Fandom Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s) Brady, Dean, Jess, Sam; Sam/Jess
Genre Alternate Universe/Drama/Pre-series/Supernatural
Rating R
Word Count 3,985
Disclaimer Supernatural c. Kripke, WB, CW
Summary A lecture in psychology class leads to Sam extending an olive branch to Dean about a year and a half before the show begins.
Warning(s) language
Notes If I hadn't used the f-word as much as I did, this would probably be PG, but the cursing was warranted. Just a little "what if" story that popped into my head the other day. I thought about making this a multi-chaptered fic, but it just wasn't panning out.
The One That You Owe
The lecture was titled "When children lose their childhood" and Sam had been debating skipping it since he received his syllabus for Psychology 120 two months ago. The topic would be most applicable to his life out of all the special Friday lectures. If up to Sam, when given a choice between Basic Psychology or Philosophy 111 Ethics, he would pick Ethics every singe time especially since Ethics was required for his major. Yet, the young man in the middle of his eighth semester at Stanford was having trouble remembering why exactly he was going to put himself through this course as he looked at the lecture hall.
"You didn't have to wait for me out here you know." Slim fingers curled around Sam's bicep and soft lips kissed just under his jaw. Jess looked up at him and smiled. "Come on, after this we're free. We could walk down to the movies or something."
Sam nodded and let her lead him into the lecture hall. They took seats in the middle of the auditorium seating. The speaker that day was a woman of about forty-five with her dark hair piled up into a messy up do. Her voice was strong and firm, her pace not too fast or slow. She littered her lectures with examples and used media to her advantage. Sam found that even if he tried to half-listen it was impossible especially about half way through the lecture.
"One case I ran into a few years ago was a young man about twenty years old," the visiting psychologist stated, "let's call him…John."
Sam shifted in his seat and glanced at Jess. She was eating this up. Then again, psychology was integral to her major.
"When John was five years old, his mother died leaving him and his baby brother in the care of their father." Her eyes swept the lecture hall, trying to talk to the mass of students equally. "After a few months, their father took a job traveling about the country, often leaving the children in the care of strangers or alone." The psychologist continued, describing a fixation on pie that tied back to the days before the death of the boy's mother, how the child would care for the baby alone. Endless hotel nights alone, mishaps when trying to discover how to do domestic chores including an iron-shaped burn that was still faintly visible on the subject's hand even as a young adult." She continued onward, talking about impaired social development along with other things, tying this example back into previous examples.
The more Sam listened the more he began to sink in his chair. Every time her eyes found him, he felt blame, guilt, responsibility, but he had never met this woman and since her eyes never lingered he figured it was in his head. The girl sitting in front of him squeaked when his knee bumped her in the back. He hurriedly sat up a little more and Jess gave him a weird look.
"You okay?" Jess leaned over, placing he hand on his arm.
"Uh…" Sam shifted in his seat. "No. I'm going to hit the bathroom." Sam grabbed his bag as quietly as he could and quietly left the lecture hall by the back exit. He sat on a bench outside of the classroom. It was a five-thirty lecture so there were no students in the hallway. Sam looked out the floor to ceiling windows that showed the campus below. That example would not leave Sam's brain alone. Yet, since when would Dean even go to a psychologist?
The story was similar, although devoid of supernatural elements. Motels, strangers, even that weird scar on Dean's left hand, but Sam had never thought of Dean as anything but his older brother. Sam tried to think back, remember anything that would tell him this was definitely about his brother. He did not relish memories of before he finally broke free of the family before seventeen, but he really tried to think back. What were his first memories?
Jess sat down beside him. Sam had not even registered the students piling out of the doors at the top of the lecture room. He blinked and could hear the mass moving down the staircases towards the first floor and the exit from the lecture hall. "Hey."
"How are you doing, Sam?" Jess set her book bag in her lap, playing with the straps absently.
Sam considered where they were and what little he had told Jess of his family beyond he ran away when he was seventeen. He had not even had contact with Dean for a little over three or four years now. Dean probably had a different cell phone twenty times over by now. Sam heard the last student head down the stairway and then spoke quietly. "I grew up not knowing my mom…my dad wasn't' really ever around much."
Jess moved closer a little and set her bag down on the open space on the bench. "The lecture…if you didn't want to attend, you could have told me." She nudged him. "I'm a big girl. I can go to class on my own you know."
"I didn't think it would bother me." Sam did not want Jess to blame herself for his reaction. He nudged back. "But, I need to make a phone call…I think." He frowned. "I'll meet up with you at AMC at eight?"
"Alright." Jess stood up and kissed his temple affectionately. "Good luck, Sam."
