| The Other Son: Chapter Seven |
[Jun. 13th, 2007|02:52 pm] |
I'm not exactly happy with this chapter, and there's definitely more that I expected to be included in it, but it ended itself here, so it's a wee bit shorter than the previous few chapters. Please review, it keeps my muse happy and interested!! And also, they make me incredibly happy! Also ... the city name, completely made-up. If it actually resembles a city that does exist, then my apologies, because I just made it up.
Title: The Other Son
Author: ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) revenant_scribe
Chapter Seven: CANNONBALL
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings: wincest, semi-spoilers for 1.18 'Something Wicked'.
Status: Ongoing
A/N: AU. This is difficult to summarize fully without also spoiling fully. All I can say is that there is no new Winchester being added into the mix. This is definitely not one of those fics.
Summary: Sam knows there are a lot of things about his father that he will never understand, or agree with -- the first and foremost being why John Winchester is so unnerved by his son's visions. It's why Sam goes alone to Fitchburg when images of the town's 'welcome' sign flash through his head while he's driving and leave him reeling for hours after. He's only looking for a hunt, but what he finds is about to turn Sam's entire world upside-down, and threaten its very foundations.
Previous Posts: 01. FREAK, 02. SHTRIGA, 03. DEAN, 04. HUNT, 05. AFTERMATH, 06. NEST
Fitchburg hadn’t changed in the four days that he’d been away from it. Sam’s first stop had been the Wyvern, but it was a Sunday and also the middle of the day and the place had been closed. He hadn’t been sure where to find Dean but he checked Rosemary’s and even ran by Burt’s, but the deli had been closed and Sophia hadn’t been on shift at the Diner – Rosemary hadn’t known where to find either of them.
Sam knew – or thought he might know – the next logical place to look. Sam did know where Dean lived, but he wasn’t so sure about showing-up on the man’s doorstep. Still, he didn’t want to wait. Dean had become a question mark looming in Sam’s head; Sophia hadn’t been very helpful, and their parting hadn’t inspired confidence. There really wasn’t much of a decision to be made.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting as he stood on the doorstep of the familiar blue house. The screen-door was closed but the main door was open, allowing Sam to see down the hallway that connected the main entranceway to the kitchen and the living room. Sam pressed the doorbell – listening as a light-hearted chime rang-out.
The man that came to the door, however, was not Dean. He was tall, a few inches taller than Sam himself, and though his hair was greying at his temples it served only to make him look distinguished. He wore black-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his eyes were warm and brown. There were wrinkles framing the man’s eyes and lips – the kind that came from smiling. “Sam?” he asked with a pinched brow as he peered out from the other side of the screen.
“Sir?” Sam asked, because as far as he knew, he’d never seen this man before.
The man only grinned, however, and pushed the screen door open. “Well, come in, then. Been expecting you, young man.” Sam was more than a little overwhelmed as he stepped inside. “My name is Paul,” the man offered, stretching his hand forward.
“You said you were expecting me?”
“I didn’t believe Dean when he said on the way out that a ‘Sam’ might be stopping by later. But that shows me, right? He’s always been saying things like that and I never believe them, and he always proves me wrong. You’d think I’d learn,” Paul said with a smile.
“I’m sorry to just drop-in like this.”
“No, not at all,” Paul dismissed. “It’s nice to have a visitor. We don’t have many of those here.” Paul’s good-humour seemed to drift away from him, and he looked sombre for a moment before he shook his head and his good-humour returned. “Dean said for me to tell you that you’re drink’s on the table.”
“My drink?” Paul led him into the dining area where a large hardwood table was sitting polished and glowing in the sunlight pouring in from the windows. On top of the table was a glass. “Go ahead.” Sam stepped forward and picked it up, recalling the drink Dean had denied him the last time they’d seen each other. “I’d say a prayer first, if I were you,” Paul said when Sam went to raise the glass to his lips. “If that’s what I think it is.”
Sam glanced down at the glass in his hand, took a bracing breath and knocked it back. It burned like he’d swallowed fire, it made his eyes sting and water and his world was spinning, he felt instantly tipsy – and he had a fairly good alcohol tolerance. To finish it all nicely, when Sam opened his mouth to suck in a breath, there was a sweet – almost mocking – aftertaste that took the burn away. “Holy shit,” Sam gagged, and then covered his mouth because he’d just sworn in front of Dean’s father for god’s sake!
Paul laughed long and hard, a sort of carefree sound that had Sam relaxing despite the odd situation. “Had a bit of a fight, did you?”
“How did you…?
Paul shook his head and sighed. “Who do you think gets to try most of his concoctions? Sophia isn’t around all the time,” Paul answered ruefully. “I thought it looked a bit like his Cannonball, but I wasn’t sure.” Sam staggered slightly and Paul gestured him into the sitting room. “Come sit down, son. Dean should be back soon.”
