![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Agnatus - Part One
By: kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Dean/Sam
Words: 1,719
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: None
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox* and to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyra_wing for Americanisation and beating my grammer into some semblance of recognition.
Summary: Two sons were born to John Winchester, years and miles apart. They grew up strangers but fate had other plans for them, and a black sense of humour.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
The skipped track clicked into place and resumed, a preordained path only younger than time itself. A line of destiny had been derailed but was now veering true, breaking through barriers like water through rock.
See? Fate seemed to laugh. You cannot change what is meant to pass.
Just wait, the Demon replied. This is a different world.
000
Something in Ellen’s eyes darkened, some kind of resignation and Dean didn’t know what to make of it. Not for the first time in his life, Dean felt like he had stepped into something that was already halfway through and he was scrambling to catch-up.
“I’m Dean-”
“Winchester,” she breathed, the same note of resignation in her voice that he saw in her eyes and again, Dean didn’t know what to make of it. A blonde girl with an apron tied around her waist appeared behind Sam, curiosity plain on her features.
“Have we met?” Dean asked, knowing it was possible, that this could have been an old friend of his dad’s, maybe went on a hunt and Dean had just been too little to remember.
The woman’s eyes darted quickly to Sam and the girl and then back to Dean. “No hon. Sorry, you just surprised me is all,” she said, moving behind the bar. “You want a beer?”
It was ten in the morning but Dean had never said no to free beer in his life. “What the hell.” He shrugged and reached forward for the bottle she was holding out.
“Now, what brings you here?” she asked, still looking wary.
“My dad’s missing. Went on a hunting trip and he didn’t come back,” Dean said, lowering himself onto one of the stools at the bar. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the blonde girl looked at the broom handle in Sam’s hands, snorted and rolled her eyes and disappeared out the back. She emerged moments later with another broom that Sam took with a sheepish grin and then swatted her on the ass with as soon as her back was turned. She pivoted gracefully, poking out her tongue and flipping him off.
“That happens,” Ellen said, something sad in her eyes. “He’s gone missing before, hasn’t he?”
Dean frowned, peeling the edge of the beer label back, folding the piece of ripped paper with his fingers. “Not like this. He’s been gone awhile and I…” Don’t know what to do, he nearly admitted but stopped himself just in time, swallowing hard. “The work’s piling up and this just isn’t like him,” Dean amended.
“Your dad-” Ellen started but then closed her mouth, her gaze flicking to Sam over Dean’s shoulder. “Sam, would you get the case of whiskey from out the back. I think we ran out last night,” she called and Sam nodded and put the broom aside, skirting the bar to disappear through a swinging door.
“Your Dad tends to lose track when he’s on the trail of something,” Ellen said when Sam was gone. “Are you sure?”
“No,” Dean snapped, and then grimaced. “I’m sorry, but no, I’m not sure about anything. He could turn up in a few weeks and everything will be normal but I can’t fight this feeling that he won’t.”
Ellen nodded slowly and Dean set his beer aside, looking at her levelly. “I just need to know what you thought you could help him with.”
“The demon, of course,” Ellen said with no preamble and Dean blinked at her.
000
“I think mom’s done her own version of sending me out for striped paint,” Sam grumbled as he pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter next to Jo, who was chopping vegetables. She paused, meaning to wipe her hands on her apron, thought better of it and wiped them down Sam’s jeans instead. He sighed but it turned into a snort of laughter. “You’re a jerk.”
“Takes one to know one,” Jo replied airily, scooping a handful of chopped carrots and transferring them to the pot she’d set up on the stove. “And what do you mean?”
“She sent me out the back so she could talk to that guy,” Sam said. “I don’t know why she keeps doing stuff like that. We’re surrounded by hunters day in and day out. What does she think she’s keeping from us?”
“Maybe it’s just none of your business,” Jo said, leaning a hip against the counter.
“She’s just so terrified that we’ll want to pick up where Dad left off,” Sam mused, ignoring Jo’s jibe.
“Not this again,” Jo huffed, leaning forward to jab a finger in Sam’s shoulder. “Why can’t you just let that go?”
“We know what’s out there. Don’t you feel like it’s our…I don’t know, responsibility to do something about it?” Sam prodded, letting a knowing smile wash over his face. “I’ve seen you sneaking looks at the files some of those hunters bring in. I’ve seen you making a file or two and passing them on. Don’t you just want to-?”
