his eyes. For a minute or two, Dean’s silence gave him hope his brother had given up his line of questioning. But then there was a backhanded thwap to his shoulder and a cry of triumph from the driver’s seat.
“Got it! That last hunt before you left, the family had a daughter...Brenda, I think? She was awfully glad to see you blast that poltergeist in her bedroom...”
“It was Meredith, all right?” Sam finally blurted out in frustration. “Will you drop it now, please.” It wasn’t a request. But it figured that giving Dean the answer he wanted only led to other questions.
“Meredith?” Dean’s attention wandered away from the straight, flat, empty road as he tried to recall this particular girl. “Who’s Meredith?”
“Dean, eyes on the road!” They didn’t have time to see what the four-legged wildlife was as it toddled onto the highway, and Dean very nearly ended its daily constitutional by printing Goodyear across its back. Sam glanced in the side mirror in time to see it scurry back into the sandy brush, probably to have a minor heart attack.
“Who’s Meredith?” Dean repeated, now solidly on a new track.
Sam leaned his elbow out the window and rubbed at his forehead, surrendering the information to Dean’s persistence. Eyes closed, he sighed. “Remember when we were living in Idaho in ’89?”
“Uh, yeah. I think. Dad took care of a haunted cabin way out in the boonies. Some nasty spirit killed an entire family. Wait, there was one survivor, girl about fifteen, sixteen.”
“And Dad had her stay with us while he hunted the thing down.”
“Yeah, I remember. I was pissed ‘cause he left us with a freakin’ babysitter. A freaked out babysitter.”
“That’s Meredith.”
Ten seconds of silence followed as Dean processed this. Then his eyes popped wide in shock. “Dude, she was your first? You were six! That’s just wrong in so many ways.” He was horrified. His baby brother shouldn’t have been hooking up in first grade. “Wait, she didn’t...”
“No, Dean. God. Your imagination gets out of control sometimes, you know that?” To keep from rolling his eyes completely out of the car, he went back to watching the scenery.
“SO???”
“I wrote to her once in a while over the years. You helped me the first few times.”
Utterly relieved, Dean went back to smirking as another memory came back to him. “I gave you a lot of crap about being sweet on the babysitter, didn’t I?”
“Which is why I started writing at school. All my teachers thought it was nice that I had a pen pal.” Now that he was in the middle of the story, fond memories flooded back, and he talked more easily. “I wrote to her whenever we moved, and she’d send her letters to whatever school I was at. Usually it was just around my birthday and Christmas, but I wrote about every other month.”
“Dude, we didn’t move that often.”
“She convinced me not to run off when I was fourteen.” He’d never told anyone that before. Dean’s eyes were boring holes through him, he could feel it. “Dean. Road.”
Five more miles passed before Dean cleared his throat. His heart wasn’t really in it anymore, but curiosity, and a need to clear the uneasy tension in the car, made him ask. “So. We never went back there. When did you...hook up?”
Sam couldn’t help but smile a little. Dean was still Dean. “After the big fight with Dad. When I left, it was too early to go to school, so I went to Idaho and hung out at her place for a couple months. And, you know. Things happened.”
“Huh.” For once, Dean was satisfied not knowing all the intimate details. It was enough to know Sam hadn’t been alone; that he’d had someone who cared enough to take him in. So to speak. In a way, he wished he could thank her.
They passed a sign declaring Boise was a mere 257 miles to their left. Dean took the exit and headed the Impala north.
Sam frowned, puzzled. “Dean, Colorado’s not north of here. Where are we going?”
“Idaho.”
Author: zanne68
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1142
Disclaimers: I don't own, or claim to own, the Winchesters or the Winchester Universe.
Author's Note: Early Season One, between the pilot and Wendigo. It's a long drive and Dean is bored. But reacquainting with his brother has its surprises.
The tape player finally crapped out somewhere in the middle of Nevada. Dean only just managed to save his favorite AC/DC cassette from being chewed to a twisted mess of magnetic tape. He couldn’t even manage to swear at the thing-he’d known for the last two weeks that it was acting up and close to meeting its mechanical maker. Instead, he sighed heavily as he tossed the tape in his box. And he just knew Sam was rolling his eyes and trying not to grin as he pretended to study the empty flatlands rolling by. Damn, this drive was going to be longer than ever now. Maybe he could have a little fun, though.
“So. Conversation, then, huh?”
Sam turned to give him a puzzled look and a half-smile. “I guess.”
Dean’s smirk took a wicked twist. “Who was your first?”
“What?”
“You know. Your first encounter with a female of the naked persuasion.”
“Maybe conversation isn’t such a hot idea.” Sam was already turning a lovely shade of pink. Awesome.
“Aw, come on, Sammy. You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
“I already know yours, Dean. I walked in on the deed in progress, remember?”
