![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Masquerading As A Man Of Reason - Part 3/4
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Dean,Sam (gen)
Words: 1,628
Disclaimer:, Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: Set after 2.01
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
First part here.
When Sam opened the passenger side door the next day and saw an intact version of the book lost to Dean’s round of guilt-pranks sitting on the seat, he reached in and snagged it and then looked at Dean. The older man looked at the book, at Sam and then away.
“Yeah, there was a bookstore in town,” he said, half-shrugging.
When Sam found a new bookmark wedged into the place he'd been up to, he wasn’t sure what to say.
000
The address Missouri gave him was two days away and Dean knew for the entire trip there would be a third passenger in the car if they didn’t talk about what was going on, in more than abstract terms.
Do you know what you’re doing, when you do it?
It was the question burning a place in Dean’s mind. He had opened his mouth a half dozen times to ask it in the first hour alone, but Sam was either looking out the window, looking through the old shoe box of tapes or staring at the roof of the car.
Dean felt like he needed eye contact, like an unspoken invitation to ask and Sam wasn’t obliging.
Five hours in and with his ass numb and shoulders aching, Dean pulled into a roadside diner with a faded roof that might have once been red but was now a burnt orange and a dozen motorcycles parked outside. He ordered a burger over the counter while Sam went to peruse the case of ancient sandwiches and when Sam came back with a defeated look, ordered a second.
“Just once I’d like the tuna salad not to look like it was made during the civil war,” Sam griped and Dean started, realising it was the first time he’d heard Sam’s voice since they’d headed out and being a little unsettled about it.
“Just what’s going on with you?” Dean blurted, as if Sam’s voice had unglued whatever had been stuck in his throat, not letting the words out. Sam’s jaw tightened, hands closing into fists by his sides.
“I’ll be in the car,” he gritted, turning on his heel and slamming back out the door.
When Dean emerged from the relative cool of the diner, Sam was sitting on the hood of the Impala, heels resting on the front grill. Dean handed over Sam’s burger silently and Sam accepted it, took a bite and chewed carefully before his eyes finally reached Dean’s. “You’ve never been one for tiptoeing around the delicate, Dean. How about you ask me what you really want to?”
Dean had moved to sit beside Sam, but he stopped and came back around to face him, tossing his burger in a trash can that leaned drunkenly to his left. His mouth was dry and the thought of the greasy meat suddenly turned his stomach.
“No, let me guess,” Sam held up a hand when Dean took a breath. “You know what’s going on, probably have done for weeks. You’ve let it slide because, I don’t know, you didn’t want to acknowledge it. We got a nicer motel room, free pie, won a hand of poker we shouldn’t have. Little things mostly.” Sam’s voice was brittle and suddenly Dean didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He was desperate not to hear it.
Something fundamental was about to change and although for some reason Missouri seemed to think so, Dean knew he wasn’t ready.
“You just want to know if I’ve done it to you,” Sam finished, tone going from brittle to hollow.
“Sam-“
“I’m not sure how you can… why you would think I would do that,” Sam said, sounding small and hurt, but his eyes had skipped away again. “You know I wouldn’t. We should just forget it,” Sam added, eyes coming up and that was when Dean felt it.
It was slight, gentle, like the beating of moth wings against a palm, but Dean felt it.
Dean hooked his arm back, instinct overriding everything else, and let fly, connecting solidly with Sam’s jaw and sending him sliding off the Impala. Sam hadn’t been expecting it and he was on his knees in the gravel of the parking lot before either man really knew what had happened. Dean felt something wet on his upper lip and he put his fingers to it, the tips coming away bloody. He leant over and looked in the rearview mirror of the Impala and saw a single, smeared line of red that had trickled out of his right nostril.
“Sam what the hell?” Dean demanded, moving back to his younger brother. Sam was still kneeling, hands up by his temples and fingers clenched in his hair, eyes wide.
“Oh god Dean, I didn’t… why did I… I didn’t mean to do that,” Sam said, voice ragged. Dean knelt down so he could pull Sam’s hands out of his hair before he yanked whole chunks free, pulling Sam forward and into his chest. Sam’s face was pale and shining, pupils blown wide.
“We’ll fix you, kiddo. We’ll find a way to fix this,” Dean murmured, holding himself still and with a hand resting on the back of Sam’s neck.
Not wanting Sam to know that for one brief moment, he’d been terrified.
000
There were cows and a couple of goats milling about the sedate little farmhouse they pulled up to. Dean would’ve thought he had the wrong place if he hadn’t seen a protection rune inscribed and almost hidden in a quirky little pattern on the letterbox out by the front gate of the property. He felt something nudge his mind, more soft fluttery moth wings but Sam was asleep, mouth open, in the passenger seat so Dean got out and stood in front of the Impala, hands held out.