“Sam, cut it out. Mom would kick your ass into next week if she heard you talking like this. It’s bad enough she thinks you didn’t get into school. I’m not covering anything else up for you.”
“You know why I did that,” Sam snapped, eyes growing steely. “I’m not leaving you guys. Just… not right now.”
“Oh yeah? When then?” Jo demanded, throwing up her hands. “At this rate you’re going to be one of those creepy mature-age students who gets their assignments in three weeks before the due date and sits in the front of the lecture. And you’ll be forty, wondering what happened to your life.”
“I don’t see you running out the door,” Sam argued, color rising in his face.
“If I had your brains I would you idiot!” Jo snarled, untying her apron and throwing it aside. “You got a free ride to Stanford and you passed it up because you thought what? That mom and I couldn’t take care of ourselves?”
“Uh, sorry,” a voice interrupted. Both Jo and Sam turned to see Dean poking his head through the doorway. “Ellen said I could use the bathroom before I headed off.”
“Through there,” Jo said, pointing the way, tilting her head and her hips and letting a lazy smile flow across her face. Dean nodded in thanks and when he disappeared through the door, Sam elbowed Jo lightly in the back.
“That was subtle,” he snorted as Jo turned to glare at him.
“What?” she hissed.
“I would just rather not witness my sister flinging herself at someone. It’s liable to scar me for life.”
“Oh shut up,” Jo snapped. “Do I ever make fun of you when you make embarrassing and clumsy passes at the poor women who happen to stumble in here?”
“Yes,” Sam said, and Jo smirked.
“Well, it’s funny when I do it,” she said primly and Sam threw an arm around her neck and dragged her into a headlock just as Dean reappeared. He gave them a strange look and kept on walking, pushing his way through the door that led back into the bar.
“I hate you!” Jo grated when she finally broke free, stalking through the kitchen and thumping up the stairs that led to their living area above the bar.
000
“Nice car.”
Dean turned at the voice and saw Sam standing by a dumpster near where he’d parked. Sam had a bag of trash in one hand, which he slung into the open bin.
“Thanks. My dad restored her. She was pretty much a wreck when he got her.” Dean canted his head, looking Sam up and down. He currently had a lot of stuff on his mind, but being Dean, he took the time to notice Sam. He was tall and scruffy but Dean could see he was also nicely filled out. His features were sharp and upswept, giving him an almost feline look that Dean found compelling.
He wished for better circumstances.
There was also something familiar about Sam that Dean felt both attracted to and unnerved by.
“You know much about cars?”
Sam grimaced. “Not really.”
“Ah well, don’t worry about it. You recognize a beautiful piece of automotive perfection when you see it. That’s all that’s important.” Dean had his fingers on the car handle, but didn’t open the door because Sam looked like he was dying to say something else. Instead, Dean turned and leaned against the Impala, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting.
“How long have you been hunting?” Sam blurted, and then blinked, looking surprised at himself.
Dean scratched the back of his head and squinted into the sun for a moment. “My dad taught me to shoot when I was seven, so a little after that I guess. He didn’t want me going with him until I could handle a weapon.”
“Seven?” Sam breathed and something close to sympathy crossed his eyes. Dean tensed, hating that instinctive reaction most people had, but Sam apparently wasn’t done asking questions, because his next one caught Dean off-guard. “Who died?”
“What?” Dean asked, wiping his sleeve over his forehead. The day suddenly felt too warm. “Why would you ask that?”
“Most hunters… that’s what starts them. They lose someone to something they can’t explain and they start asking questions. Somewhere along the line, they find someone that gives them the answers.”
“You always this nosy with people you’ve just met?” Dean demanded, wondering why his first instinct hadn’t been to sock the guy, but tell him. Just answer his question with the simple and unadorned truth. Sam was looking at him with wide, understanding eyes and Dean figured he was just one of those people.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“I don’t care what you meant,” Dean snapped, feeling inexplicably angry. “It’s none of your goddamn business.”
“Of course. I’m sorry,” Sam apologized again, blushing and staring at his shoes. He looked so forlorn that when Dean turned back to the Impala, wrenching the door open, he couldn’t help but throw behind him, “It was my mom.”
Dean stomped on the accelerator as soon as he got the Impala started, fishtailing out of the Roadhouse’s lot and not easing up until he couldn’t see it in the rearview mirror anymore.