“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. Sam had been twelve and only just starting to notice girls. He hadn’t been able to look Dean in the eye for a month.
“So, who was she?”
“It’s personal, Dean.”
“You had a real thing for that brunette in that play when you were a senior. What was her name...Amy, Amanda...”
“Andrea,” Sam corrected. “And no, it wasn’t her.” His jaw tensed, and he folded his arms across his chest, hoping his brother would get the message.
Dean got it loud and clear, all right, but he was just getting warmed up. “What about that lab partner you had? She had the hots for you big time. Used to drive by the house a dozen times every weekend.”
“No, it wasn’t Kelly, either. Drop it, Dean.” His warning tone went completely ignored.
“So no action in high school. Man, that’s sad. I bet it was Jess, then.”
“Dean...”
“No? Really? Hmmm. Had to be before that, then. After graduation...”
“Why don’t we stop and get something to eat? I’m hungry.”
“Oh no, Sammy, you’re not gonna distract me that easily.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. Dean grinned.
“You didn’t pick up some random chick on the bus to Stanford, did you? ‘Cause man, that’s just asking for trouble.”
“God, Dean, no, I didn’t pick up some random chick on the bus to Stanford! I’m going to sleep.” He slouched down into his seat, laid his head against the door, and closed his eyes. For a minute or two, Dean’s silence gave him hope his brother had given up his line of questioning. But then there was a backhanded thwap to his shoulder and a cry of triumph from the driver’s seat.
“Got it! That last hunt before you left, the family had a daughter...Brenda, I think? She was awfully glad to see you blast that poltergeist in her bedroom...”
“It was Meredith, all right?” Sam finally blurted out in frustration. “Will you drop it now, please.” It wasn’t a request. But it figured that giving Dean the answer he wanted only led to other questions.
“Meredith?” Dean’s attention wandered away from the straight, flat, empty road as he tried to recall this particular girl. “Who’s Meredith?”
“Dean, eyes on the road!” They didn’t have time to see what the four-legged wildlife was as it toddled onto the highway, and Dean very nearly ended its daily constitutional by printing Goodyear across its back. Sam glanced in the side mirror in time to see it scurry back into the sandy brush, probably to have a minor heart attack.
“Who’s Meredith?” Dean repeated, now solidly on a new track.
Sam leaned his elbow out the window and rubbed at his forehead, surrendering the information to Dean’s persistence. Eyes closed, he sighed. “Remember when we were living in Idaho in ’89?”
“Uh, yeah. I think. Dad took care of a haunted cabin way out in the boonies. Some nasty spirit killed an entire family. Wait, there was one survivor, girl about fifteen, sixteen.”
“And Dad had her stay with us while he hunted the thing down.”
“Yeah, I remember. I was pissed ‘cause he left us with a freakin’ babysitter. A freaked out babysitter.”
“That’s Meredith.”
Ten seconds of silence followed as Dean processed this. Then his eyes popped wide in shock. “Dude, she was your first? You were six! That’s just wrong in so many ways.” He was horrified. His baby brother shouldn’t have been hooking up in first grade. “Wait, she didn’t...”
“No, Dean. God. Your imagination gets out of control sometimes, you know that?” To keep from rolling his eyes completely out of the car, he went back to watching the scenery.
“SO???”
“I wrote to her once in a while over the years. You helped me the first few times.”
Utterly relieved, Dean went back to smirking as another memory came back to him. “I gave you a lot of crap about being sweet on the babysitter, didn’t I?”
“Which is why I started writing at school. All my teachers thought it was nice that I had a pen pal.” Now that he was in the middle of the story, fond memories flooded back, and he talked more easily. “I wrote to her whenever we moved, and she’d send her letters to whatever school I was at. Usually it was just around my birthday and Christmas, but I wrote about every other month.”
“Dude, we didn’t move that often.”
“She convinced me not to run off when I was fourteen.” He’d never told anyone that before. Dean’s eyes were boring holes through him, he could feel it. “Dean. Road.”
Five more miles passed before Dean cleared his throat. His heart wasn’t really in it anymore, but curiosity, and a need to clear the uneasy tension in the car, made him ask. “So. We never went back there. When did you...hook up?”
Sam couldn’t help but smile a little. Dean was still Dean. “After the big fight with Dad. When I left, it was too early to go to school, so I went to Idaho and hung out at her place for a couple months. And, you know. Things happened.”
“Huh.” For once, Dean was satisfied not knowing all the intimate details. It was enough to know Sam hadn’t been alone; that he’d had someone who cared enough to take him in. So to speak. In a way, he wished he could thank her.
They passed a sign declaring Boise was a mere 257 miles to their left. Dean took the exit and headed the Impala north.
Sam frowned, puzzled. “Dean, Colorado’s not north of here. Where are we going?”
“Idaho.”