Title: To Be Brothers Again
Rating: PG, gen
Word count: 2,014
Warnings: None, I'm going to assume everyone has seen Scarecrow by now. No pairings.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: A giant thank you to pinkphoenix1985, justruth and yasminke on LJ for the betas.
Summary: Set after Scarecrow. Sam and Dean travel to Sacramento to find their father and they find out more about each other as they try to reconnect after the years apart. I was inspired by the line in IMTOD: "We were just starting to be brother's again." It made me think, at what point did they start?
Four years.
People change in four years. Not the fundamentals, not what really makes them who they are, but in countless other ways. Sometimes it's as small as changing how they take their coffee in the morning and sometimes it's a big change, like deciding to settle down, have a family.
Not being there, not knowing the events that shaped them, changed them and influenced their lives, well, it meant that understanding his brother was like trying to navigate using an old map. Some things never changed, but then there were new routes, and altered landscapes. What once was an open field was now a densely populated neighbourhood.
Careful exploration was required. Noting the new features while keeping close to familiar ground.
And it went both ways, something he was only just beginning to realize.
They leave town as soon as they see Emily off at the bus station. Dean driving, Sam riding shotgun, same as always.
Dean doesn't say anything but the creases around his eyes and down the center of his forehead tell Sam he has a headache. And a pretty bad one at that as Dean's hand reaches up to rub the spot between his brows.
Ever since Dean was a kid he'd always done that when he had a bad headache. Sam had figured it out when he was nine, Dean had decided that being thirteen meant he was too old to go running to dad whenever he was feeling sick. The massaging was the only sign and Sam had taken to covertly informing their dad whenever he saw Dean doing it.
Earlier, Sam had noticed the bruise blossoming around Dean's eyebrow, but he seemed okay now so maybe they'd been lucky and it really was a bad headache and not a concussion. Either way, Sam's planning on checking him over when they stop.
Dean indicates and takes a left onto the main highway. After years of riding in the car with Dean, Sam knows when he's driving aimlessly and when he's driving with a specific destination in mind. It's a subtle difference, but Sam can tell the turn wasn't a last minute decision.
"So where're we headed?"
Dean keeps his eyes fixed on the road as he answers.
"Sacramento."
Little bit late for that, dontcha think, Dean. Sam bites down on the reply; it's not going to help. Instead—
"Dean, I don't think Dad's gonna be there."
"I know. Me neither." Sam can hear the regret in his voice; it reminds him that Dean wants to find their father just as much, if not more than Sam. "But he was there for a reason and you know, maybe there's something there, some clues we can pick up, give us an idea where he might have gone."
"Yeah, okay. It's not like we've got any other leads on where he might be." Sam stretches as much as he can and settles back into the seat, now knowing that they're in it for the long haul. Sacramento must be what, a day and a half away?
"How long d'you think?" Sam asks, an echo of when he was younger and constantly pestering Dean with "are we there yet?" Dean had somehow always known how far away they were, and he'd also been scarily accurate sometimes.
"Just over a day. Depends if we stop."
Sam nods. There's a degree of tension between them. Like they're on their best behavior, trying not to slip up and antagonize the other, except they're also trying their best not to seem like they're on their best behavior.
Don't look over here.
Everything is A-okay.
Normal.
Fine.
It was kind of exhausting.
Five hours later and Dean isn't even trying to hide it. There's a slouch in his shoulders and even though they've been driving for hours Dean has neither spoken nor put on any music. Anybody can see he's exhausted.
So it comes as no surprise to Sam when they stop at a motel in Wyoming rather than trading places and driving through the night. After a chest full of rock salt and spending the night tied up in an orchard with a homicidal scarecrow, Sam figures Dean not only needs a night in a proper bed but that he really deserves one. Not that Dean would ever admit to that.
After they check in, Dean sits on the edge of the bed nearest the door. Staring into the bathroom longingly, like a shower would be great but it's just too much effort.
Personally, Sam can't wait to dive in the shower himself, but in a burst of sympathy he asks if Dean would like it first.
"Nah, s'ok."
"Sure?"
"Mmmhmmm." Dean says and lies back on the bed.
Dean's in the same position fast asleep when Sam comes out the shower and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him. Instead he silently unlaces Dean's boots, slips them off his feet and pulls the quilt over him before climbing into his own bed.
It takes less than a minute before both Winchesters are asleep.
"Nothing. Nada, Zilch, Zip." Dean drops the paper onto the table. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if Dad was even here, Sam."
They'd arrived in Sacramento earlier in the afternoon and had wasted no time going through John's various aliases trying to find a record of him at motels. If John really didn't want to be found then it was unlikely he had used them, but they had to try anyway. In an effort to cover all the bases, Sam had suggested they also check hospitals. After the look on Dean's face, he volunteered to take that job on himself.
Dean's been looking into anything supernatural that might have drawn John to the area but as far as they can tell there is nothing here, implying that maybe John was passing through not stopping. Even if they had left for Sacramento as soon as they got their father's phone call they still would have found no clues as to his whereabouts.
