2013
"You want that last slice?" Dean asks across the metal kitchen table of the bunker while pointing to the lone piece of pizza left in the box between them.
"Have at it," Sam simply answers, wiping his mouth with a cheap paper napkin as he stands up.
Dean just smiles to himself. He grabs the slice hastily and takes a huge bite.
"You talk to Lizzy?" Sam asks as he picks up the trash from their dinner and takes it to the bin in the corner of the big mess hall-style kitchen, it starting to overflow yet he does nothing about it. He'll take it out before he gets nagged.
"Yeah," Dean answers through his bite, looking across the metal island at him. "They got in an hour ago."
"Nice of Lou to let me know," Sam lightly complains, having never head from her.
"Eh, probably figured I'd tell you." Dean shrugs it off.
"Nice work on that," Sam gripes lightly, smirking on his way to the antique icebox built into the wall.
"They decided they're staying for an extra day," Dean tells him, ignoring the sarcasm. "Which works out. If we go after that possible vamp nest in Idaho, we'll get back before they do."
"If the hunt goes our way you mean?" Sam comments, peeking into the refrigerator. Dean nods once when his mouth is too full to speak in answer. "When was the last time that actually happened?"
Dean shrugs. "Dunno."
"Try never," Sam laughs.
"Looks like a small nest though," he says before swallowing his food. "Could handle this in our sleep."
"So why don't we send out someone else on this?" Sam suggests. "Stay here. Get some research done."
"You mean research you don't want your wife knowing you're doing?" Dean challenges.
"Shut up," he says back sharply, feeling the weight of his omission. "And Lizzy's cool with you hunting for no other reason than to hunt?" he questions with a healthy amount of skepticism.
Dean looks away and takes another big bite, not answering. Guilty.
"I knew you didn't tell her before she left," Sam gets mad. "Dean…."
"Sam, I know. Okay? I know." Dean finishes his bite to defend himself. "We talked about me hunting. She's the one that said I shouldn't hunt unless it had to do with the Trials… which she's super pissed at you for not telling Lou about still."
Now Sam looks guilty. "I'll tell her when she gets back." His brother huffs in disbelief. "I will. I just didn't want to ruin their first trip back home in a long time. And this all just happened. I need some time with it myself."
Dean gets quiet for a moment, still upset that Sam is the one taking this on. "I still think we should find another hellhound and let me kill this one…."
"Not gonna happen," Sam shakes his head in refusal. "What's done is done. And I know I can do this."
"I know you can too, Sammy," Dean wrinkles his forehead, and takes another bite, ending the statement there.
And Sam knows it isn't that Dean thinks he can't handle the Trials. He knows it's just that old big brother act rearing its head. Dean's gotten better at letting Sam do his thing and worrying less as he has his own wife and son to think about and focus on. But sometimes… sometimes he's still just simply a big brother like always.
"Well, when you get sent to the dog house for not telling her, which you know is gonna happen, then I guess I'll be meeting you there," Dean bitches a little.
Sam huffs a laugh. "So, you're going behind Lizzy's back instead of grabbing your balls and telling her?"
"Hey! Not telling Lizzy that I'm going vamp hunting has nothing to do with my manhood, okay?" Dean points out, offended. "I'm just avoiding unnecessary conflict."
"You're being a wimp," Sam calls him out.
"And you're not?" He cocks an eyebrow at him in challenge.
Sam sighs with more guilt as he brings two bottles of beer to the table and sits back down. He places both bottles on the table and Dean picks them up one at a time, popping them with a silverware knife. Dean passes one back to Sam and they clink bottles.
"To the dog house," Sam smirks, knowing they're both cooked.
"Woof," Dean answer back flatly and gulps down a healthy amount of beer. After he swallows he sighs, "Ah. Well, upside of the wife and kid being away, I can drink like I want to…."