“Where is Dean?”
They settled into the living room chairs, Paul dropping into the love-seat and glancing over at the clock– the gesture seemed like second-nature, as if Paul were used to waiting for his son to return. “He and Sophia are over with Sean – Bill’s kid. He’s a little hellion most days, but between the two of them, they turn him into an angel.”
“I didn’t know Dean helped Sophia baby-sit.”
“He doesn’t,” Paul said with a wry smile. “He’s not big on kids.” Paul winked, and Sam smiled a little, knowing just how well Dean got along with children – it was the adults he had trouble with. But just as quickly, Paul’s sombre expression was back. “He doesn’t get a chance to help-out so much. Some parents, you know?” Paul shook his head and Sam immediately understood – some parents didn’t appreciate having a freak being around their kid.
Paul – it turned out – was a retired biology professor who had come to Fitchburg with his family. His wife had passed-on not so many years ago and nothing had been the same since that time. One thing was absolutely clear just from talking with the man, and that was how much he cared for his son. It made Sam happy to see that at least there was something solid for Dean to rely on – more than a pushy and protective best friend; Dean had a father that really loved him. It was a bit different from the image he’d conjured in his head when Dean had mentioned that his father liked to pretend his visions were simply seizures. At the very least, John could acknowledge Sam’s visions for what they were, and even if he was genuinely scared of them he never once denied them. It had made Sam discount Dean’s father somewhat to hear – but a science professor would understandably want to stay with what was logical, and even if he couldn’t fully accept his son, he was one hundred percent supportive of him.
“Dad?” a voice called, and Sam sat-up in his chair a little.
“In here, Dean,” Paul responded.
Dean came through the door, carrying groceries with Sophia trailing behind. “I’ve got stuff for dinner.” They deposited the bags onto the island that separated the kitchen from the sitting area and Sam twisted so he could watch Dean and Sophia working to unload the groceries they’d purchased.
“Are you going to acknowledge your guest?” Paul said, his tone scolding when it seemed entirely apparent that Sam was going unnoticed.
“Hello, Sam,” Dean said without turning around.
“He quite enjoyed your drink,” Paul added. That seemed to restore Dean’s good humour because he glanced up sheepishly at Sam, with mischief clear in his eyes. “Leave the groceries, Dean. Come take-over here. I have to lie down for a bit. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sam.” Paul offered a hand that Sam shook before he headed towards the hall, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezing it and nodding at Sophia before exiting.
“He seems like a really great man,” Sam said once Paul had left.
Dean nodded his head, stuffing a clear-plastic bag of plums into the fridge. “You came back,” Dean pointed out casually.
“You seem to have been expecting me.”
Sophia glanced back-and-forth between them before she put down the orange juice carton she’d been hefting and stepped back. “Okay, awkward,” she said. “I’m gonna head out. Call me?” she asked of Dean, who nodded casually without taking his eyes off of Sam. “Bye Sam. Glad to have you back,” she said. She gave Dean a half-hug before she left them as well.
“Can I help?” Sam asked as Dean continued to unload the groceries.
“I’m good, thanks.”
Sam rolled his eyes and crossed into the kitchen area, grabbing-up the orange juice Sophia had left and heading towards the fridge. “Dean …”
“I know, okay?” Dean said. “I already know. – Are we gonna have to talk about this?”
“Don’t you think that would help?”
“No, I really don’t. I get it.”
“Well, if you get it, then what are we fighting about?”
“We’re not fighting. We’re cool,” Dean said, and then he slammed the fridge door. Sam could hear the contents jostling and raised a doubtful eyebrow that Dean ignored. “I’ve got to start dinner.”
“It’s the afternoon.”
“Well, then lunch.”
“Your dad is sleeping.”
“I’m hungry.”
“I’ll take you out. Lunch on me.”
“You’re not buying my forgiveness.”
“So you admit that you’re angry at me,” Sam said, leaning forward a bit so he could see Dean’s eyes.
“Shut up.” Sam was on new ground. He’d never had a lover, and thus had never experienced a lover’s quarrel. He wasn’t even certain he knew what Dean was really pissed about, since the man claimed to understand that Sam had to leave. All he had to go on were his instincts. Sam pushed away from the counter, grasping Dean by the elbow and stopping the man’s nervous unpacking of groceries, before bringing him close against his chest. “What are you doing?” Dean asked warily.
