a/n: Plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. If anyone is wondering, this went AU around season 6, so the story takes place around 2021.
Sam fumbles with the phone. It's one of those new high-tech, touch screen ones, the kind Dean would've hated. Dean. He's hasn't thought of Dean for what, a week? It's a record. He's only beaten that during the Stanford years- but that's different. That doesn't count.
"Hello?" The number is unfamiliar. Probably a student, calling to ask what they missed in class the other day, or maybe advertising.
"Is this Sam Winchester?" The voice on the other side is too young to be a student. And Sam Winchester? He hasn't been a Winchester for years now.
"I'm afraid there has been some mistake." He lies smoothly. "My name is Samuel Plant, I teach Latin at the California University."
"You're Sam Winchester." The voice is insistent now. It belongs to a child- a boy, probably, though with the bad connection it's hard to tell.
"Uhhhh-" Sam is on the verge of hanging up and pretending this isn't happening, because he isn't a Winchester anymore. He doesn't do this anymore.
"Please, please, tell me you're Sam Winchester." The boy begs.
Sam doesn't know why -maybe it's because he's got a soft spot for children, now that he has two of his own, or because on some level he feels like he knows the speaker, but finds himself saying, "I was. A long time ago."
There's an exhale of relief on the other side. "You're real."
Maybe a fan of Chuck's books, one that bumped into the supernatural and made the connection? "Listen, kid, if you need a hunter, I can give you a number, but I'm out of the business now, and-"
There's a laugh on the other side, an impossibly old laugh that sends shivers down his spine. "You misunderstand."
And then Sam's fed up with the child. "Yeah, well then enlighten me."
"I need to find Dean."
"Dean is gone." A steely edge enters Sam's tone, but he can't help it. "Dean died, okay? Twelve years ago. Now if you need the number of a hunter, I'll give it to you. Otherwise-"
The boy interrupts again. "Twelve years ago. The angels fell twelve years ago."
"How do you know that?!" That wasn't in the books, not even the online parts. Most hunters haven't figured out what happened. Hell, Sam wouldn't be surprised if he's the only person alive who has the full truth.
He can hear the boy's breathing on the other end. "I should start at the beginning. I'm eleven years old. My name is Casper Jimmy Steele. It's Cas, though. Cas Steele. Yesterday, I learned demons were real. Today, I figured out I've always known demons were real."
Sam sucks in a breath. This isn't his life anymore. He can't let this be his life anymore. Nonetheless, he hears himself asking. "...Castiel?"
"Hello, Sam."