Familiar
Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, I sure wouldn't waste time writing fanfiction about it.
Summary: Jess Moore thinks there's something oddly familiar about this strange Dean guy she met in a bar. oneshot, slight SamJess, spoilers only for Pilot
Author's Note: So I was watching the Pilot ep again and I thought that Jess stayed oddly calm throughout the whole Dean-bursting-into-the-apartment scene. It's probably just me, but she and Dean kept shooting each other these strange glances, and because this is the way my mind works, I created a story about it. I suppose this could be slightly AU since I doubt Dean and Jess ever met before the aforementioned scene, but ah well. Call it creative liscence. So as always, read, review, and enjoy!
--
Jess sees him for the first time on a rainy October Friday.
He's got a pocketful of crumpled bills and a pool stick in hand; there's an ever-present smirk plastered across his face. He's tall, but not lanky—more solid than anything—good-looking and easygoing, but with a street-wise, don't-mess-with-me sort of air about him. He looks like the kind of guy her mother warned her about: a sweet-talking, love 'em and leave 'em heartbreaker with a smile full of promises he can't, and won't, ever keep. He also looks unbelievably familiar, though she can't say why.
Despite herself, Jess is intrigued.
"I'll be back, kids," he says to a group of very drunk pre-meds (irony is a beautiful thing sometimes), and saunters off to the bar to buy himself a beer. He slides into the seat right beside her, orders his drink, and then leans back, idly drumming a rhythm on the countertop. Jess likes to meet new people, especially intriguing ones (good looks don't hurt either), and she's got some time to kill. What the hell? she thinks, and turns toward him.
"Collecting your lunch money?" Jess asks innocently, nodding casually towards the pool table. He looks her up and down and that smirk of his widens as he shrugs, taking a gulp of Guinness.
"They deserved it," he tells her. "Too stupid to know that if you play with fire you get burned."
"Probably," she agrees. "They'll be doctors yet." He laughs a little, eyes crinkling at the corners.
"You got a name, sweetheart?"
"Jessica Moore," she tells him. "Jess." She holds out a hand to shake, and he accepts. "I think I've seen you somewhere before," she adds. "What's your major?"
"I'm not a student." Something flickers in his eyes, something sad and dangerous and protective, something Jess doesn't pretend she understands. "Just passing through."
"Hm." She surveys him critically. "I didn't get your name."
"Dean," is his prompt reply.
"No last name?"
"Just Dean," he says easily, but in a way that suggests the subject is closed. She shifts uncomfortably, eyes him curiously—the dimpled smile, the flickering in the eyes, the way he slides the beer back and forth across the counter from one huge calloused hand to the other. It's too eerily familiar, like déjà vu or having the same dream twice. He's different, but the same, and she can't place how.
"All right, Just Dean," Jess finally manages, "where're you from?"
"L.A.," he says. "I'm a talent scout, looking for promising young ladies."
"Is that so?" She doesn't buy it for a minute. No talent scout she's ever met needs to hustle college kids to pay for a beer, and none of them wear beaten leather jackets either. "How long have you been in town?"
"Just got here a couple hours ago." Dean tilts his head and finishes off the beer, then signals the bartender for another and nods at Jess. "Can I buy you one?"
"Thanks, but no thanks." Jess stands. "I'm meeting someone for dinner—" She nods at the bustling restaurant behind them. "—at six. He'll be here any minute."
"Boyfriend?" Dean asks (is that disappointment she hears in his voice?).
"Yahtzee." She grins, and for a moment he looks startled.
"Huh," he says, more to himself than her, and shakes his head. "Hey listen, before you go, could you help me out?"
"With what?"
"Could you tell me where 5631 West Greensboro Avenue is?"
She pauses, narrowing her eyes.
"Why do you want to know that?"
Dean blinks, puzzled, and then his smirk (Jess suspects it's trademark) returns.
"I've got an appointment with a pretty girl who thinks she can make it big." He slides the beer bottle to his left hand, then his right, and for a moment Jess almost thinks he looks nervous. "It's just I'm having a little trouble finding it. Do you turn left on North Creek or keep heading straight?"
"You turn left," she chokes out, throat dry. She doesn't know why she does it, why she's giving this shady-looking Dean character directions to her apartment. It's his disarming smile, she decides. It's so genuine, so...(and hates to think the annoying word) familiar, she can't bring herself to say no.