“Missouri sent me,” he called into the twilight, his hackles rising with the feeling that a weapon was trained on him. Sure enough, a woman dressed in jeans and a red undershirt stepped out from the side of the house, rifle snugged into her shoulder.
Dean moved sideways when he noticed that the gun was trained on Sam, asleep in the car, and not him.
“Who are you?” the woman asked and Dean snorted, tapping his temple.
“Don’t you know already?”
A flash of annoyance crossed the woman’s face and Dean frowned when she said, “No.”
“Dean Winchester. The beanpole in the car is my brother Sam,” Dean said, reaching behind and through the car’s window to flick Sam in the ear. Sam came awake with a snort.
“Winchester huh? Yeah, I heard of you,” the woman said, still looking suspicious but the muzzle of her rifle had dipped lower.
“Dean!” Sam yelped, warning in his voice and Dean turned just in time to have something solid meet his temple.
As he went down, black washing everything, he thought, must be slipping, didn’t even hear…
000
When Dean came to, he felt a second of panic until he realised that there was a cold compress over his eyes and he wasn’t actually blind. He reached up and tugged it down, eyes skimming the room and finally coming to rest on Sam sitting on a threadbare-looking armchair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Sam asked, voice pitched low which Dean appreciated since he felt like his head was going to fall off.
“Bit of a headache,” Dean allowed. “What happened?”
“Apparently they have trust issues. There’s a kid here, Jason. He hit you.”
“Didn’t even here the little fucker comin’,” Dean grumbled but when Sam gave him a funny look, Dean glared at him. “What?”
“Jason was about ten feet away when he… hit you,” Sam said.
“Oh.” Dean sat up slowly, fingers exploring his head and finding tender skin just over his left eye, probably a hell of a bruise. “But wait, you yelled out. You tried to warn me.”
“I..” Sam looked down at his clasped fingers and then back up again. “I felt him kinda… ramping up to it. I felt him before I saw him.”
“Okay…” Dean drawled, raising his eyebrows. “Spooky.”
“What’s spookier is that Jenny says I actually blocked it. That Jason was trying to kill you.”
Dean had swung his feet to the floor but stilled. “Sorry, you’re going to have to catch me up. I’ve been sleeping,” Dean said, eyes automatically going to the archway of the living room when he heard feet on the stairs. A few moments later the woman who’d had a gun on them appeared, sans rifle this time.
“Oh hey, sorry about the bump on the head,” she said, tapping her own temple. Dean scowled at her tone, like he’d done something as simple as trip and get a boo-boo. She’d seemed to already have dismissed him however as her glance skipped to Sam. “You ready to get started?”
“Hang on just a goddam second,” Dean snapped, rising to his feet. “Ready for what?”
“Dean, don’t-“ Sam started, getting his own feet under him but Dean waved a dismissive hand at him.
“I’m glad you’re all so chummy already but someone tried to kill me with their freaky mental powers on our way in. I’m not too sure we’re going to be sticking around.”
“You don’t have to,” the woman, Dean had to assume was Jenny, said.
Dean and Sam both blinked at her. “What?” they said in unison.
“Sam,” Jenny stepped further into the room, her body language dismissing Dean again which made him bunch his hands into fists and lock his jaw. “We have a lot of work to do and your brother could be a distraction.” Her eyes slid to Dean as she said, “He should leave you here because we need you to be focused.”
“Look Lady, I’m not leaving Sam anywhere,” Dean growled, unconsciously moving between her and Sam, just like he had when she’d had a gun trained on him. For some reason, he got the same sensation of underlying threat.
“I really think it’s for the best if-“
“I’m not staying without Dean,” Sam interrupted, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s kinda annoying but we come as a set these days,” he added.
“Fine,” Jenny huffed. “I don’t have any spare beds though so he’s sleeping on the couch.”
When Jenny had turned and stalked from the room, Dean turned to Sam and said, “Dude, we are leaving.”
“No Dean, we can’t,” Sam sighed, dropping back into the armchair. Dean lowered to the couch.
“Why the hell not? She hates me. She’s gotta be evil.”
“Because I… pushed you… or tried to. You gotta believe me that I had never done that before.”
“I do Sammy,” Dean said automatically and was kinda surprised that he meant it.
“I don’t know, it was like a slip. I really wanted you to forget about it all and for everything to go back to normal and I was thinking that so hard that it kinda got away from me. Now I’m worried that it’s gotten away from me before and I haven’t noticed it. Jenny said that’s possible.”
