Title: Things in Common

Summary: A Petrelli sibling talks to a Winchester sibling about the loss of a brother.

Notes: Set during Season 2 of "Heroes," when Nathan is drinking when Claire calls him. My memory's fuzzy on the details of the scene, so apologies if it feels off. Set during Season 3 of "Supernatural."

"Don't call again," Nathan warned Claire before he ended the call on his cell phone. He returned to his Scotch, hunching over his glass tumbler in the dimly-lit, anonymous bar he had chosen to drown his sorrows in.

"Ex-wife?" a man's voice asked. Nathan turned to his right, seeing a young man in his late twenties sitting two stools over from him, a bottle of beer in front of him. He wore an untucked button-down green shirt that brought out his green eyes, and the spiked tips of his blonde hair gleamed under the bar's low-hanging lights.

"What?" the politician asked.

"On the phone," the stranger clarified. "Was that your ex-wife?"

"No. It was—" he broke off, unable even in his half-drunken stupor to bring himself to say the words "my daughter." "Nobody," he finished. "It was nobody."

"Right," the young man said with a nod, not believing him for a second. "So, what's your story, chief? Lost your job? Your savings? Bet on the wrong horse, maybe?"

"I lost my brother," Nathan blurted out before he could stop himself. "He's gone," he added much more quietly.

He kept his gaze focused on the amber liquid in his glass, but he heard the sound of shoes scuffing against the floor and then the young man's exhaled breath as he sat himself down on the empty stool next to Nathan's.

"I'm sorry," Nathan heard him say softly. "I know what that feels like."

"You know what the worst thing about it is?" Petrelli asked. "The worst thing is that I couldn't save him. And now, I'm here, and he's—God knows where."

"What, you don't think he's up in heaven, playing the harp?"

Nathan chuckled. "Peter? Oh, believe me, if there was anyone who'd be up there, it'd be him. No, I mean, I don't even know for sure if he's dead or alive. They didn't find his body."

The young man's eyebrows shot up. "Then what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out there looking for him? I mean, if it was me, that's what I'd be doing."

"I have looked for him," the older man countered. "But he could be anywhere by now."

"Then you keep looking," came the determined response. "You call in favors, bring in help. If there was even a chance that my brother was out there, alive, I'd never stop looking for him. Family, no matter how screwed up it is, is the only thing we've got."

Nathan nodded. "Family," he repeated to himself. He thought of Heidi and his boys, who he had driven away, his mother, who he refused to see, and Claire, who he could barely talk to. Without Peter, he was lost. He needed to find his brother.

He knocked back the rest of his drink, and then stood up from his seat. "Thanks for the advice," he told his companion. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Dean."

"Dean, I'm Nathan." He glanced at the younger man's beer bottle and pulled out his credit card. "Here, let me pay for your drink." He signaled the bartender and handed over his card.

"Oh, well, thanks. That's really…" Dean let his polite remark trail off, watching as Nathan signed the receipt. "Well, I've gotta get back on the road," he said, getting to his feet, "but I hope you find your brother."

"Thanks."

Dean clapped Nathan on the back once in a goodbye, before heading out to the parking lot, and getting into his Chevy Impala.

Once in the car, he turned to look at Sam, who was asleep in the passenger seat. Dean smiled fondly at his little brother, then started the engine and pulled onto the road.