Dean's thought gets cut off when a bright light blasts through the room as the longest door of the old fashioned icebox flies open sharply, the door slamming into the wall with massive force. The light bursts brighter as a body is launched through the open doorway, the form flying through the air a few feet and landing hard on its side. The person then skids with force until it hits the metal table Dean and Sam are sitting at, back first. The open icebox door then slams shut, putting the room into calm silence once more. The whole abrupt moment ends as quickly as it began.
"Ugh… ow…."
With just a quick glance at each other, the brothers stand up sharply. Sam grabs a big butcher knife off the kitchen island near him and holds it out, prepared for anything, as Dean pulls his trusty handgun out from behind his back. He aims at the intruder that's groaning in pain on the floor as he thanks his lucky stars that he planned to head to the awesome shooting range he found in the basement yesterday after he finished dinner.
"Jesus… that sucked so hard," the young man's voice groans from the floor, clearly still hurting as he rolls onto his side and grabs his back.
"Get up," Dean directs, his voice commanding and showing immediately that he means business. He flicks the safety off of his gun, getting a really bad feeling about this situation.
"Ugh, wait. Hold on," the man answers, shifting slowly to his knees before getting up, a hand pressing onto the edge of the table for assistance. "Damn. Wasn't ready for that kinda entrance," he laughs a little, looking at Sam and then Dean. "Hey, guys."
"Is this what it's gonna be like living here? Dudes falling out of our appliances?" Dean asks Sam with a little panic. They just found this place.
"Who are you?" Sam booms out in his best, most intimidating voice as he ignores his brother for now. The knife in his hand is held out at the ready, his stance prepared for a fight.
"Okay, can you put the weapons away?" the younger man asks, attitude full out. "I know you guys are all cautious and paranoid and all but seriously, it's a bit much."
"You just flew out of our fucking icebox. I'll put the gun away when I'm ready," Dean comments before repeating Sam's question. "Who are you?"
"Relax…."
Dean cocks his gun when the young man takes a step towards him. "Don't move." The man freezes mid-step and holds out his hands in surrender. "Let's try this again. Who are you?"
"Put the gun down and I'll tell you," the smartass says back, smiling in a cocky manner.
Before he knows it, Sam's crept up behind him. Grabbing the intruder swiftly up under his arms and locking his hands around the back of the intruder's head, Sam gets him immobile quickly and Dean steps right up to him.
"See…" Dean starts, grabbing a fistful of the man's t-shirt in one hand as he presses the barrel of his gun to the guy's forehead right in the center. "You're the one that just… poofed out of a wall in my home. Tell me to relax again and it's lobotomy time. When we ask a question, you answer. Capisce?"
"Fuck, you have not changed," the guy answers with a slight smile, still keeping his confident ways in the face of possible death.
"Buddy, I'd lay off the attitude," Sam warns from behind him and tightens his grip.
"Ow. Okay! Okay! Jesus, sorry," the guy rolls his eyes. "Ask a damn question then."
"Why the hell are you jailbreaking our kitchen?" Dean asks right off.
"Well… technically I'm not jailbreaking your kitchen if I'm breaking into your kitchen," he tries to logic, not meaning to be more annoying.
Dean's not amused. "Answer!"
"I need your help… you and Sam's," he answers simply.
"I'm sorry, do we know you?" Sam asks with confusion.
"Uh… kinda…."
"What do you need help with?" Sam questions, hold not letting up.
"Saving my mom," he spills quickly.
"You're mom?" Dean pulls the gun off his forehead but keeps it aimed. "Why?"
"Because I'd rather not lose her," the guys answers. "She's in trouble and I need help fixing her."
"Why would we help you save your mom?" Sam asks, loosening his grip to a less painful place when he knows there's a real reason for this young man to be here. And honestly, if there's going to be a soft spot for the Winchesters it would be mothers.
"Because that's what you do?" he answers with an attitude once more. "Saving people? Hunting things? Sound familiar? You need to help me."