Sam watched her go and then took his cell out of his pocket. It would take some doing, but he thought he could probably track Dean's number down. Sam remained in the lecture hall on the bench. He knew the janitors would come to clean up the building soon but he thought he might have a few minutes to himself before they reached the second floor. It took a bit of doing but Sam eventually was staring at Dean's cell phone number punched into his phone.
Sam glanced out the window and then hit the call button.
The phone was ringing. Dean groaned. He had just gotten to sleep and now this. Rolling over where he was stretched out in the impala, he opened his phone. "This better be a fucking emergency." He had just spent two days hunting down a big foot only to discover it was a couple of punks playing tricks, and then went on to have to save said punks from a zombie.
There was a long silence. Just before Dean could hang up, a hesitant voice asked, "Dean, is that you?"
"Sammy?" Dean sat up and almost smacked his head on the roof in his scramble. "Sammy, is that you?"
"It's Sam and yeah, it's me." He fell silent and then ventured, "Do you know a Dr. Kitchen?"
"A who?" Dean ran his fingers through his hair to make sure it was not matted down in any places.
"Leggy brunette with a New York accent," Sam rephrased, "knows that your 'jellyfish sting' is an iron burn."
Dean murmured, "Birthmark on her left breast?"
"She didn't show me her breasts, Dean." Sam was wondering if this was such a great idea after all. "Anyway, I was calling to ask if you wanted to come out to Stanford or something."
It was Dean's turn to grow quiet. "Sure." He was in the redwood forest after all. Same state so close enough. "Catch you tomorrow night?" He was not going to survive the drive if he did not sleep soon.
"Yeah," Sam agreed. He gave Dean directions to where he was living. "I'll let you sleep. See you then." Sam hung up.
Dean stared at his phone for the longest moment. He decided not to tell their dad Sam had made contact.
The next day found Sam sitting outside his dormitory with a large book about Mussolini for a history credit. He had sat out there for three hours already and he had yet to move from page 145. Every time a car passed, Sam looked up. When he heard a familiar engine, he froze. Last time Sam was around, the impala was their father's car. Sam's eyes pulled away from the print on the page of his book and held his breath. He only exhaled when he saw that the one person in the impala was his brother.
"See a ghost, Sammy?" Dean's features slipped into a snerk when he exited the car.
"You wish." Sam closed his book. He walked over to Dean and then grinned. "You shrink?" The last time he had seen Dean he was just a quarter inch shorter than his brother.
"Shut up," Dean muttered. "I'm twenty-five. I can grow." Yet, he had not budged in height for years now.
"Yeah out not up." Sam put a hand on Dean's head. He must be nearing three inches taller than his older brother was now.
"Did you call me out here to make fun of me or what?" Dean moved out from under Sam's hand and fixed his hair.
Sam shook his head. "There was a Dr. Kitchen who gave a psychology lecture yesterday. She used you as an example."
Dean snorted. "Never been to some head voodoo doctor. Don't need one." He put his hands in his pockets.
"Uh huh," Sam rubbed the back of his neck, "if you say so." Sam led the way back into the dormitory. "Want a soda or something?"
"Got any beer?" Dean's head turned to follow two girls walking by dressed for the warm spring afternoon.
"No." Sam rolled his eyes. "It's a dorm, Dean."
"So?" Dean's eyes kept watching the people around them more than where they were going.
"So, it's not allowed." Sam opened up his room and led Dean in. One side of the room looked like a tornado had hit it. The other half of the room was rather neat with the occasional sock o the bed or books tossed on the desk. Sam discretely kicked some smoking paraphernalia under his roommate's messy bed and went over to the small fridge. He handed Dean a soda can and took one for himself.
Dean settled into Sam's desk chair. "So you listened to some head doctor and decided to call me up? I should thank her I guess." Dean had been dreaming lately that the next time he saw Sam would be because his brother was some high-powered lawyer somewhere who had forgotten all his hunting knowledge and needed Dean to flush his house of ghosts or something.
"Something like that." Sam set his soda down and took a white case looking thing out of his pocket. He unwound some cords and plugged the into the device and passed it to Dean. "I've got the lecture paused at the part where she talks about you. Just hit play."
Dean took the device from Sam and turned it over. "Hit play where? What the hell is this?" Dean held up an earbud and frowned. "And what the shit is this? Some sort of electrode?"
"It's called an iPod and it's Brady's so you better not damage it." Sam put the earbuds in Dean's ears and hit play.
Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "My name's not John."
"They change names for legal purposes, just listen." Sam sighed and held onto the iPod. Brady would kill him if they broke the new device. It already froze at random and it was new.
Dean sighed and listened. His color drained after a few moments and his right hand absently rubbed the scar on his left hand. Dean shifted in his seat and then began cursing. "Get these fucking things off me." He tugged the earbuds out of his ears. Sam managed to save the earbuds before they could become too tangled.
"So you do know her." Sam began wrapping the earbud cords back around the iPod.
