This story is AU – written before the events of season three. It doesn't conflict with anything yet, I think. It's another 'How Dean didn't go to hell' story (I'm sorry, but the plot bunny bites where the plot bunny bites). That doesn't mean that he gets away without a little angst.
This is my first multichapter effort. Advice nice.
Disclaimer: As always, I own no stick nor stone of the characters or their wacky televised adventures.
Chapter one – In which a dual time frame is established.
"Hello?"
"Hey. Who is this?"
"My name is Dr Cairns. To whom am I speaking? " It was an old man's voice, polite and authoritative. The use of the word 'whom' instantly annoyed Dean.
"You called me, dude."
"I'm sorry, this is a little odd. There was no name with the number, you see."
"How did you get my cell number?"
"One of my patients wrote it on a playing card. It's the only form of communication he's attempted in the week he's been here. Could I describe him to you, or can you get here to identify him? I'm speaking fro - "
There was the sound of violent activity on the other end of the phone. Dean Winchester narrowed his eyes against the glaring sun of Arizona as he stepped into the parking lot.
"Doctor Cairns? "
" He just broke into my office. The patient, our John Doe. He's given me the deuce of spades. It's another message, I think."
"What does it say?"
"'Tell him he's a jerk.' Does that mean anything to you?" There was a long pause. "Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"University Hospital, Berkley, California. Who-"
"My name's Dean Connor. I'll be there as soon as I can, I'm in Arizona, I don't know how long…. I'm on my way."
"Mr Connor?" Dr Cairns looked at the phone in perplexity as the dial tone filled the room.
"Well, that was strange."
Six months earlier"Sammy, get some clean clothes on. It's party night!" Dean moved hectically round the motel room, bouncing off the walls with undirected energy.
"I found a new lead." Sam didn't move.
"Oh for crying out loud. It's my last week on Earth! I wanna have some fun, a few beers, a little time with my brother, after which you can get back on to your dead-end lead." Inwardly Dean winced. That had come out a little harsher than intended.
Sam looked up from the laptop screen, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep.
"Christ." He pressed his palms onto his eyes, ran his hands down his face to cover his mouth.
"Yes. Okay. Let's go"
"Nuh-uh. First, you make yourself less skanky. You stink. Here –" he threw a bundle of clothes at Sam, who almost failed to catch them.
"Clean things. You remember clean? I'm going to get you some caffeine while you wash and change. Slob."
Sam headed for the bathroom, yawning. Okay, maybe, he'd let the washing thing go the way of sleep and meals. There was so little time left and he had to find some thing, some way out of Dean's deal before -. As always his mind blanked when considering what would happen if the deal went through. Denial is not just a river in Egypt.
He was going to find a way, whatever it took. Just in case, though, it would be good to spend some time with Dean. Really talk, for a little while.
SNSNSNSN
The club music was so loud Sam could feel his teeth vibrate. Dean leaned over with a shark like grin.
"She's checking you out!"
"What?"
"I said – ah, screw it."
"What?"
Dean slipped off his chair and danced into the crowd. Sam stared into space. Talk. Yeah. Before he stalked out the door he placed his half full beer neatly on the bar. Research was best done sober.
AN: Updating will be soon, cross my heart and hope to die. It will all make sense.