"How the hell do you know about that?" Dean wonders, his heart beginning to pound. This person knows about their family, clearly. And as Dean stands there and really looks at his face something is making Dean itch. He looks too familiar.
"Because… you've said those words to me before," he answers easily enough. "When I first started hunting."
"Me?" Dean asks, surprised. "I don't even know you."
"Oh my god, seriously?" he asks with shock, pointing at his own face while Sam still has him restrained. "This doesn't look familiar to you?"
"Am I supposed to remember every kid I come across?" Dean snaps back
"No… but I figured you'd recognize your own."
Dean takes a step back, lowering his gun immediately. Staring at the face before him, it all clicks. The eyes. The lips. The stance. The clothes. The attitude. "Sammy?"
"About time, dad," Sammy bitches at his father before turning his head to the side the little that he can. "You mind letting up a little, Uncle Sam?"
Wide eyed, Sam lets him go. When the kid turns around he can clearly see now that it's his nephew he's looking at… yet he's much older. "How…? But you're three!"
"Oh, come on!" Sammy huffs a laugh. "How many times have you both time traveled? You think that's exclusively for you two?" Sammy brushes off his jeans and straightens his army green canvas jacket. "I have my ways."
"Wait… how old are you?" Dean asks him, not processing what's happening.
"Twenty-two. I'm coming from the year 2033."
"Okay…." Dean's not sure what to make of all this.
"Hold on," Sam suddenly gets alarmed. "You said you need help saving your mom?"
"Yeah, I do," Sammy nods, picking up his backpack from the floor now that the big reveal is done. His bag fell off while being launched into the room. He drops in onto the metal table.
"Hold up," Dean shakes his head. "How do I even know you're my son for sure? You could be a shifter… or a demon… or…."
"A million other things," Sammy finishes for him, pulling out a water bottle. He takes a big sip from it, the rosary beads floating around in it catching the two seasoned hunter's eyes. Sammy doesn't sizzle or react. He then pulls out a small flask, unscrews the cap, and pours some salt into his hand. No reaction once more. He then shakes out his hands to rid them of salt and pulls a silver knife out of the back of his pocket.
He flips it open, watching Dean and Sam both flinch when the weapon appears.
"Chill, guys," Sammy tells them calmly, moving slowly to make sure they can trust him. He pulls his sleeve up and makes a shallow cut in the skin of his arm. It bleeds red like a normal human. He then looks between the two brothers. "We good now?"
Dean's face immediately darkens as he pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket. He hands it to Sammy on autopilot as he asks, "What's wrong with L?" His heart is already beating rapidly with the idea that something could be off with his wife.
"Uh… it's kinda complicated," Sammy tells him while wrapping up his cut, not sure how to break the news. When done, he unzips his pack and pulls out a fairly new yet well-loved leather journal.
"Sammy, what's wrong with your mom?" Dean tries again with a little more insistence in his tone, his urgency clear.
Sammy sighs and sits down at the table. He picks up one of the ditched beers and takes a big sip.
"Hey, whoa… no way," Dean shakes his head and swipes the beverage from his son without thinking.
"Dude… I'm twenty-two. Legally, you can't tell me not to drink," Sammy remarks quickly, grabbing the other left behind beer and drinking from that.
"You better start explaining," Dean warns him in his fatherly tone.
Sammy huffs a laugh, disgusted with his life and how it's going back in his own time. He drops the bottle back onto the table, fisting it in two hands before looking up at his father. "Mom got herself into some trouble. And… the outcome is bad."
"How bad?"
"Really bad."
"Is she alive?" Sam asks, getting scared.
"Kind of," Sammy nods.
"But kinda not?" Dean wonders.
Swallowing hard, knowing he's about to crush his father, Sammy answers. "Mom, she's…." He stops, the pain clear on his face. He's been dealing with this for years and it's never gotten easier, not even a little.
"Sammy? What?" Dean asks, his heart racing with fear.
"Dad… mom's a demon."