Finding Home (8/?)

[nightspear]

Title: Finding Home (Main Post and Chapter List)

Rating: PG-13/R for language, mostly

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. I gain nothing of materialistic value from this.

Pairings: Mostly gen.

Notes:

I want to mention that this story is primarily an exploration—of the Winchesters’ relationships with each other and with the rest of the world; of the way people change and develop and respond, especially when I mess with the order of canon events; of the world around our two boys; and of that odd little society of people we refer to as “hunters.” That’s not to say there’s no plot—I’ve definitely got stuff up my sleeve. Just please keep in mind that some chapters are inevitably going to be more action-packed while others are paced more slowly.

That’s it—I had particularly fun with the Sam-Dean exchanges in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy them, too!

Chapter 7

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“I don’t know... It just feels like something’s starting.”

(“Home”)

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“Will you stop that?”

“What?”

Sam huffed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“You’re gonna crash the car if you don’t pay attention.”

“I know how to drive, Sammy.”

“Just...watch the road.”

“Yeah, and you just keep your skirt on.”

Dean lasted a whole two minutes. He turned his head furtively to see Sam staring out the passenger side window.

He jumped when Sam whipped back around to catch him. “Dude—enough!”

“What the hell—you’re like an animal lying in wait.”

“What’s your problem?”

(“...I would have gone mad...”)

“Nothin’,” Dean lied, berating himself when he involuntarily glanced over again.

“Dean!”

“Sammy!” he mocked.

“I swear, man, I’m going insane here.”

“You’re not gonna go insane.” As soon as the words were out, he realized they were the wrong ones.

Sam was the one staring now. “That’s what this is? You think I’ve lost it.”

“I said you’re not fucking insane, Sam.” Determinedly keeping his gaze fixed on the bumper of the car in front of him, he commented, “You look tired, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day. A long week. Or weeks. I don’t even know anymore.” He didn’t close his eyes, though, or stretch out the way he did whenever he slept sitting in the car.

It didn’t take long before Dean felt restless in the silence; usually he’d have some music blasting. He left it quiet now, because he’d decided to try being a little more sensitive to Sam for now. And because he’d left his tapes in Dad’s truck, so, you know.

“You okay?” he asked reluctantly.

“Fine.”

Hey, he’d tried.

It might be painfully obvious that Sam wasn’t anywhere near fine about any of this, but it wasn’t Dean’s business to push it. Not yet, anyway. Besides, there were more urgent matters to think about.

“So what was that about, back there?” he asked.

Sam scowled. “What Jess and I say to each other is personal, Dean.”

“That’s not what I meant, smartass. I don’t need to hear the details of my little brother’s love life.”

“That’s never stopped you before from harassing me about every girl I went out with.”

Dean smirked. “True. But hey, it’s not like I didn’t pass on my experience to you.”

Sam looked disgusted. “In more detail than I ever wanted. You scarred me for life.”

“Ah, lighten up. I didn’t scar you for life. And anyway, chicks dig scars. It got you laid with, what’s her name, Alice something, didn’t it?”

“Allison Bayer,” he corrected with an eye roll, though his lips were twitching. “And I met her when she was volunteering at the nurse’s office. The gym teacher sent me there because the stitches in my arm ripped open.”

“I remember that. That was when you tried to fly out of a tree.”

“I wasn’t trying to fl—you snuck up behind me and screamed in my ear, you ass.”

Oh yeah. Whoops. Dean couldn’t hold back a chuckle, though. “That was awesome. You shoulda seen your face.”

It wasn’t until Sam laughed with him—really, actually laughed—that Dean realized how much he’d missed it.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch.”

How much he’d missed this.

He hated having to ruin the moment. Sam, though, control freak that he was, took the matter out of his hands entirely. He cleared his throat, ducking his head. “So. Back there. The demon.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, that about sums it up. Articulate, aren’t you?” When Sam didn’t elaborate, he prodded, “There was something you didn’t want to say in front of your...in front of Jessica.”

Sam nodded slowly. “It was too easy.”

“You weren’t the one glued to a friggin’ wall,” Dean pointed out. “But, yeah, okay,” he conceded. “Were you serious about the wards around the room?”

