Recognition

It was one of those news reports on TV. The kind that make you want to live on a different planet, where people didn't hurt each other so much. It fit into the same category as the recent reports about guys tying their significant others up and then torturing them and finally murdering them. Apparently this guy had done something similar but had been interrupted and run away or something, Tommy hadn't really been listening, he wasn't in the mood for this sort of news. Then they put up the typical picture that had been drawn from some person's inaccurate description of a face they probably saw for about two seconds and in bad lighting. As if anyone had ever been recognised from one of them.

"No way!" said Tommy, hand poised over the remote control ready to change the channel, he withdrew it after seeing that picture. He knew the face that was on the screen, though he didn't have a name or reason just yet. One thing that face did bring to mind was guns, but it wasn't like he'd shot a large number of people or machine gunned anyone. The news report said he'd used a knife. Besides, Tommy had never owned a gun in his life and he'd only ever even touched one once. Then it hit him – guns! The only time he'd ever touched a gun!

He must have been about thirteen and he was over a friend's house. It was slightly odd, because Tommy didn't usually go over other people's houses after only knowing them for a month. This had been a chance that was too good to refuse, though.

The guy on TV (God, what was his name?) was a bit of a mystery at school, the guy everyone speculates about and the rumours fly around like nobody's business. There was one that said he was a drug dealer, a few about his dad being on the run from a gang somewhere, which was why they moved around such a lot. A few of the girls waxed lyrical about how he only pretended to have a dad so nobody would take his brother away from him. Tommy only remembered these because he'd laughed at how wrong they'd all been as everyone sat around him, watching him avidly as he related to them everything that had happened while in his house. He'd been invited to that guy's house. Not anyone else, him.

It was only because his mom and dad were going out, which would have left him at home with his sisters. That guy had heard Tommy begging for someone's house to go over instead and they kind of knew each other from classes so Tommy had said yes when he'd offered, with probably a hell of a lot of thanks as well. There was another reason he remembered that visit so clearly as well.

"Dude?" asked Tommy after being in the house for at least half an hour with no sign of an adult, "Where's your dad?"

"Oh, he's out, won't be back 'til tomorrow," said Dean (yes! That was his name!) with a shrug.

"Seriously? Man, that's so cool!"

"I suppose," said Dean without conviction, "Do you mind waiting around for a while? Only, I gotta make us dinner,"

"Sure, fine," Tommy went and watched TV while Dean made dinner and Sammy did his homework, without anyone even telling him to. Weird kid.

Dinner wasn't too bad, nothing on his mom's cooking, but then, not many things were. He enjoyed it there, he loved the overwhelming lack of girls in that house. He loved his family and all (though he wouldn't say it) but sometimes two sisters were just two sisters too many. Here, it was just boys making fun of each other, beating each other up, usual boy things. It was great.

After dinner they watched TV, well, Tommy and Dean watched, Sammy went back to work. Freak.

When it looked like there was nothing else on and after a slightly uncomfortable, bored silence filled only by the obnoxious voices of the commercials, Dean's eyes lit up.

"Dude! I got something to show you!" that made Sammy look up and stare at Dean in what could possibly be called horror. Must be something interesting then.

"Dean? What are you gonna show him?" said Sammy, "You'll get in trouble!"

"No, I won't, not if Dad doesn't find out," he look accusingly at his little brother. This definitely sounded like something interesting. Dean lead Tommy to his and Sammy's bedroom, Sammy was trailing behind still muttering his disapproval. Sammy watched from the door while Dean opened their closet.

It looked like a normal closet, with clothes hanging in it and boxes on the floor that usually held some junk that hadn't been thrown away yet. Not these boxes though. Dean pulled one out and opened it and whatever Tommy had been thinking before, he hadn't expected anything like that.

"I got it for my birthday," said Dean, eyes shining as he carefully picked up the gun, possibly some kind of rifle. He then launched into a long description of the gun and how well it handled, which Tommy might have remembered had he known anything about guns whatsoever. His family wasn't big into firearms.

Still, this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Can I hold it?" Dean nodded and passed him the gun and he held it awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with it.

"God, Sammy, haven't you got some work to be doing?" said Dean, but Sammy just stayed by the door, hopping nervously from foot to foot, suddenly reluctant to go back to the work he'd been happily doing since he got home from school. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. He then began instructing Tommy as to how to hold the gun.