“It must have only been a little slip, because it didn’t work on me,” Dean said, leaning forward to tap Sam’s knee but the younger man was frowning.
“I know but… I pushed really hard, harder than I ever have. I hurt you but…” Sam’s fingers fluttered to his nose, feeling the skin underneath like he was expecting blood to be there like Dean’s.
“But why wasn’t I all zombified into doing your bidding?” Dean asked. He stuck his hands out straight with his hands limp on the ends, canted his head and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth. “Maaaaster. I’m ready to do you biiiiiiiiding,” he drawled, the words mangled because his tongue was still lolling out of his mouth.
He dropped his arms at Sam’s pinched expression. “C’mon Sam. You’re visions have been pretty sketchy and you were only able to do that telekinesis thing once. Maybe this is just as hit and miss.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Sam allowed.
000
There’d been three missed calls on his phone from Missouri while Dean was out, but he was having trouble calling back, wandering all over the front yard trying to get a signal.
“Happens sometimes,” a voice piped up behind him and Dean turned to see a skinny kid of maybe sixteen standing in the front doorway, shaggy black hair over his eyes.
“What does?” Dean asked, holding his phone up to the sky and glaring at it, as if he could will a bar of signal into existence.
“Jenny’s just refreshed the protection runes. Messes with electronics and phones for a few days until they take properly. If you tried watching TV you’d get nothing but snow at the moment either.”
“You Jason?” Dean asked, turning and pocketing his phone. The kids eyes widened a little when he caught sight of the nasty purple and black bruise on Dean’s temple and Dean thought, bingo.
“You gotta understand-“ the kid, Jason, started and Dean held up a hand.
“I don’t gotta do anything,” Dean said, voice even and eyes hard. “But you try to hurt me or my brother again, and I will put you down permanently. Understand?”
“I don’t think I could anyway,” Jason said, toeing the bottom of the doorframe with a ratty sneaker.
“No, because Sam stopped you. Just don’t go thinking because Sam isn’t around, you can.”
The boy looked up quickly, face puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
Dean huffed an exasperated breath. “Sam deflected whatever you tried to do,” Dean said but Jason was shaking his head, puzzlement turning into a frown.
“No,” he said, rubbing at his forehead with a grimy hand. “No, it was you.”
Part Four
By:
kellifer_ficFandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Dean,Sam (gen)
Words: 1,628
Disclaimer:, Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: Set after 2.01
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
First part here.
When Sam opened the passenger side door the next day and saw an intact version of the book lost to Dean’s round of guilt-pranks sitting on the seat, he reached in and snagged it and then looked at Dean. The older man looked at the book, at Sam and then away.
“Yeah, there was a bookstore in town,” he said, half-shrugging.
When Sam found a new bookmark wedged into the place he'd been up to, he wasn’t sure what to say.
The address Missouri gave him was two days away and Dean knew for the entire trip there would be a third passenger in the car if they didn’t talk about what was going on, in more than abstract terms.
Do you know what you’re doing, when you do it?
It was the question burning a place in Dean’s mind. He had opened his mouth a half dozen times to ask it in the first hour alone, but Sam was either looking out the window, looking through the old shoe box of tapes or staring at the roof of the car.
Dean felt like he needed eye contact, like an unspoken invitation to ask and Sam wasn’t obliging.
Five hours in and with his ass numb and shoulders aching, Dean pulled into a roadside diner with a faded roof that might have once been red but was now a burnt orange and a dozen motorcycles parked outside. He ordered a burger over the counter while Sam went to peruse the case of ancient sandwiches and when Sam came back with a defeated look, ordered a second.
“Just once I’d like the tuna salad not to look like it was made during the civil war,” Sam griped and Dean started, realising it was the first time he’d heard Sam’s voice since they’d headed out and being a little unsettled about it.
“Just what’s going on with you?” Dean blurted, as if Sam’s voice had unglued whatever had been stuck in his throat, not letting the words out. Sam’s jaw tightened, hands closing into fists by his sides.
“I’ll be in the car,” he gritted, turning on his heel and slamming back out the door.
When Dean emerged from the relative cool of the diner, Sam was sitting on the hood of the Impala, heels resting on the front grill. Dean handed over Sam’s burger silently and Sam accepted it, took a bite and chewed carefully before his eyes finally reached Dean’s. “You’ve never been one for tiptoeing around the delicate, Dean. How about you ask me what you really want to?”
Dean had moved to sit beside Sam, but he stopped and came back around to face him, tossing his burger in a trash can that leaned drunkenly to his left. His mouth was dry and the thought of the greasy meat suddenly turned his stomach.