By: kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Dean/Sam
Words: 1,719
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: None
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox* and to
lyra_wing for Americanisation and beating my grammer into some semblance of recognition.Summary: Two sons were born to John Winchester, years and miles apart. They grew up strangers but fate had other plans for them, and a black sense of humour.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
The skipped track clicked into place and resumed, a preordained path only younger than time itself. A line of destiny had been derailed but was now veering true, breaking through barriers like water through rock.
See? Fate seemed to laugh. You cannot change what is meant to pass.
Just wait, the Demon replied. This is a different world.
Something in Ellen’s eyes darkened, some kind of resignation and Dean didn’t know what to make of it. Not for the first time in his life, Dean felt like he had stepped into something that was already halfway through and he was scrambling to catch-up.
“I’m Dean-”
“Winchester,” she breathed, the same note of resignation in her voice that he saw in her eyes and again, Dean didn’t know what to make of it. A blonde girl with an apron tied around her waist appeared behind Sam, curiosity plain on her features.
“Have we met?” Dean asked, knowing it was possible, that this could have been an old friend of his dad’s, maybe went on a hunt and Dean had just been too little to remember.
The woman’s eyes darted quickly to Sam and the girl and then back to Dean. “No hon. Sorry, you just surprised me is all,” she said, moving behind the bar. “You want a beer?”
It was ten in the morning but Dean had never said no to free beer in his life. “What the hell.” He shrugged and reached forward for the bottle she was holding out.
“Now, what brings you here?” she asked, still looking wary.
“My dad’s missing. Went on a hunting trip and he didn’t come back,” Dean said, lowering himself onto one of the stools at the bar. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the blonde girl looked at the broom handle in Sam’s hands, snorted and rolled her eyes and disappeared out the back. She emerged moments later with another broom that Sam took with a sheepish grin and then swatted her on the ass with as soon as her back was turned. She pivoted gracefully, poking out her tongue and flipping him off.
“That happens,” Ellen said, something sad in her eyes. “He’s gone missing before, hasn’t he?”
Dean frowned, peeling the edge of the beer label back, folding the piece of ripped paper with his fingers. “Not like this. He’s been gone awhile and I…” Don’t know what to do, he nearly admitted but stopped himself just in time, swallowing hard. “The work’s piling up and this just isn’t like him,” Dean amended.
“Your dad-” Ellen started but then closed her mouth, her gaze flicking to Sam over Dean’s shoulder. “Sam, would you get the case of whiskey from out the back. I think we ran out last night,” she called and Sam nodded and put the broom aside, skirting the bar to disappear through a swinging door.
“Your Dad tends to lose track when he’s on the trail of something,” Ellen said when Sam was gone. “Are you sure?”
“No,” Dean snapped, and then grimaced. “I’m sorry, but no, I’m not sure about anything. He could turn up in a few weeks and everything will be normal but I can’t fight this feeling that he won’t.”
Ellen nodded slowly and Dean set his beer aside, looking at her levelly. “I just need to know what you thought you could help him with.”
“The demon, of course,” Ellen said with no preamble and Dean blinked at her.
“I think mom’s done her own version of sending me out for striped paint,” Sam grumbled as he pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter next to Jo, who was chopping vegetables. She paused, meaning to wipe her hands on her apron, thought better of it and wiped them down Sam’s jeans instead. He sighed but it turned into a snort of laughter. “You’re a jerk.”
“Takes one to know one,” Jo replied airily, scooping a handful of chopped carrots and transferring them to the pot she’d set up on the stove. “And what do you mean?”
“She sent me out the back so she could talk to that guy,” Sam said. “I don’t know why she keeps doing stuff like that. We’re surrounded by hunters day in and day out. What does she think she’s keeping from us?”
“Maybe it’s just none of your business,” Jo said, leaning a hip against the counter.
“She’s just so terrified that we’ll want to pick up where Dad left off,” Sam mused, ignoring Jo’s jibe.
“Not this again,” Jo huffed, leaning forward to jab a finger in Sam’s shoulder. “Why can’t you just let that go?”
“We know what’s out there. Don’t you feel like it’s our…I don’t know, responsibility to do something about it?” Sam prodded, letting a knowing smile wash over his face. “I’ve seen you sneaking looks at the files some of those hunters bring in. I’ve seen you making a file or two and passing them on. Don’t you just want to-?”
