What Isn't and Can Never Be
Summary: AU. Spoilers for Season 1. always-a-girl!Dean. Eventual Wincest. Het!Wincest at that.
Author's Note: First time SPN writer here. All rights belong to Eric Kripke. Also I did use various lines from the actual episodes, too. I acknowledge this has probably been overdone before, but I couldn't resist writing my own genderbend story and changing a few things. I'll just say probably 80% will remain faithful to the actual seasons as this progresses so it goes without saying there will be other pairings.
Sam wakes up the moment the downstairs window creaks open. The same window where he'd purposefully decorated the sill with Jessica's childhood keepsake ornaments in case of a burglary. No matter how stealth, supernatural or not, the small figurines would be impossible to get around. So when the sound of glass breaking reaches his ears, he knows. Jessica'd rolled her eyes at his paranoia, but she can't understand because she doesn't know about the things he's known about since he was five. She doesn't know about the hidden stash under the floorboards where he keeps his old hunting rifle along with rounds of salt, silver bullets and bags of salt. She doesn't know about the devil traps under the rugs of every entrance, or the small bottle of holy water he keeps in the nightstand drawer, disguised in an inconspicuous bottle of vodka. And she certainly doesn't know about the silver knife with ancient runes etched onto both sides of the blade that could make a demon coil in pain when sliced into the flesh of the human it possesses.
"Sam?" Jess' blue eyes are wide and she feels him stiffen when she reaches for his hand. "What is it?"
"If I'm not back in ten minutes, call the police," he tells her. Jess nods, reading his expression and somehow instinctively knows that now is not the time to argue.
The moment he reaches the bottom of the stairs is when it happens. Suddenly, without warning and before he can even fight against it, there's a solid weight on his chest and a pair of hands holding his arms down, the knife he'd managed to grab without Jessica noticing skirting out of his grasp and falling uselessly to the floor. He blinks when the intruder's blonde long hair smacks him in the face as she leans over him, and when he finds himself staring into dark moss-green irises, his breath falters.
"D-Deanna?" he chokes out, every muscle in his body that was straining, squirming against her, instantly stops, as if his strings had been cut off. Relief floods him. The amulet around the girl's neck confirms it.
The girl above him who can't weigh more than even half of his body mass, yet manages to keep him steadily pinned down, smirks. "You always did have terrible reflexes, kiddo."
Without a second thought, he pulls her to him, panic gone and now replaced with overwhelming happiness. Her frame seems more fragile now than he can ever remember. It scares him to realize his older sister could ever feel so small in his arms.
"Sammy," her voice is hoarse, whether from drinking or lack of sleep he's unsure, perhaps both, he decides. He releases her when he notices how long he's been holding her and that it must feel awkward. Without a word they both stand up and collect their bearings and just stare at one another. Sam immediately picks up on the fact she's wearing their father's old leather jacket, her jeans are torn at the knees, and her hand is bandaged. Her hair is longer (which Sam is admittedly perplexed at; Deanna always said long hair would get in the way while she hunted). Her face is thin, her lips red and raw as if she had been recently chewing them. An old nervous habit Sam remembers.
In seconds overwhelming happiness becomes panic once again. There is no good reason for his sister's unannounced, unexpected visit in the middle of the night. Not in the Winchester family, and certainly not when they haven't seen each other in four years and Sam honestly never thought he would see his father or sister on good terms again.
He always suspected that, if and when they contacted each other, it would be for bad news. Deanna's thin, gaunt appearance says it more than words could express.
"Where's Dad—"
"Sam?" Jess' worried tone from above them cuts Sam off.
Deanna's mouth drops open when she notices Jessica standing at the top of the stairs. Sam turns around and is stunned himself. Jess is only wearing her girl boxers and night shirt, which cuts off at the midriff, the Smurfs emblazoned on the front.
"Well, well, Sammy, glad to see you're no longer a bookworm and actually took my advice." Deanna eyes the taller girl appreciatively. Sam rolls his eyes. Sometimes, he thinks it's all a bluff the way his older sister always makes a show that she prefers the same sex.
Jessica looks confused for a moment when she hears a stranger call her boyfriend Sammy, but then before Sam can explain, she blurts out,
"Deanna? You're Deanna Winchester?" Jessica's tone is incredulous. Disbelief.
Deanna grins, and Sam swears his sister is blushing. "In the flesh, and at your services, darling."