“I have—had—protective runes on all four walls, if that’s what you’re asking. They probably helped, weakened it a little. But if it could get in despite all of that and still have enough power for that pyrotechnics display...”

“It could’ve done a lot more,” Dean finished grimly.

“Exactly. And the way it all ended... Honestly, I think the fire was basically out by the time the fire department got there. I mean, the way demons mess with electronics...”

“The sprinklers wouldn’t even have started,” Dean guessed. “Or the alarms. It was a half-assed effort, and it was already completely gone by the time we got out.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel in thought. “We’re sure it’s the demon? I mean, the demon?”

“It knew my name, Dean. It was waiting for me.” Dean couldn’t be sure if the strain in Sam’s voice was hiding fear or something else. “And it was like I’d felt it before. Like the dreams I used to have about the night Mom died. I don’t know, I can’t explain it.”

He didn’t have to. Dean knew the feeling. “So, it came and then just...went away.”

“Yeah. On its own, apparently.”

“Then the question is: why?” Sam’s white-knuckled grip on the edge of his eat confirmed what Dean had suspected. “You know something else, don’t you. What else did it say to you?”

“You didn’t hear?’’

“I was a little distracted by a falling dresser, which, by the way, was a pathetic example of the quality of Stanford furniture considering how much people pay to go there—”

“Saved your ass.”

“I’ll express my gratitude to it later, if you don’t mind. Now stop stalling.”

Sam sighed. “Not yet. Not ready.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass whether or not you think you’re ready—”

“No, that’s what it said,” Sam interrupted. “It said... ‘Not yet. Not ready.’”

Huh.

Dean didn’t notice pressing harder on the gas pedal until Sam said, “If you go any faster you might get airborne.”

He forced himself to relax and retorted, “If you squeeze the leather any harder you’ll rip the upholstery.” Sam started and guiltily opened his hands.

Something was bothering Dean. Well, okay, a lot was bothering him.

“Why didn’t you tell us before that you were having visions?” he asked, rolling the word around his on tongue. Visions...Nah, that didn’t sound crazy at all.

“It only happened once.”

“Hey, you know, that’s funny. You say that like you think it’s a valid fucking excuse.”

“It just never came up. I thought it wasn’t important.”

“That’s crap, Sam. You have a dream about a shapeshifter and then happen kill one the next day, how is that ‘not important’ in any way? ‘Never came up,’ ” he scoffed. “Don’t try to tell me it slipped your mind.”

Sam still wasn’t looking at him, but the defenses came up. “Well, Dad wasn’t exactly interested in hearing it.”

“Yeah, I think he would’ve been pretty fucking interested in...”

“I tried to tell him, Dean! Hell, he was the one who kept cutting me off, saying I was confused and didn’t know what holy water in action looked like!”

“That was because you should know better than to listen to the monsters we fight.”

“Will you listen to me for a second?” Sam burst out in frustration. “I don’t think it was lying at all! Everything it told me—it’s all been true so far. I mean, the stuff about Dad and...and you—” Here, Sam looked away again— “I know it was just trying to dig up dirt, and it wasn’t anything I didn’t know. But about Mom? And the demon? That’s all panned out, hasn’t it?”

Dean nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, it did. Dad’s been talking to Bobby, Caleb, Jim, some guy named Isaac...everyone who knows anything about demons. He...uh, he hasn’t said much to me, but...it’s definitely a demon. Sure looked like one in your room back there.” He paused. “You tryin’ to change the subject, here?”

“No, no. The shapeshifter talked about visions, too. It knew...” Sam grimaced. “I didn’t even make the connection until it mentioned dreams. That was how I managed to kill it—it reminded me of the dream I had. Dean...” Sam swallowed, looking at him sideways with his eyes half hidden under his hair.

“What?”

“The shifter said...that the demon’s been watching me. That Mom died that night because it was coming for me. And with these visions now... It’s not natural.”

“Sam...”

“No, Dean, you know better than anyone—you spend your life killing the supernatural.” Dean’s turned to glare at Sam’s tone. As if Dean would ever hunt his own brother.