“Sam, cut it out. Mom would kick your ass into next week if she heard you talking like this. It’s bad enough she thinks you didn’t get into school. I’m not covering anything else up for you.”
“You know why I did that,” Sam snapped, eyes growing steely. “I’m not leaving you guys. Just… not right now.”
“Oh yeah? When then?” Jo demanded, throwing up her hands. “At this rate you’re going to be one of those creepy mature-age students who gets their assignments in three weeks before the due date and sits in the front of the lecture. And you’ll be forty, wondering what happened to your life.”
“I don’t see you running out the door,” Sam argued, color rising in his face.
“If I had your brains I would you idiot!” Jo snarled, untying her apron and throwing it aside. “You got a free ride to Stanford and you passed it up because you thought what? That mom and I couldn’t take care of ourselves?”
“Uh, sorry,” a voice interrupted. Both Jo and Sam turned to see Dean poking his head through the doorway. “Ellen said I could use the bathroom before I headed off.”
“Through there,” Jo said, pointing the way, tilting her head and her hips and letting a lazy smile flow across her face. Dean nodded in thanks and when he disappeared through the door, Sam elbowed Jo lightly in the back.
“That was subtle,” he snorted as Jo turned to glare at him.
“What?” she hissed.
“I would just rather not witness my sister flinging herself at someone. It’s liable to scar me for life.”
“Oh shut up,” Jo snapped. “Do I ever make fun of you when you make embarrassing and clumsy passes at the poor women who happen to stumble in here?”
“Yes,” Sam said, and Jo smirked.
“Well, it’s funny when I do it,” she said primly and Sam threw an arm around her neck and dragged her into a headlock just as Dean reappeared. He gave them a strange look and kept on walking, pushing his way through the door that led back into the bar.
“I hate you!” Jo grated when she finally broke free, stalking through the kitchen and thumping up the stairs that led to their living area above the bar.
“Nice car.”
Dean turned at the voice and saw Sam standing by a dumpster near where he’d parked. Sam had a bag of trash in one hand, which he slung into the open bin.
“Thanks. My dad restored her. She was pretty much a wreck when he got her.” Dean canted his head, looking Sam up and down. He currently had a lot of stuff on his mind, but being Dean, he took the time to notice Sam. He was tall and scruffy but Dean could see he was also nicely filled out. His features were sharp and upswept, giving him an almost feline look that Dean found compelling.
He wished for better circumstances.
There was also something familiar about Sam that Dean felt both attracted to and unnerved by.
“You know much about cars?”
Sam grimaced. “Not really.”
“Ah well, don’t worry about it. You recognize a beautiful piece of automotive perfection when you see it. That’s all that’s important.” Dean had his fingers on the car handle, but didn’t open the door because Sam looked like he was dying to say something else. Instead, Dean turned and leaned against the Impala, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting.
“How long have you been hunting?” Sam blurted, and then blinked, looking surprised at himself.
Dean scratched the back of his head and squinted into the sun for a moment. “My dad taught me to shoot when I was seven, so a little after that I guess. He didn’t want me going with him until I could handle a weapon.”
“Seven?” Sam breathed and something close to sympathy crossed his eyes. Dean tensed, hating that instinctive reaction most people had, but Sam apparently wasn’t done asking questions, because his next one caught Dean off-guard. “Who died?”
“What?” Dean asked, wiping his sleeve over his forehead. The day suddenly felt too warm. “Why would you ask that?”
“Most hunters… that’s what starts them. They lose someone to something they can’t explain and they start asking questions. Somewhere along the line, they find someone that gives them the answers.”
“You always this nosy with people you’ve just met?” Dean demanded, wondering why his first instinct hadn’t been to sock the guy, but tell him. Just answer his question with the simple and unadorned truth. Sam was looking at him with wide, understanding eyes and Dean figured he was just one of those people.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“I don’t care what you meant,” Dean snapped, feeling inexplicably angry. “It’s none of your goddamn business.”
“Of course. I’m sorry,” Sam apologized again, blushing and staring at his shoes. He looked so forlorn that when Dean turned back to the Impala, wrenching the door open, he couldn’t help but throw behind him, “It was my mom.”
Dean stomped on the accelerator as soon as he got the Impala started, fishtailing out of the Roadhouse’s lot and not easing up until he couldn’t see it in the rearview mirror anymore.
From:
no subject
*bounce*
Neat stuff.
:)
From:
no subject