Jess doesn't even acknowledge her scantily clad appearance is affecting his sister nor that Deanna is blatantly hitting on her. Jess practically accosts Deanna into their kitchen to fetch her a beer, insisting his sister sit down at the table. Sam is a little perturbed how she starts firing off questions like a negotiator. Deanna looks amused but answers them politely. Jess is normally very reserved around new people but around Deanna she's overly animated, inspecting his sister like she would one of her ailing patients. Sam knows it has more to do with the fact there's still so much he hasn't told Jess about his family that must leave her curious.
"I never thought I'd meet you," Jess is saying when Sam zones back into their conversation, "Sam's told me a lot about you, I kind of feel like I already know you."
Deanna's in mid gulp when she chokes. Sam averts his gaze.
"Ah, well," Deanna coughs, gazing down at her beer and looks back up, not even blinking an eye before she blurts out, "no offense sweetheart, but I really need to talk to my brother. Alone."
Jessica's expression turns from curiosity to hostility in seconds. "Well, sweetheart, sorry to disappoint you, but I love your brother and I'm not leaving any time soon."
"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it front of her," Sam grits out, amazed how rude his sister can be sometimes. Normally he wouldn't care, in fact, he often would appreciate how cut to the chase skip the bullshit niceties his sister can be. It's something he's always admired about her and wishes he had the guts to do more often himself. He understands Deanna is here to deliver bad news, but that doesn't mean she can disrespect the woman he loves. Though it is nice to hear Jessica out loud tell someone else besides him, she loves him, it's awkward. Because Deanna loves him too, and she actually knows the real him, and everything about him, and Jessica doesn't. He's not so sure if Jessica would even want to be with him anymore if she knew.
If Deanna's taken aback with his comeback or Jess', she doesn't let it show. She looks him in the eye when she says calmly, "Dad's missing, Sam. I haven't seen or heard from him in three weeks."
"So?" he says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Dad's always left on trips for months on end, he's probably working."
"Dad is on a hunt, Sam," Deanna's green eyes are hard and serious. "The hunt. I haven't heard from him in three weeks, you know even for Dad that's suspicious—"
"Hunt?" Jess picks up. Sam stiffens. There were always hunts, but there was always the hunt. The one that started it all.
"Y-Yeah, he enjoys hunting for recreation. Deer, fishing, birds," Sam explains. "Old man is stubborn. He'll out camp for months, no civilization."
Deanna shoots him a look that plainly says, Really think she's gonna buy that?
Jessica nods, turning back to Deanna in sympathy. "You obviously care a lot about your dad. You need to Sam to go with you to help find him, right?"
Deanna's eyes flicker for a moment with an emotion he's never seen on his sister's face and somehow Jessica can read it clear as day.
"Well you wouldn't be here this late for a social visit," Jessica says matter-of-factly. "Deanna, have you contacted the police yet? Filed a missing person report?"
Sam almost regrets not asking Jessica to leave. He's not sure if he can lie his way out of this one. How best to explain to your girlfriend you can't contact the police because the police can't do jack shit when it comes to the supernatural, and that will only put the authorities on their father's trail, the very last thing the man would want.
"I did." Sam knows instantly she's lying, and he's thankful his sister is covering his ass, like she always has since he could remember. "After a week and no response, I contacted me and Sammy's Uncle Bobby, he's a family friend and a retired federal agent. He's had all his friends searching for our Dad."
"Dee, there's not much we can do then. Bobby's the best for this sort of thing." He wants to swallow the bile rising in his throat. This was bad. Very bad. Deanna would never call Bobby Singer except as a last resort. His sister is way too prideful for her own good to admit needing assistance. He can see the raw desperation in her eyes now when she stares at him, green eyes weary with emotion.
Both Winchesters are too lost in their own separate thoughts to notice Jessica has left the kitchen. And before he knows it, he's back in their bedroom after telling his sister to give him ten minutes to talk to his girlfriend, sort things out and if he's not outside in ten minutes, to leave without him. He is honestly torn. Between the life he wants and the life he no longer wants to be apart of, the life he ran away from four years ago and now it's being forced down his throat again. He's not mad at his sister, if anything, seeing her reminds him of how much he misses her and wishes he'd never left. But his sister, like their father, has embraced the hunter's life fully. Although he loves his sister, he's not a hunter.