"I fucked her for a few days after you ran off on us yeah, but I didn't fucking…" Dean stood up and grabbed a bedpost tightly. "Fuck that…goddammmit…Who gave her the right to say any of that?" How many people had heard this? How many people could trace it back to him? Maybe only Sam, but Dean knew that anyone who knew their story could probably figure it out. He smacked his fist against the top of the bedpost.
"Can I interrupt this family drama or are you going to smash my bed down?" a voice asked from the doorway. The young man was tall and blonde with a lopsided smile.
"Sorry, Brady. Dean and I were just leaving." Sam grabbed their soda cans and shoved Dean's can into his hand. "Right, Dean?"
"Yeah, sure," Dean murmured and took a long drink from his can. His eyes were fixed on Brady. Something in his stomach was not sitting right and it had nothing to do with what he just heard on that iPad or iShit or whatever Sam had called that device. Dean passed by Brady and frowned. Once they were in the hallway, Dean started to walk faster than Sam. He tossed the mostly full soda can in a nearby trash bin.
"Dean?" Sam picked up his pace of walking.
"Didn't you notice?" Dean was making a beeline for the impala.
"Notice what?" Sam looked around when Dean popped the trunk. No one seemed to be paying attention to them.
Dean started filling a book bag with what he would need. "Your roommate reeks of sulfur. Are you losing your sense of smell?"
"Dean – Dean," Sam shut the trunk on Dean's bag, knowing his brother would move his arms out of the way in time. "You're not serious."
"Me? You're the one not serious. You know he's a demon?" Dean stared at Sam.
"He's not a demon! Dean, you can go somewhere, do things, and not have a hunt. You're just doing this because someone's going around telling people things about you even I didn't know." Sam shook his head. "Just calm down. We'll sneak into a bar somewhere and get you a beer or three and then cruise around or something."
Dean held Sam's gaze for a long moment. "I know what I smelled, Sam. I know what I sensed. You've only been out of the game for two years and you can't even recognize a demon under your nose?"
"He's not – "
"He is, Sammy." Dean opened the trunk, "And if he's not then he'll just get some holy water up the nose." Dean shouldered his bag and headed back to the dorm.
Sam sighed and trudged after Dean. "It's Sam, and don't pull out any artillery or something that will get me kicked out, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Dean murmured and entered Sam's dorm room. Brady was nowhere to be seen. Dean shut the door once both of them were back in the room. He pulled the rug up and took out some chalk.
Sam flopped down on his desk chair and watched his brother. "Dean, you better be the one cleaning that up."
"Yeah, yeah, after I exorcise the bastard." Dean carefully drew a devil's trap, double-checking himself before covering it back up with the rug. Once that was done, Dean settled into Brady's desk chair to wait.
"Dean," Sam ventured after a long moment, "what Dr. Kitchen sa – "
"We are not having this conversation." Dean kept his eyes on the door.
"Well when will we? Because I think it's something we need to talk about." Sam kept his eyes on Dean.
"Fine. I'm crazy. I lost my childhood whatever the fuck that means. There. Happy?" Dean's forehead creased.
"Dean, I know you're not crazy – "
"Then leave it at that."
"Dean – "
"Sammy, just drop it." Dean looked at Sam then. "It doesn't matter. The past is the past."
Sam opened his mouth but before he could press, the door opened and Brady walked in, followed by Jess. "Hey, Sam, look who followed me up." Brady stopped over the devil's trap and Jess waved slightly.
"I hope I'm not interrupting something?" She walked deeper into the room and sat down on Sam's bed. Dean's eyes moved from her toes to her shoulders and then kind of lingered somewhere in the middle where her shorts turned upward ever so slightly.
Sam glanced at Dean who tilted his head in Brady's direction. Sam looked back at Jess. "Actually…no. Uh, this is my brother Dean. Dean, this is my girlfriend," Sam took great care to emphasize that word, "Jess."
"I'll tell you what," Dean said and let his eyes drift to Brady, "since it's noon, I'll take you crazy kids to lunch."
"You don't have to," Jess said. "You're visiting so we can pick it up."
"No, no," Dean shook his head, "I insist." He stood up and Sam followed suit. "Why don't you and Sammy head out to the impala and I'll catch up? I want to finish a conversation I was having with Brady earlier." He smiled so it reached his eyes and turned the Winchester charm up to warm and loveable instead of sleazy sex time.
Sam gave Dean a look and then ushered Jess from the room. "Well, don't take too long."
"I'm talking to him not blowing him," Dean griped and once Sam and Jess were gone, Dean closed the door and looked at Brady. "Can't move, can you, you bastard?" Dean reached into his bag, retrieved a weathered paperback, and opened to the bookmarked page.
"You're going to exorcise me and you don't even know the rite?" Brady snorted.