“No, let me guess,” Sam held up a hand when Dean took a breath. “You know what’s going on, probably have done for weeks. You’ve let it slide because, I don’t know, you didn’t want to acknowledge it. We got a nicer motel room, free pie, won a hand of poker we shouldn’t have. Little things mostly.” Sam’s voice was brittle and suddenly Dean didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He was desperate not to hear it.
Something fundamental was about to change and although for some reason Missouri seemed to think so, Dean knew he wasn’t ready.
“You just want to know if I’ve done it to you,” Sam finished, tone going from brittle to hollow.
“Sam-“
“I’m not sure how you can… why you would think I would do that,” Sam said, sounding small and hurt, but his eyes had skipped away again. “You know I wouldn’t. We should just forget it,” Sam added, eyes coming up and that was when Dean felt it.
It was slight, gentle, like the beating of moth wings against a palm, but Dean felt it.
Dean hooked his arm back, instinct overriding everything else, and let fly, connecting solidly with Sam’s jaw and sending him sliding off the Impala. Sam hadn’t been expecting it and he was on his knees in the gravel of the parking lot before either man really knew what had happened. Dean felt something wet on his upper lip and he put his fingers to it, the tips coming away bloody. He leant over and looked in the rearview mirror of the Impala and saw a single, smeared line of red that had trickled out of his right nostril.
“Sam what the hell?” Dean demanded, moving back to his younger brother. Sam was still kneeling, hands up by his temples and fingers clenched in his hair, eyes wide.
“Oh god Dean, I didn’t… why did I… I didn’t mean to do that,” Sam said, voice ragged. Dean knelt down so he could pull Sam’s hands out of his hair before he yanked whole chunks free, pulling Sam forward and into his chest. Sam’s face was pale and shining, pupils blown wide.
“We’ll fix you, kiddo. We’ll find a way to fix this,” Dean murmured, holding himself still and with a hand resting on the back of Sam’s neck.
Not wanting Sam to know that for one brief moment, he’d been terrified.
There were cows and a couple of goats milling about the sedate little farmhouse they pulled up to. Dean would’ve thought he had the wrong place if he hadn’t seen a protection rune inscribed and almost hidden in a quirky little pattern on the letterbox out by the front gate of the property. He felt something nudge his mind, more soft fluttery moth wings but Sam was asleep, mouth open, in the passenger seat so Dean got out and stood in front of the Impala, hands held out.
“Missouri sent me,” he called into the twilight, his hackles rising with the feeling that a weapon was trained on him. Sure enough, a woman dressed in jeans and a red undershirt stepped out from the side of the house, rifle snugged into her shoulder.
Dean moved sideways when he noticed that the gun was trained on Sam, asleep in the car, and not him.
“Who are you?” the woman asked and Dean snorted, tapping his temple.
“Don’t you know already?”
A flash of annoyance crossed the woman’s face and Dean frowned when she said, “No.”
“Dean Winchester. The beanpole in the car is my brother Sam,” Dean said, reaching behind and through the car’s window to flick Sam in the ear. Sam came awake with a snort.
“Winchester huh? Yeah, I heard of you,” the woman said, still looking suspicious but the muzzle of her rifle had dipped lower.
“Dean!” Sam yelped, warning in his voice and Dean turned just in time to have something solid meet his temple.
As he went down, black washing everything, he thought, must be slipping, didn’t even hear…
When Dean came to, he felt a second of panic until he realised that there was a cold compress over his eyes and he wasn’t actually blind. He reached up and tugged it down, eyes skimming the room and finally coming to rest on Sam sitting on a threadbare-looking armchair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Sam asked, voice pitched low which Dean appreciated since he felt like his head was going to fall off.
“Bit of a headache,” Dean allowed. “What happened?”
“Apparently they have trust issues. There’s a kid here, Jason. He hit you.”
“Didn’t even here the little fucker comin’,” Dean grumbled but when Sam gave him a funny look, Dean glared at him. “What?”
“Jason was about ten feet away when he… hit you,” Sam said.
“Oh.” Dean sat up slowly, fingers exploring his head and finding tender skin just over his left eye, probably a hell of a bruise. “But wait, you yelled out. You tried to warn me.”
“I..” Sam looked down at his clasped fingers and then back up again. “I felt him kinda… ramping up to it. I felt him before I saw him.”
“Okay…” Dean drawled, raising his eyebrows. “Spooky.”
“What’s spookier is that Jenny says I actually blocked it. That Jason was trying to kill you.”