“You trying to imply something here?”

“Just that you were right. It’s some freaky... I don’t know what. But what if it’s worse than that? What if the demon knows there’s something wrong with me, and that’s why Mom...”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Sam! Just...just hold on a minute, here. We don’t even know what this is. The shapeshifter was working with for the demon, somehow, fine. It doesn’t mean your frea—your visions are connected. Maybe—maybe—it wasn’t lying. Doesn’t mean we should trust it.” He remembered something else. “So the holy water—you think that was because of demonic influence? You said the water worked on it.”

Sam shifted. “It works on me, too. What if...”

Dean almost drove the car off the road. “Christo,” he said, and his brother’s face settled into the pissed off, exasperated one he saved just for Dean. “See?”

“I know I’m not possessed, moron. But I’ve been thinking...I can tell the difference between normal water and water that’s been blessed—it feels different to me. I didn’t even realize before what it might mean, but...”

Dean hadn’t either, until just then, but it wouldn’t do any good to say it. “It doesn’t mean anything. You’ve got that whole ESP thing going on now—”

“It’s not ESP, Dean, there’s a difference between—”

“Yeah, yeah, Professor. The point is, maybe you’re more...sensitive to stuff like this.” He dragged out a smirk. “You’ve always been the sensitive one, Samantha.”

“Screw you.” A moment later, he added, “You really think so?”

Fuck if I know.

“’Course I do.” Sam still looked uncertain. “Come on, Sam. These visions...so far they’ve all been good.”

“Excuse me?” His voice rose. “You think it’s good watching—”

“Jesus, untwist your panties, will you? ‘Good’ as in it’s saved people.”

“...Yeah. I guess so.”

Mostly joking but a little apprehensive of the answer, he asked, “So it’s just visions, right? Anything else you wanna tell me?”

Sam turned, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I know how much you love surprises.”

Not an answer, but enough for Dean. Sam was good at evasion, but he was crap at making jokes to hide behind.

Sam yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand in a way that reminded Dean of how he’d looked as a grumpy eight-year-old. Which was a little ridiculous and a lot hilarious in a guy who was well over six feet.

“Come on, Sleepy. Naptime.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Seriously, you look like shit.”

“Nice.”

“Fine, suit yourself.”

Sam wasn’t done yet—Dean could see it in the way he looked up once in a while, taking a breath and then saying nothing. “What?” he finally asked.

“Where’s Dad?” Sam bit his lip. “I know he didn’t come with you. I...I think I remember a dream about him, but I’m not even sure anymore whether it was a dream or a...” He waved his hand vaguely. “You said he told you about Joshua, though, right? So you’ve talked to him?”

“I called him,” Dean said. Sam waited. “He was at Joshua’s; he told Josh to call me.”

Sam looked suspicious now. “Wait, you didn’t actually talk to Dad?”

“Josh is a friend. And he had the password.”

“The password...” Sam’s eyebrows lifted high. “The ‘no fire’ password?”

“That’s the one.” Dean wasn’t even going to try to ignore the irony in that now.

“But...why weren’t you with him, then?” He frowned. “And, wait a minute...if we’re...what’s he even driving?”

Dean felt his eyes light up in genuine joy. “Ah, Sammy. The Impala’s all mine now. Dad gave her to me.” Sam’s mouth fell open. “Catching flies?”

He snapped his mouth shut. “So Dad’s...oh. He’s driving that truck Bobby’s been trying to get rid of?”

“Yep. He finally got it fixed up.” He looked over to see Sam fingering the dash, a tiny smile playing over his lips. “You know you love her. He loves you, baby,” he reassured the car.

Sam huffed in amusement. “I’m a little disturbed by the depth of your attachment.” Then he sobered. “Was Dad hunting alone?”

Dean glanced at him. “Yeah, we were on separate hunts.”

“He let you hunt alone?”

Dean gave him an insulted look. “Dude. I’m twenty-three. So anyway... You seriously don’t remember this?”

“Should I? Oh, wait, I think I remember you telling me about it.” Dean frowned, knowing full well he’d done no such thing. “About the guy who suffocated in his car, right? And his brother getting decapitated by a falling window.”