"You have to go," Jessica tells him before he can open his mouth as he walks through the doorway of their bedroom. Not more than two hours ago they had fell asleep together wrapped in each other's arms after visiting the local bar a few blocks down, in celebration of his LSAT score and her admittance to medical school. "That's your sister out there. Who drove goodness how long to get here. Palo Alto is a long drive from Louisiana, and it took her three weeks to even contact you? Poor girl obviously has tried hard to avoid this. She didn't want to involve you but now she needs your help."
"God, Jess, I love you," he breathes and he does, but this is his sister, who has never asked for help, and has certainly never begged for help like she had downstairs. He's grateful that Jess is not making this harder than it already is. "Besides, knowing my Dad he probably took a long trip with Jose, Jack, and Johnny." Somehow it's become way too easy to lie his father is an alcoholic than outright just telling her.
He wants to. Sam promises himself he will. He just can't decide when. Deanna's probably already outside by now, sitting in the Impala impatiently waiting. Counting the minutes. Now's obviously the worst time.
Jessica helps him pack quickly, selecting the appropriate clothing to go hunting. She tells him she'll contact all his professors if he's not back on Monday and postpone his interview too. While she's in the bathroom gathering his shaving kit and toothbrush, he manages to pack his rifle, knife, and handgun in his duffel before she can walk back in.
"Jess, I promise, when I get back, I'll tell you everything." He can read her concern easily, and moreover, he can tell that she knows he's hiding something. He always has and she's not pushed it. Yet. But he realizes now more than ever none of this has been fair to her. He really needs to stop being a damn coward already.
"Oh you most definitely will," she agrees, smiling sadly. "But don't worry about me right now. Just concentrate on taking care of your sister and finding your father. Look, I'm not completely stupid. I know your family and you parted on shitty terms and you both have a lot to be sorry for. Do whatever you have to do to straighten that out, and come back home to me, Samuel John Winchester, or I swear to god I'm leaving you next time you take off with another woman in the middle of the night, sister or not."
He lays a kiss on the corner of her mouth and tells her he loves her, and promises to call everyday.
The black 67' Chevy Impala's familiar purr hits his ears the moment he steps outside. The hinges creak loudly when he opens the passenger door and dumps his bag in the backseat before climbing in. The glove compartment is a lot closer to his knees from the last time he sat here. Deanna glances over, and he can tell she's both relief and surprised to see him sitting next to her.
"I have an interview on first on Monday," he tells her.
"A job interview? Skip it."
"It's an interview for law school, my whole future on a plate," he clarifies.
Deanna laughs.
"Look Dee, I'm not sure if I'll even be much help."
"Sam, shut up for a second and listen," Deanna tosses her phone at him without warning and he barely catches it in time, "listen to the last voicemail."
Knowing it's pointless to argue, he does so. The date on the recording is yesterday, and it's their dad. Initially he's confused why she didn't say anything earlier in the kitchen, but then he gets to the point where the message cuts in and out.
"You know there's EVP on that?"
"Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" She takes back her phone and presses a button, "All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got."
She presses play and it's clearly the voice of a woman.
"I can never go home," he repeats.
"You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."
"I know," he looks away for a moment, closing his eyes. "Dee, I haven't hunted in over four years."
"You're still a hunter, Sammy. You were trained and brought up just like me by Dad. You may have sloppy reflexes, but you always were smarter than Dad and me. You don't think I didn't notice the devil traps? The salt lines on the windows? I know you. I bet you keep your weapons under the floorboards too. I know you've been living with Jessica for nearly two years and she has no idea who you really are. So, Sammy, do us both a fucking favor and don't try to lie to me because you can't lie for shit."
Deanna turns away first, staring intently at the steering wheel like it's the most riveting sight ever but he knows she's just lost in her thoughts and building her walls back up. Deanna Winchester doesn't do outbursts like that, and that's the most she has said to him all night, hell, the most in years. Suddenly he feels like a little kid again who just got put in his proper place. God, it was scary as hell how not even their ex-Marine father could not do that as effectively as she could. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and lets out a deep sigh.
He breaks the awkward tension first, choosing his next words carefully and softly. "Just so we're clear: you are bringing me back first thing Monday morning, no matter if we find Dad or not. So we got a deal or not?"
Deanna glares at him once last time before putting the car in reverse and barreling out of the driveway of the student housing complex, turning on the radio loud and Sam figures that's as close to a yes he'll get.