She'll lose sleep over this later, that's for sure.
"Thanks, Jess." He opens his mouth to say something else, but something in his face freezes. His eyes flicker again, and Jess notices that he's staring directly over her shoulder. "That your boyfriend?" Dean's voice is falsely casual, almost comically so. She turns to look and sees Sam standing in the doorway, fumbling with his umbrella, scowling in that adorable way of his. She smiles fondly and turns back to Dean.
"Yeah, that's Sam." Jess chuckles to herself. "I better go. Good luck with your talent scouting."
"Thanks," Dean says again, but he's eyeing her almost disbelievingly, sizing her up or something, his gaze newly suspicious and strangely defensive. "I'll see—see you around." That sounds a bit too creepy for her liking, but she shrugs it off.
"Bye, Just Dean."
Then she walks away and catches Sam's attention; he draws her into his arm and kisses her quickly.
"How long did I keep you waiting?" he asks. "I'm sorry; traffic was terrible."
"Not long at all. I was just having a beer over at the bar." Jess nods to it, and sees the strange Dean guy is gone. She wonders if she should mention him to Sam, let him that he wanted their address, but something tells her it's not a good idea. "Anyway, you hungry?"
"Starved."
"So what else is new?" Jess quips, and they head off to find a table.
Sam orders a beer and a burger and fries and Jess has the same. They talk about innocuous things like his interview and if they're going to be able to pay rent on time this month and Sam's job at the bookstore and Jess' job at Old Navy, and all the while Jess studies Sam.
It's familiar.
The way his voice changes subtly when a subject is closed ("I can pay my own half of the rent, okay?" Never mind that Jess just got a raise and Sam's barely getting paid minimum wage.).
The way his dimples flash.
The way he slides his beer bottle from hand to hand.
Déjà vu, Jess thinks, and something like understanding taps her on the shoulder.
"Sam," she says, quite out of the blue, "what's your brother like?"
His face freezes, something in his eyes flicker. The beer bottle slides from his right hand to his left and his knuckles go white.
"Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," she answers honestly, peering at him closely. "You don't talk about your family much. I just wonder, that's all."
"He's annoying," Sam says after a few long minutes. "Really snarky, you know? He's always trying to pick up girls, hustle people at pool, that sort of thing. You probably wouldn't like him."
"He's older than you, right?"
"By four years. He gets pretty weird about it sometimes…you know, overly-protective and stuff."
"Do you miss him?"
"Sometimes." Sam stares down at the beer. "He hates me," he adds in a quiet sort of voice. "For leaving."
"I doubt that," Jess says. "It sounds like he loves you a lot." Sam snorts disbelievingly, but his eyes are sad when he meets her gaze.
"We haven't spoken for years," he tells her. "My dad…he…" He shakes his head and sighs. "We just don't really talk about love in my family, you know?"
"Yeah," she says softy. "I know." There's another long pause. "What's his name, Sam?" He hesitates, then shrugs.
"Dean."
Different but the same, Jess thinks, and shudders a little as she watches Sam tilt his head back and finish the last of his Guinness.
--
The next day.
When Jess sees a black, '67 Chevy Impala circle the block for the fiftieth time, she stops folding her laundry and walks outside.
Dean pauses for a moment when he sees her sitting on the curb, but stops the car and gets out, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.
"Jessica Moore," he says finally, grinning at her. "Long time, no see."
"Dean Winchester," she returns, rising to her feet. "What a pleasant surprise." He raises an eyebrow but shrugs, smirk flickering across his face.
"Does Sam know I'm here?"
"Against my better judgment, no. He doesn't," she admits. "You two need to work things out for yourselves, I think."
"Look, Jessica." Dean regards her seriously. "I have to see him, but he can't know I saw you first."
"What?" She frowns. "Look, I don't think he'll be that mad, you know. In fact, he'll probably be thrilled; he just got his LSAT scores and he did a phenomenal job. He won't admit it, but he's dying to tell you or your father." Something in Dean's face shifts, just as Sam's does every now and again, and Jess can't help but shudder a little. That expression fairly radiates pain and something else—something dark, something secret.
"Yeah," Dean says after a moment in an odd sort of voice. "Yeah, I'll bet he does." He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "LSATs…that's some lawyer exam, right?"