“Just stay still for a second.” Dean fidgeted and then let out a defeated sigh, dropping his forehead against Sam’s sternum, Sam’s arms around his waist holding him loosely. It felt good to be back with Dean, breathing in his scent – old spice and thyme -- and feeling his warmth. He wasn’t exactly sure what this was accomplishing except that Dean was pressed against him and calm, and that seemed like an improvement from the restless movements, held back by Dean’s defences. “Now tell me,” Sam found himself asking after they’d stood like that for a while.
“What exactly do you want, Sam?” Dean didn’t look-up, he kept his head bowed and stayed completely still. Sam cupped the back of Dean’s head, kissed his hair and let his lips rest against the other’s head. The closeness made Sam suddenly aware of what he’d unconsciously been doing – Dean’s defences were up, exactly as Sophia had warned about – but Sam had side-stepped them cleanly because he’d brought Dean close and just let him feel – let him see for himself, with his own powers, exactly how Sam was feeling about finally being back in Fitchburg, in Dean’s house with Dean. After having met the man’s father.
“I want to take you out for lunch.”
“Okay,” Dean said, pushing backward almost reluctantly. He called-up the stairs that they were going-out and received a vague acknowledgement from Paul, and Dean shut the door as they stepped out.
Sam followed him down the pathway towards where the impala was parked and almost didn’t notice as Dean’s steps slowed until they came to a complete halt. “What is it?” He looked up and down the street, wondered if maybe Dean was having a vision.
“Damn.”
“Oh.” Sam grinned as Dean stepped forward and almost reverently ran a hand across the impala’s side, walking slowly in a circle around her, his admiration apparent. “You maybe want to drive her?”
There was a light in Dean’s eyes as he answered, “Hell yeah!” and caught the keys midair as Sam tossed them. Though usually protective of the car that his father had passed-down to him, Sam relaxed into the drive, comfortable in the fact that Dean clearly knew a thing or two about cars and certainly how to drive them well was one of those things. He pretended not to notice that they took a roundabout route through town before ending-up outside of Rosemary’s.
“Dean!” Rosemary greeted, giving the boy a warm hug that almost asphyxiated him.
“Hey, Rose. Sam and I are just stopping in for lunch.”
“Find yourselves a booth.” It was a hint, and Sam wasn’t exactly certain if she meant it cruelly or not – though the greeting that she had for Dean would suggest she wasn’t cruel at all. The diner was relatively small and made the best use of its space by having tables and chairs near the front of the diner, and booths at the back. Dean didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed by the comment and seemed as if he’d been heading to the back anyway. He wondered if that was the kind of relationship that Dean was used to – qualified friendliness – where people were genuinely happy to see if so long as you stuck to the background and didn’t cause a scene. Burt had identified Dean easily as being a good, if misunderstood person – but even he hadn’t been keen on making fast friends with him.
They slid into a booth at the very back of the diner, and when Sam went to pick-up the menu, Dean cleanly snatched it from his fingers. “Hey!”
“You don’t need it, Man. Trust me.” Whatever tension had been there earlier had definitely drained from Dean, and he was leaning across the table with bright eyes and a crooked smile that had Sam immediately swallowing around a lump in his throat. Their moment was interrupted by Rosemary setting two large chocolate milkshakes down onto the table, grinning broadly before she moved away, Sam thought the woman had horrible timing, but forgave her when he tried the milkshake.
“You come here a lot, I take it?”
“Naw, this is my first time,” Dean retorted.
“You seem to know her really well.”
“I do. I used to work here, remember? She’s been keeping me outta trouble since I was kid.”
“Why the booth?” Sam asked.
Dean looked as if he wasn’t exactly sure if Sam were serious, then he sat back a little and gestured with his head to the short hall they were seated besides. “Bathroom’s back there and also, the door to the back-alley. If I can avoid it, I don’t like having visions in a crowd.” He tilted his head a little like he wasn’t too keen to reveal the next bit. “Also, if trouble comes walking through the front, I can get out the back while Rosemary chases people around with her broom.” He nodded to the large broom that was propped somewhat oddly by the front till.
“You have a whole system worked-out.”
“Had to. Live in a town long-enough and you learn its quirks, and also, how to get around them.” Rosemary returned, this time bearing two large plates of fries and a burger roughly the Sam’s entire hand, one plate also had ten fat red strawberries on it; she set that plate in front of Dean. “Thanks, Rose.”
“You be good, Boy,” she said, waggling a finger at him. She pinched Sam’s cheek just the way she’d done when he’d been there last, and then bustled off again.
They were Dean had finished his burgers and was picking at his fries when he quirked his eyebrow at Sam. “If you’re gonna ask me, ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“I dunno,” Dean shrugged. “But you’ve been sitting there stewing about something and it’s really distracting.”
Sam sighed. “I’m figuring that I’m just gonna forget it. It’s maybe too soon.”
“What’s too soon?”