Dean had swung his feet to the floor but stilled. “Sorry, you’re going to have to catch me up. I’ve been sleeping,” Dean said, eyes automatically going to the archway of the living room when he heard feet on the stairs. A few moments later the woman who’d had a gun on them appeared, sans rifle this time.
“Oh hey, sorry about the bump on the head,” she said, tapping her own temple. Dean scowled at her tone, like he’d done something as simple as trip and get a boo-boo. She’d seemed to already have dismissed him however as her glance skipped to Sam. “You ready to get started?”
“Hang on just a goddam second,” Dean snapped, rising to his feet. “Ready for what?”
“Dean, don’t-“ Sam started, getting his own feet under him but Dean waved a dismissive hand at him.
“I’m glad you’re all so chummy already but someone tried to kill me with their freaky mental powers on our way in. I’m not too sure we’re going to be sticking around.”
“You don’t have to,” the woman, Dean had to assume was Jenny, said.
Dean and Sam both blinked at her. “What?” they said in unison.
“Sam,” Jenny stepped further into the room, her body language dismissing Dean again which made him bunch his hands into fists and lock his jaw. “We have a lot of work to do and your brother could be a distraction.” Her eyes slid to Dean as she said, “He should leave you here because we need you to be focused.”
“Look Lady, I’m not leaving Sam anywhere,” Dean growled, unconsciously moving between her and Sam, just like he had when she’d had a gun trained on him. For some reason, he got the same sensation of underlying threat.
“I really think it’s for the best if-“
“I’m not staying without Dean,” Sam interrupted, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s kinda annoying but we come as a set these days,” he added.
“Fine,” Jenny huffed. “I don’t have any spare beds though so he’s sleeping on the couch.”
When Jenny had turned and stalked from the room, Dean turned to Sam and said, “Dude, we are leaving.”
“No Dean, we can’t,” Sam sighed, dropping back into the armchair. Dean lowered to the couch.
“Why the hell not? She hates me. She’s gotta be evil.”
“Because I… pushed you… or tried to. You gotta believe me that I had never done that before.”
“I do Sammy,” Dean said automatically and was kinda surprised that he meant it.
“I don’t know, it was like a slip. I really wanted you to forget about it all and for everything to go back to normal and I was thinking that so hard that it kinda got away from me. Now I’m worried that it’s gotten away from me before and I haven’t noticed it. Jenny said that’s possible.”
“It must have only been a little slip, because it didn’t work on me,” Dean said, leaning forward to tap Sam’s knee but the younger man was frowning.
“I know but… I pushed really hard, harder than I ever have. I hurt you but…” Sam’s fingers fluttered to his nose, feeling the skin underneath like he was expecting blood to be there like Dean’s.
“But why wasn’t I all zombified into doing your bidding?” Dean asked. He stuck his hands out straight with his hands limp on the ends, canted his head and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth. “Maaaaster. I’m ready to do you biiiiiiiiding,” he drawled, the words mangled because his tongue was still lolling out of his mouth.
He dropped his arms at Sam’s pinched expression. “C’mon Sam. You’re visions have been pretty sketchy and you were only able to do that telekinesis thing once. Maybe this is just as hit and miss.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Sam allowed.
There’d been three missed calls on his phone from Missouri while Dean was out, but he was having trouble calling back, wandering all over the front yard trying to get a signal.
“Happens sometimes,” a voice piped up behind him and Dean turned to see a skinny kid of maybe sixteen standing in the front doorway, shaggy black hair over his eyes.
“What does?” Dean asked, holding his phone up to the sky and glaring at it, as if he could will a bar of signal into existence.
“Jenny’s just refreshed the protection runes. Messes with electronics and phones for a few days until they take properly. If you tried watching TV you’d get nothing but snow at the moment either.”
“You Jason?” Dean asked, turning and pocketing his phone. The kids eyes widened a little when he caught sight of the nasty purple and black bruise on Dean’s temple and Dean thought, bingo.
“You gotta understand-“ the kid, Jason, started and Dean held up a hand.
“I don’t gotta do anything,” Dean said, voice even and eyes hard. “But you try to hurt me or my brother again, and I will put you down permanently. Understand?”
“I don’t think I could anyway,” Jason said, toeing the bottom of the doorframe with a ratty sneaker.
“No, because Sam stopped you. Just don’t go thinking because Sam isn’t around, you can.”
The boy looked up quickly, face puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
Dean huffed an exasperated breath. “Sam deflected whatever you tried to do,” Dean said but Jason was shaking his head, puzzlement turning into a frown.
“No,” he said, rubbing at his forehead with a grimy hand. “No, it was you.”
Part Four