"Yep," Jess says. "Sam can get in anywhere he wants with the kind of score he made, with a full ride. You're brother's insanely smart, you know." Dean smiles, just a little, and nods.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know he is." He pauses again, then eyes Jess critically. "How much do you know about Sam?"
"Plenty," she announces. "Not a whole lot about what happened to him before he came to Stanford, though." Dean shakes his head after a moment and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "Atta boy, Sammy," before turning to her again.
"All right Jessica, here's the deal. I have to talk to him tonight, but he cannot know that I've talked to you. Trust me, he'll never even give me the time of day if he does. He'll think I was spying or…I just…I can't afford for him to not hear me out. You say you know Sam—well, then you know he's a stubborn bastard when he sets his mind to it. I know you probably won't like this…but if I'm gonna get him on my side, I have to do this right."
"And what would you call 'right'?"
"I have to break-in to your apartment tonight."
"Now hold on just a minute!" Jess scowls at him, folding her arms. "You have to do what?"
"Break-in," Dean repeats calmly, and she can't shake the feeling that there's something he's not telling her. "Don't worry, it's not like I'm about to steal your stuff. I'll just let myself in and Sam will do the rest. You'll see."
"Sam?" Jess doesn't bother to hide her amusement. "How d'you know Mr. Egghead won't just call the cops on you?"
"He won't," Dean says calmly. "He'll handle it himself."
"And suppose he stabs you or something?"
"He won't," Dean repeats. "I could kick his ass when we were kids, I can kick his ass now. He'll be pissed off, but if I go about this any other way he'll think I'm up to something and then—" Dean breaks off, staring down at his boots. "Well, then I'll be back to square one," he says softly. "And that would kind of suck."
"You are up to something," Jess feels obligated to point out. "I barely know you and even I can tell there's something going on."
"I just want to make-up with my brother," Dean says. "And I have to tell him something important. I swear, that's it. I'm not here to…to…"
"Hurt him?" Jess suggests, surveying the man before her shrewdly.
"Sure," Dean says in a clipped tone. "Whatever you wanna call it."
"So I can't tell Sam I saw you today?"
"Nope."
"I still don't…"
"You're a smart girl," Dean says, "I get that. Any girl Sammy picked would be smart. You're wondering about the secrecy and you're damn sure not convinced my intentions are as innocent as I pretend they are. Well, you're right to wonder and you're right not to be convinced, but let me make one thing perfectly clear: if I don't talk to Sam under my conditions, tonight—then I might never get to see my little brother again. Okay?"
There's this desperation in his eyes, this angry, hopeless desperation, and Jess' mind is made up long before Dean pauses to draw breath.
"All right," she says. "I'll pretend I've never met you, okay?"
He smiles genuinely, relief creasing his features.
"Thanks, Jessica."
"You're protecting him," she says softly, eyeing him curiously. "But from what?" Dean shifts uncomfortably and turns for his car.
"I'll see you tonight," he calls over his shoulder, fumbling with the keys in his jacket's pocket.
"I'll leave the upstairs window unlatched," she calls back as he gets in the car and starts the ignition. He grins at her and jabs at a button on the dashboard; Metallica blasts from the stereo and the Impala rumbles off down the street. Jess shoves her hands in her pockets and goes upstairs to finish folding the laundry and iron her nurse costume, feeling a cross between guilty and hopelessly curious.
--
That night.
It's late and she's exhausted, but the moment Sam gets out of bed Jess wakes with a start.
She listens carefully and for a few moments, all she hears is silence.
Then she hears what can only be fighting, banging and thumps, male voices grunting and exclaiming in pain, and then finally Sam's voice, loud and angry—
"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Well," his brother responds, "I was looking for a beer."
They lower their voices after that, and finally, exasperated that she can't hear them properly, Jess scrambles out of bed and creeps to the doorway.
"If I'd have called," Dean is saying as she moves for the light-switch, "would you have picked up?" The short silence is enough for her, and she flips on the light.
"Sam?" she asks, blinking in surprise at the brightness of the light.
"Jess, hey," he says quickly, eyes darting nervously between her and his brother. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." She can't help but smile.
"Wait—your brother Dean?" Jess asks, glancing quickly at Dean, who raises a brow at her and crosses the room, smirking all the way.