“What I was gonna ask you about.”
“You were gonna ask me to go steady?” he batted his eyes and leaned forward a bit. “Hold hands? Move-in together? Have sex? Because I gotta tell you, Sammy …”
It was hearing the teasing comments as much as the name that had Sam blurting, “How do you feel about a road trip?”
Which of course completely de-railed Dean who sat back in the booth. “How do you mean?”
“There’s a rawhead – Well, I think it’s a rawhead – over in Faircrest , Illinois. It’s a couple of hours drive – and just you and me and the road.”
“You’re asking me on a hunt?” Dean licked his lips and shook his head. “Sam. I only know how to handle a gun.”
“That’s fine. That’s perfect. See, if it’s a rawhead you kill it with electricity. The tazers I’ve got handle pretty much like a gun – point and shoot.”
“Road trip, huh?” Sam tried to contain his grin because, for once, things were working-out. The thought drifted through his head as he watched Dean slyly steal a French fry from his plate, “This is good,” he thought. “I can do this.”
………………………………
They stopped back at Dean’s house long enough for the man to stuff some essentials into his bag and tell his dad that he was heading out of town for a bit. Paul made a bit of a fuss about how the bar would ever survive without its bartender, which Sam thought might be on its way to becoming a fight – because if were he and John, that would be the cue for a yelling match – but Dean only laughed and rolled his eyes, promising that he’d be safe and of course Sophia would fill-in for him.
“It’s all arranged,” Dean said with such certainty that Sam wondered if Dean had used some kind of telepathy to notify his friend, because as far as he knew this was entirely spur of the moment (which he felt a bit bad for, because he’d entirely forgotten that Dean worked). “I’ll be back soon, and I’ll call.”
“You’re an adult,” Paul said casually. “I trust that you know what you’re doing.” Again, that was more than John had ever said to Sam.
“So …” Sam said after they’d stuffed Dean’s bag into the trunk beside Sam’s and were on the road.
“Hold on,” Dean said, pulling his cell from his pocket and selecting a number. He waited only a moment before he was rolling his eyes. “That’s because you checked the caller ID,” he said. “I’m calling in a favour.” There was a moment of silence. “Actually, you owe me about six official favours and five chocolate shakes.” Another pause. “I need you to pick-up my shift at the bar … what do you mean, ‘why’? Because I won’t be there.” Dean winced and held the phone away from his ear, Sam laughed a little because he could clearly hear Sophia firing-off questions loudly about where they were going to elope and why couldn’t she come? “I’m going to Illinois with Sam, you skank, we’re not eloping,” Dean said. “No way am I converting my chocolate shakes into favours! That’s highway robbery. … the whole point of cashing-in on a favour is that you owe me one favour less, they’re not bartering chips! And you can’t make me owe you for calling it in!” There was another pause and Dean grumbled a little, and pouted. “Probably a week,” he admitted glumly. “Okay, so it’s equivalent to two favours … well, you’ll be picking-up my pay check so you should be happy! ... Cancel your babysitting, you hate those kids anyway.” He rolled his eyes. “Two favours and I’ll talk to Mark … no, the time before that I threatened to roll him down the hill in the garbage can…”
“What?” Sam mouthed.
Dean shook his head and mouthed back that Sam didn’t want to know before speaking into the phone again. “Tell me again why I’m your friend? … oh yeah, I keep forgetting that. Okay, then. Deal. Bye, Soph.” He flipped the phone closed and put it back in his pocket. “She’s evil.”
“Who did you stuff in a garbage can?”
“No one. It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got the time,” Sam reminded.
“Not now,” Dean quipped, “I have a headache. You got any music?” Sam pushed-in the Dave Matthews tape he’d found in an old music shop in Topeka. Dean actually cringed where he was sitting. “Man! This is like, sacrilege or something! Tell me you have something else.”
“My dad’s old tapes are under the seat,” Sam reluctantly told the man. “But it’s old stuff. Like, the greatest hits of mullet rock collected in a crappy cardboard box.”
“Perfect!” Dean announced as he pulled the box free and noticed the Metallica tape lying on top. It was Sam’s guilty secret that even if he bitched about the music, he did listen to it on occasion. There were a lot of tapes in that box, and each song on each tape had a memory attached to it. “Yech,” Dean said as he held the Dave Matthews tape between two fingers as if it might be diseased and tossed it in the back seat.
“Hey!”
“You can get it later.” He pushed the new tape into the player and breathed a sigh of relief. “This is officially a road trip.”
“Actually, it’s still a hunt.”
“Hey, I haven’t been out of Fitchburg – this is a road trip!” Sam had absolutely no wish to argue, he already had exactly what he wanted.
On to Chapter Eight...
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