"Hold that there and rest it here, like that, yeah," he gave Tommy time to settle the gun in its new position, to get comfortable with it. "Put that finger on the trigger, don't worry, it's not loaded, and look down there to aim," Tommy took a few moments to feel like he was doing the coolest thing in the world. He could be someone in a movie, shooting things and blowing things up. This was so cool. "Hey, watch where you're pointing it!"

"I thought you said it wasn't loaded,"

"It isn't. It's just, aiming it at people isn't a good habit to get into," Tommy lowered the rifle, then cautiously peered down the barrel. A dark hole that was potentially deadly. A sudden thought hit Tommy; how many people died with that being the last thing that they'd seen? Not a nice thought at all.

"Dean," Sammy whined, apparently unable to keep his worries under control any longer, "Dad'll get mad,"

"Dad doesn't have to find out," said Dean pointedly. Tommy looked between the two brothers, an outside observer of the tension between them.

"Dad always finds out," that apparently had some truth to it because Dean shut up and completely lost any hint of threat in his demeanour.

"Yeah, well, we'll be gone by Saturday, what does it matter?"

"You'll be what?" Dean turned to Tommy and smiled, there was a sadness behind the smile that really struck Tommy. It was odd because thirteen-year-old Tommy really wasn't one to notice those kinds of things.

"We're leaving this weekend, moving on,"

"We might not be!" Sammy interjected, quite defiant.

"Quit kidding yourself, Sammy, when was the last time you managed to change Dad's mind?" Sammy lost his defiance at this apparent truth.

"Where you going?" Dean shrugged half-heartedly.

"West somewhere," not helpful in the slightest because there was quite a lot of West to choose from.

"Why?"

"'Cause Dad said so," Tommy thought about it for a moment, not really fully grasping the reality of having to pack up your whole life and move on because it was just that mind-boggling.

"Man, that sucks," he said.

"Nah, you get used to it," Dean glanced at Sammy as he spoke.

"Dude!" said Tommy as the idea hit him, "Can I make up loads of crap about you after you're gone? Something better than those rumours going around school, like how you're, I don't know, an FBI agent or something with some seriously high-tech gear?" Dean laughed as he packed away the gun and Sammy wandered back to doing whatever the hell he wanted to. Probably work.

"Yeah, if I come back this way, I wanna hear about the legend of Dean Winchester: teen spy!" They went on in this vein for some time, making up crazier and crazier stories and then acting some of them out until the doorbell rang.

It was Tommy's mom, come to pick him up. Tommy really didn't want to go home, but he knew his mom wouldn't let him stay in a house he'd never been to before. She was overprotective like that. Just as Tommy was leaving, telling Dean that he'd see him at school tomorrow, his mom came out with the one question Tommy really didn't want her asking.

"I'd like to talk to your dad, Dean, where is he?" Tommy was going to get the telling off of a lifetime when she found out. But Dean surprised him. Without so much as flicker of his eye, Dean smiled,

"My dad's having a lie down right now, he's got a bad headache. He said not to disturb him, but if you really want-"

"Oh no, not if he's under the weather, never mind," and she'd let the subject go just like that. As Tommy followed his Mom back to the car he'd turned around and mouthed 'thanks, man' at Dean, who'd grinned back.

Was that really the guy who'd been caught attempting murder? Sure the guy might have had a troubled childhood, but psychopath? He really didn't seem the type. Not that Tommy had any experience with psychopaths.

Though, he had known Dean twelve years ago, at least. If you can call seeing him at school and going over his house once knowing him. Who knows what could have happened since then? Tommy was pretty bummed out for the rest of the evening.

By the next evening Dean Winchester (was that really his name? Tommy could have sworn it was something else) had been shot and killed. Tommy was left in a state of shock. He'd been shot by his brother in self defense. No charges were being pressed, no funeral, nothing. Tommy couldn't believe it, there'd been sibling rivalry, but he'd never thought that either Dean or Sammy could have turned against each other, it hadn't ever crossed his mind. He sat on his couch for almost half an hour, astonished.

What could make Dean attack Sammy, what could make Sammy shoot Dean? Nothing good, that was for sure. Tommy didn't want to think about it.

FIN

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