"Better to get it right than fuck it up." Dean began to circle Brady, chanting in Latin as best he could. He stumbled as he read in places but the more he chanted the stronger and more correct the chant became.
"You know, Dean, your brother knows I'm a demon." Brady's eyes followed Dean. "He's known for a long time now. He's okay with it," Brady writhed slightly as Dean made another circle around him, "and sometimes…I let him drink me." Then the demon expelled from Brady, flying out of the room through the cracked window. Brady's body crumbled to the floor unconscious.
Dean nudged the younger man's arm with his shoe. "Still alive?" He glowered towards the cracked window where the demon smoke escaped and then headed out to catch up to Sam and Jess. He knew demons lied and Sam was smart, but as he approached the car, he had to wonder if Brady's demon was telling the truth.
Jess was exactly six years younger than Dean was and somehow tolerated Dean's lie about Brady deciding to stay behind even though both she and Sam knew there were no classes on Saturdays. "So are you going to come back up in two months for Sam's birthday?" she asked.
Sam and Dean exchanged looks where they sat across from each other at the table. Jessica sat just to Sam's right. "I don't know yet. My job might have me across the country by then." Both brothers' plates were loaded with fries and burgers while Jessica had a tuna salad sandwich and some potato wedges. Apparently, Brady had introduced Jess to Sam at a Halloween party last semester and the two had been dating since January. Dean's eyes flickered back to Jess. He had switched out her fork for a silver one at some point but there she sat eating normally. Maybe Brady was the only supernatural creature in Sam's life but Dean thought that was just a hopeful wish.
Dean's phone rang and both brothers froze. "I'm going to take this outside." Dean stood up and shuffled out of the campus café.
Sam leaned back in his chair and let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He still had not told Dean anything he wanted to convey to him and maybe that was how it was supposed to go. It would be rather chick flicky to apologies for being a brat face who did not even realize how much Dean did for him growing up. Now that he had time to sleep on it, simple the fact he was a virgin who could have this fledgling monogamous relationship with Jess whereas Dean was king of the one-night stands since Sam was eleven showed something. Although maybe it still would have been this way even if their dad had been available and their mother had lived.
Jess reached over and squeezed Sam's hand. "Your brother is an interesting person." She looked to Sam. "I still like you most."
Sam smiled a little and squeezed her hand back. "I – "
"That was Dad. I have to head out." All Dean had received were some coordinates on a text message, but that was not unusual. Dean popped about five fries into his mouth and wrapped what remained of his burger and fries into the paper lining of his basket. "You got my number, right, Sammy?"
"Yeah." Sam stood up. "Let me walk you to the car, okay?"
"Sure." Dean stuffed the greasy mass of half-eaten food into his pocket so he could walk out with it. He gave Jess a small wave.
"I'll be back," Sam promised the nineteen-year-old at the table and then followed his brother out of the campus café. They walked a few steps towards the parking lot where the impala sat.
"You want to say something girly, don't you?" Dean squinted against the bright spring light.
"It's not girly." Sam put his hands in his pockets. They stopped by the impala. Sam turned to look at Dean. "I just want to say I'm sorry."
"For what?" Dean leaned against his car and looked around at the people in the parking lot. No one was close enough to eavesdrop.
"For running off on you." Sam shifted his weight. "You've done a lot for me and I just didn't notice."
"Sammy – " Dean caught Sam's gaze and amended, "Sam," he paused, "you told me this wasn't going to be girly." Dean moved towards the driver's side door.
"It's not," Sam rolled his eyes, "but I can make it girly if you want a comparison."
"I don't." Dean opened the door and then looked up at Sam. "Watch your roommate. That demon might come back."
"Dean – "
"I'm serious, Sam. That poor bastard is going to get jumped again. You don't want a demon living with you." Dean leaned on the roof of the car and held Sam's gaze.
They stared at each other a long moment and then Sam sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I'll keep an eye on Brady. You left him alive somewhere, right?"
"Yeah this time." Dean watched Sam. "Next time I won't." He frowned. "If demons are going to get close to you, I'm not going to let them. If you don't like my methods then keep an eye out and keep yourself safe on your own. You're a hunter, Sam, like it or not and if you don't hunt, I'll have to hunt for you."
Sam opened his mouth and then shook his head. "I'll do what I can." He did not like what Dean was saying but if he really wanted to help Brady, he had to keep an eye open to things he wished to stay blind to. Also, if a demon had possessed Brady, then maybe something could poses Jess and if that happened Sam would not be able to live with himself.
"You got my number. I'll let you know when it changes." Dean got into the car.
"Alright." Sam stepped away from the car. He watched Dean pull away and disappear from sight. Sam stood there a long moment and tried to clear his head before going back to Jess. If he wanted that normal life, he was going to have to fight for it.
The End