"I love the Smurfs," he announces, gaze falling to her chest, and she resists the urge to smack him upside the head. Sam's right, under any other circumstances she probably wouldn't like him. "You know, I gotta tell you, you are completley outta my brother's league."
"Just let me put something on," she says pointedly, grinning at Dean's irrepressibility despite herself.
"No, no, no. I wouldn't dream of it," Dean insists, sly grin still plastered across his face. "Seriously." Jess should leave them to it now, but she's still curious, and Dean shoots her a meaningful glance as he adds, "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but uh—nice meetin' you." Likewise, Just Dean, she responds mentally, half-smiling at him, and she's just about to leave them to it when Sam suddenly darts across the room and puts a protective arm around her waist.
"No. No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her," Sam says stubbornly, gaze hard in a way Jess has never seen before. Dean looks taken aback, then quickly recovers, apparently trying to be reasonable.
"Okay, um…Dad hasn't been home in a few days."
"So he's working overtime on a Miller-time shift," Sam sneers, looking half-annoyed, half-disgusted. Jess eyes him in slight surprise—there have been very few times she has seen him get nasty or even mildly perturbed, and it always shocks her a little. "He'll stumble back in sooner or later."
"Dad's on a hunting trip," Dean says pointedly, his face calm but his eyes accusatory. "And he hasn't been home in a few days." Jess turns to look at Sam, and she's more than shocked when she sees what happens to his face.
Fear, that's what that is—terror, even. He's frozen, staring at his brother, and now—now surely she'll find out what this is all about. Sam has pulled away before but how can he pretend there's nothing to talk about now, with her standing right here and his brother there, talking about hunting…hunting what? What in the world is going on with the Winchester family?
"Jess, excuse us," Sam says after a long moment, his face ashen. "We have to go outside."
She wants to protest, to beg for him to tell her what's going on, to tell him she deserves answers too. Just a moment ago he wanted her to be in the loop and now he's pushing her away again.
Dean smiles quietly at her, and lifts a hand to clap his brother on the shoulder, guiding him slowly out of the room and towards the front door. Already they're muttering to each other, voices far too low and ominous sounding for her liking.
Jess peers down at them from the window when they reach the parking lot, and she can tell they're arguing. They lean down to look at something in a car trunk for awhile, and then Sam stands straight, and she can see some sort of defeat written all over him. He turns away and disappears; a minute later he's banged into the apartment and is yelling something at her about going off with his brother.
She tries to reason with him, tries to get him to tell her what's going on, but he makes up some lame excuse about his dad deer hunting—he's such a horrible liar—and starts to head for the door.
Jess begs him to rethink this, peering at him intently, wishing that for once in his life, he'd trust her. Sam kisses her sloppily on the cheek and promises her everything will be okay, he'll be back in time for the interview.
I never would have left that window unlatched, she thinks irritably as he rushes away, if I had known this is what it would lead to.
She hurries to the window again to watch him leave. Dean is leaning against his car, arms folded, and he meets her gaze almost immediately. He gives her a little wave and winks, then stands up straight as Sam skids into the parking lot. Dean grabs the bag from his little brother and throws it into the backseat, then says something to him quietly. Sam turns to meet her gaze, waves, and winks, mouthing, I love you.
I love you, too, Jess mouths back, giving a little wave of her own, and chuckles a bit as Dean shoves Sam pointedly towards the passenger seat. Sam clambers in, Dean hops into the driver's seat, and before she knows it, the car is screeching away. Whatever it is about those Winchesters—and part of Jess isn't sure she wants to know—she's never met two brothers so undeniably different, and yet at the same time, so ironically, incredibly alike
As she heads resolutely back to bed, Jess sighs wearily. When Sam gets home, she decides as she sinks down onto the mattress, she'll tell him about meeting Dean at the bar. It isn't right to keep it from him anymore, and besides, then she can convince him to tell her what all this is about. He can't hide it forever, not after tonight.
"I knew your brother from the moment I saw him," she'll tell a bemused Sam, grinning cheekily. "There was just no denying it."
"But we don't look anything alike!" she knows he'll protest. "We're completely different people, Jessica!"
"Doesn't matter," she'll say, smiling loftily. "There was something about him." (This is the part where she'll kiss Sam and rest her forehead against his.) "Something wonderfully familiar."