Disclaimer: Not mine. Yet.
Timeline: Post Season 3 Spn, throughout Dark Angel.
Notes: This fic also accepts the conversation in SupernaturalGeek's Legacy as canon (storyid #4111583), because I don't see the point in writing it if it's already been writ, and also because it was better than what I would've come up with anyway. You don't have to have read it to understand, but I simply believe in pimping good work.
It had been eight days since Dean had died, and to say that Sam wasn't taking it well was an understatement.
He'd been on a three-day binge, partly because he needed to forget, and partly because he was fairly certain Dean would've been proud of him for lasting three days. Afterwards, he had helped Bobby put Dean on a pyre, and then he stared silently into the flames that had devoured all the family he'd ever had, and in Jess' case, hoped to.
He had moped around Bobby's ancient books day and night until the elder man had sent him on a case to take his mind off it. Bobby had gone along, of course. There's no sense on sending someone with a death wish on his own.
It hadn't helped.
They scraped out of the derelict haunting, bruised and bloodied and Sam went right back to researching a way to get a soul out of hell, Bobbys' pleas falling on deaf ears. A impenetrable wall had manifested around Sam's psyche, effectively blocking his ability to communicate with any degree of emotion. Not even the reminder that echoed through his mind that this wasn't what Dean would have wanted could sway him. Nothing could.
Except that one phone call.
It had been eight days since Dean had died, and to say that Sam wasn't expecting this phone call was a huge understatement.
Smoke on the Water had started wafting faintly through the house, which was strange enough to distract Sam from the text he'd been scouring. The only people Sam could think to ring Dean were both in the building staring at the coffee table like it was contagious. Slowly, Sam approached it and checked the display.
Lisa Braeden.
Exhaling a deep breath, he clicked answer and was greeted with a hiccoughed voice.
"Dean?"
"No, it's Sam. Dean's..." He shut his eyes. "Dean passed away."
"Oh. I... I'm sorry." It was a simple and expected reply but the overtones made it anything but. It wasn't sympathy that dominated her voice, but shock, which was closely followed by panic and tinged with regret.
Sam wasn't really in the mood to deal with whatever situation she was facing, and was about to politely end the call when an image flashed through his mind. A picnic, a smile, and the look on Dean's face as he listened to DreamLisa talk about picking Ben up from baseball. He sighed and resolved to give a chance to the woman who, despite Dean's protests, obviously meant a lot to him.
"What's wrong, Lisa?"
The sudden return to the conversation startled her, and he could practically hear her fumbling for a reply. "It's... it's nothing. Sorry," her voice started to break, "about Dean."
Sam made to reply, but a click notified him that he'd be talking to the blankness. He stared at the cell for a moment, seemingly transfixed by it.
Bobby, who had been watching the conversation, looked for an explanation. "Well?"
The inquiry snapped Sam into movement. "I gotta go." He snatched up some of his things that were lying about before disappearing up the stairs.
With the air of a person who was used to being ignored by Winchesters, Bobby sighed and called after him. "Where?"
Sam scuttled down the stairs, a bag over his shoulder. "Indiana."
And was out the door before Bobby could ask why.
--
When he'd pulled the Impala onto the Braeden's driveway, he paused to consider his actions. He didn't know why he'd rushed out here. It was impulsive and he wasn't even certain that something was wrong. Since Dean had died his mind had decided to shut down and he was running on automatic impulses. He'd driven across four states on a feeling before he'd finally realised what he was doing.
His instincts were confirmed though, when he saw Lisa open the front door. Her eyes were stained with tears and it took a minute to recognise him, which was fair considering they'd only been in each others' presence for a minute the last time.
Slowly, he exited the car and smiled in understanding. She stepped back and gestured for him to come in.
When they both stood awkwardly in the foyer she suggested coffee to which he politely agreed, but all that did was move the tension into the kitchen.
After several false starts on both fronts Lisa finally managed to look Sam in the eye, the piercing intensity of her expression drilling the need for Sam to understand what she said. "I'm really sorry about Dean." She shook her head, "I should have told him."
He was about to tell her that she didn't need to keep apologising as it wasn't her fault, when he caught the last little mutter. "Should have told him what?"
She froze, her hands trembling the pot that she held. "I.. just..." She sighed, her reply rushing out of her in he breath, as though it wouldn't get another chance. "Ben is Dean's."
Ben. So Sam was right. Had been right all along in fact. On some level Dean had known it too.
Standing here in Lisa's kitchen, the confirmation that he had suspected for a long time now had thrown him. Until he realised that the person who really needed to hear it wasn't here to.
Sam started to tune out as Lisa apologised again, his mind whirring a thousand thoughts a second. He was an uncle. Dean was a father. And he'd never know. Does that mean that he--woah, what?
Sam brought himself back to the conversation abruptly. He had the distinct feeling that he'd missed something important. Sam stuck the last two minutes on replay. Yes, Ben was Dean's. Lisa was sorry that she never told him. And now Ben was missing.
I'm sorry, what? "Ben's missing? How?"
With the earlier admission that she'd kept to herself for eight years, it seemed her gates had opened. She deflated, telling Sam everything. Every. Thing.
She told him how she was young and needed the money, so she signed up to this government program to help mother children for those who couldn't. She spoke of how they told her to obtain DNA from an attractive counterpart, and how she wasn't too receptive to the idea, until she found out just how much money she'd be getting.
It seems all the coin in the world couldn't sway her when the time came to hold up her end of the bargain though, and she had run away with both Ben and the money.
And lastly, she explained how she spent most of her wealth creating a new identity and how they never thought to check out one Elisabeth Braeden, who had arrived in Cicero two weeks after Lisa Braydon went missing. She resumed her previous life in the last place that they'd think to look, right under their noses.
Apparently it hadn't lasted though, as two weeks ago they'd burst into her house and taken Ben, leaving her with the knowledge that there wasn't anything she could do that wouldn't risk the life of her son.
Her story had pulled at him, and when she had finished he pulled her into a comforting hug. But that's as far as it went. A deep, gnawing resentment had appeared in him when he realised that she never told Dean the one thing that he deserved to know, even if she had lied to protect her son. But damnit, he was Dean's too, and he couldn't let the anger slide.
So he just stood there in a cold, detached manner that had shrouded him since he'd lost his brother, embracing her and not trusting himself to speak for what seemed like eternity.
When she finally composed herself enough to let go, there was a hope in her eyes as she looked to him. It was something he couldn't deny, because he was thinking the exact same thing she was: they had to get Ben back. Family was family and when you're a Winchester, that means a hell of a lot more than it does to most.
After some small conversation involving Sam's number and promise to call if anything came up, Sam left Lisa's and headed back to South Dakota.
He had work to do.
There you have it, kinda bland, kinda detached... but that's just they way Sam is at the moment. I dunno why. Surely he knows his brother's still under contract.