Holy crap. And just...holy freaking crap.

“Wh—no, Sam, I’ve never—what the fuck, man? Where are you even getting that?”

“Uh,” came the uncertain answer. “I don’t know...I guess that must have been a dream, then.”

That was a pretty fucking detailed—and grisly­—dream, even for Sam. Seriously, a window? Who thought of shit like that?

“Um,” Dean managed.

“Well, then why’d you say I should remember about the hunt you were on?”

“Just something you said in the hospital. You had a vision about us, I think.”

Taken aback, looking more than a little disturbed, Sam only shook his head.

“Well, Dad got a tip from someone...”

“What kind of tip? From who?”

“I don’t know, Sam! He didn’t tell me. Sent me off to San Jose after a Black Dog.”

“There’s no Black Dog in San Jose.”

Sharply, Dean asked, “How’d you know that?” Maybe Sam did remember after all.

After a pause, Sam said slowly, “’Cause it’s San Jose. Come on, those spirits are ancient. And non-migratory. If there were a Black Dog haunting there, we’d have heard of sightings before now. Why?”

Dean shook his head, not sure if he’d ever been kept this off balance. “Never mind. And yeah, it was a false rumor. The only supernatural thing in that area was the Winchester Mystery House.”

“You realize that one’s a hoax, right?”

Dean sighed unhappily. “I know. I even swung by to check it out—how awesome would it have been for a Winchester to clear out the damn Winchester House?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. After the shapeshifter incident, that was one of the first haunted houses Jess asked me about.” He looked away, the partial smile dying away. “So Dad’s missing.”

The car hummed angrily under him. “It hasn’t been that long. Let’s not jump to conclusions yet.”

Sam nodded, but still pressed, “Why hasn’t he called? Have you tried again?”

“Yes, I fucking tried, Sam, while you were exchanging vows of undying love with your girlfriend. I don’t know, alright?” He knew that was a bit harsh when Sam flinched at the thought of the life he’d thrown away. The second life he’s thrown away—except he didn’t have a choice in this one. “Look, he must’ve seen Joshua sometime yesterday. Or today, I mean.” Talk about a long fucking day. “Let’s just...hold off on everything until we get a chance to talk to Josh. Get some shut-eye until then,” he suggested. Sam looked out the window and didn’t answer.

A few minutes passed before he tried again. “We’re still four hours away, dude. I promise I’ll wake you if I see any unicorns. I know how much you’ve always wanted to meet one.”

“Unicorns are attracted to the virginal and virtuous. I don’t think you’ll be seeing one.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I’m...not even sure how to respond to that. And I’m virtuous.” Sam only snorted in reply. “Sam, why are you being an ass about sleeping? You got something to prove?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because the last time I went to sleep, I woke up the hospital.”

Point. “You can’t stay awake forever. Besides, maybe it was just that one time. Maybe it’s over now.”

“It’s not over.” Sam hunched down further in the seat and wrapped a hand stiffly around the door handle. “I can still feel it...like it’s pushing at me. Like...like it’ll drown me if I let it, and something’s holding it back, but if it breaks again, the way it did before, Dean, I don’t know, man, I don’t...”

“Whoa, okay. I get it. It’s...I get it.” Sam’s hand was clenched tight on the car door, but Dean saw the faint tremors running through it. He wasn’t sure whether it was from fear or shock or exhaustion or even just the aftermath of an adrenaline rush. “But I’m not driving four hours with you sulking.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“Talk.”

The wary look was back in Sam’s face. “About what?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Anything. God. I’m bored.”

Sam finally curved the corners of his lips upward in a smirk. “Anything? Fine—you got it. So...”

When Dean realized that Sam was starting a whole fucking lecture about how to deal with vengeful spirits (and showing signs of transitioning to werewolves and other corporeal creatures), he cheerfully tuned out the drone and settled in for a long drive, carefully not thinking about what was going on with his little brother.

A while later, Sam broke off to say incredulously, “Dude. You’re humming Metallica?”

He shrugged, staring determinedly at the dark road. “Calms me down.”

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Chapter 9