But Sam doesn't want to give up yet, so they expand their search, looking at nearby towns and cities, trying to find a sign of something demonic or supernatural that might have caused John to pass through Sacramento.
The only thing they find is a few cattle deaths that happened well over a week ago, and with no other demonic omens it's doubtful it would have attracted any hunter's attention let alone John's.
After the second day of fruitless searching, Dean returns from a coffee run with a six-pack of beer instead. Sam doesn't say a word and accepts the bottle that Dean holds out.
When all else fails, get wasted.
They're halfway through the six-pack, drinking in silence with some cheesy horror film on in the background when Sam finally speaks.
"Dean."
"Yeah."
"What did you and Dad do while I was gone?"
"We hunted. You know that."
"Yeah, but what? What did you hunt? And where?"
Dean glances at Sam, wary, as if expecting this to result in another of Sam's arguments as to why hunting is not a valid career choice.
"Dude, what brought this on?"
"I dunno. It's just … I was thinking … you were checking up on me. You knew what I did, you knew where I was. But I don't even know where you guys were, let alone what you were doing. And I, I'd just like to know."
"Well, Dad and I didn't know exactly what you were doing. We just knew you were safe. Knew you were happy. That was enough, at the time."
"Dean. Just— answer my question?"
Dean sighs. "Tell you what. Every question I answer I get to ask one of my own. Deal?"
"Yeah, all right." Sam warms to the idea, quid pro quo, that's fair. "What—"
"Hey!"
"What?"
"I go first."
"What? No, you said every question you answer, you get to ask one. You haven't answered a question yet, so you can't ask one."
"Yeah, but it's my idea. I make the rules and I say I go first."
Sam's alcohol-hazed mind can't come up with an argument against that and he huffs. Although as long as he gets a question in before Dean decides it's a stupid idea he reallu doesn't mind.
"Fine. Go for it."
Dean grins, and Sam winces, wondering what's coming. If it's anything sex related I'm not answering.
"What class had the hottest chicks?"
"What?"
"For future reference, you know, should I ever want to take a class or two myself."
"Of all the things you could have asked me, you ask that?"
Dean shrugs.
"It's a valid question. Why? What did you think I'd ask?"
Sam goes back to slowly peeling the label off his bottle of beer.
"Just thought you might wanna ask something … about Jess," he says quietly.
"I didn't think you'd want to talk about it."
"I…" Sam considers it. "I wouldn't mind."
Jess would have liked Dean, Sam decides. She probably would have said that Dean was good for Sam, that he brought Sam out of his shell and made him live a little. And the thing is, she would have been right.
"Okay then. Scrap the last question. How did you and Jess meet?"
Sam smiles. And as he begins to answer he wonders if Dean knows how secluded it gets in certain areas of the library late at night.
An hour later, the beer is gone, Sam is pleasantly buzzed and Dean is snoring, head tipped back against the wall.
They'd talked. Really talked tonight. Not about a hunt or finding Dad, but about Dean's first solo hunt, Sam's first year in the dorms, the time Dean had spent a week in Las Vegas after a hunt. The details that at first glance don't seem important but if they changed them even just a bit, how can they not be important?
Dean hadn't understood why it had taken Sam a month to ask Jess out on a date and Sam hadn't seen the appeal in entering a burger eating competition, but really did that matter?
Sam feels like he's starting to get to know his brother again. Really know him. The Dean in his memories doesn't match the person sleeping next to him and he's only just beginning to realise how much he's missed of Dean's life.
Then again, Dean's missed so much of Sam's too, but if the enthusiasm of Dean's questions about Stanford is anything to go by, then Dean wants to fill in those gaps just as much as Sam.
They stick around Sacramento another few days. But as each day passes, it looks more and more likely that John merely stopped to call them while passing through, which means he could be anywhere by now. Again.
By mutual agreement they decide to call it quits.
Dean wakes up the final morning in Sacramento to the smell of coffee and the rustle of newspaper. Blearily opening an eye, he spots the coffee cup on the nightstand and beyond that Sam sitting at the table, his own coffee cup abandoned as he studies the paper closely, taking notes.
"Sam?"
"Some kids have gone missing in Nebraska. It's got all the earmarks of a rawhead."
Stretching, Dean sits up and takes a sip of coffee, letting the caffeine and Sam's words sink in.
"Rawhead? Nice, I've been wanting to try out those amped-up tasers I got. Where about in Nebraska?"
"Lexington."
Sam finishes writing and looks over smiling. Dean's head is tilted to the side and Sam could see the gears working as his brother, the human odometer calculates their ETA.
"We can be there in about nineteen hours."
Sam nods, gathering his research to continue in the car. Nineteen hours should be enough time for him to narrow down the area they should search. Sam smiles as he realises that he'll be reading while Dean navigates, just like when they were kids.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Did you enjoy? I would love to hear your thoughts. It's been a while since I've posted something longer than a ficlet and I've tried a few new things in this one. Concrit is welcomed.