Palo Alto, November 4th 2005
The impala rumbled into the parking lot of a hospital, and 26-year-old Dean Winchester stepped out in his FBI uniform. He'd say this was just another case, but it really wasn't. This wasn't a ghost or vampire, werewolf or ghoul. This was more personal. Two days ago it had been the twenty-second anniversary of the house fire at his home, the fire that killed his mother and baby brother. He was only four years old at the time and so didn't remember much. A lot of details had been filled in by his father, but he remembered enough himself. He remembered the fire, the heat, the glimpse of his mother on the ceiling. But the most vivid memory of all was carrying his baby brother outside.
His brother hadn't died in the fire itself, it was the effects of it that had killed him. He'd seemed fine, a little shaken, but fine. But he never left the hospital. All three Winchesters had been sent to the hospital to be checked over. Dean remembered being left alone in his room while his father told him he would take Sam to be checked over. Next thing the four year old knew, he was being dragged from the hospital and driven away in the Impala without his little brother in tow. The little boy had asked his father several times before his father snapped at that his brother was dead. He spared on the details, saying only that he had taken in too much smoke. Dean hadn't spoken for days, weeks, after that. It shook him up enough that he'd lost his mother, to lose his beloved brother just moments after was too much for him.
Two days ago, on the anniversary of the fire, another fire happened. Another woman had burned alive on the ceiling, or so her boyfriend claimed. This time, it was a student at Stanford University. Her boyfriend was lucky to be alive. He was being discharged from the hospital after suffering burns and smoke inhalation, so Dean figured he'd catch him before he left.
He found the boy sat on his bed, ready to go, a lost, heartbroken expression on his face. He was tall and lean with a long, boyish haircut. Bangs that chicks seemed to dig. He looked unscathed besides a few Band-Aids and a patch over his neck where he'd sustained a severe burn. The boy flinched as Dean cleared his throat and entered the room.
"Uh, hi. Name's Agent Harrison, FBI, got a couple questions about the fire," Dean nodded respectfully, "I'm very sorry for your loss."
The boy frowned, fresh tears sparkling in his eyes, "I already talked to the cops."
"I know. Just got some routine questions. Cross the ts, dot the is, y'know," Dean smiled in as friendly a way as he could. This kid was hurt, broken. He really didn't need this.
"Why does the FBI care about an accident?" The boy narrowed his eyes, but didn't look convinced. He didn't look sure it even was an accident.
"Gotta cover all the bases, any possibility that this wasn't an accident. Just a few minutes of your time."
The boy sighed in defeated and ran a hand through his hair, "Fine."
"Did you see anything unusual, before or during the fire?" Dean sat opposite the young student.
"Besides my girlfriend pinned to the ceiling?" the boy muttered.
"Humour me. Flickering lights, cold spots," Dean shrugged as if searching for more answers, "Smell of rotten eggs?"
"How…how did you know?" the boy looked alarmed, "The lights…they were flickering when I got inside. There was a weird smell…then I got into our room and…"
His voice trailed off but Dean got the message, "And would your girlfriend…"
"Jessica."
"Would Jessica have had any reason to have enemies?" Dean asked as carefully as he could.
"What?! Jess was nice to everyone. She was a good student, part of the student council, played sports. Why would she have enemies?"
"Just a routine question, uh, what was your name?"
"Sam," the boy mumbled, "My name's Sam."
Sam. That was his brother's name. Always gave Dean a pang of despair at the thought of his baby brother, taken before he'd barely started living.
"Good to meet you, Sam. I think that's all. If you think of anything else then here's my number," he handed Sam a card, "Thank you for your time."
The hunter had wanted to ask more but really couldn't face it. Sam was clearly exhausted and grieving, he didn't need any more reminders of the tragedy he'd gone through.
"Agent," Sam said quietly as Dean turned to leave, "What am I meant to do?"
"Excuse me?"
"I got no home, my mum can't get a flight out for a few days. No cash," he trailed away and shrugged, "What do I do?"
"Can't your mom wire you some dough?" Dean frowned.
"She can barely afford the flight tickets. She's in enough debt," Sam shook his head with a slow sigh, "I can't do that to her."
Dean stood in the doorway. Normally he'd just shrug, wish the kid luck, and leave. But Sam looked so lost, so broken. And he reminded him a little of his father. Except the eyes, Sam's eyes had a lost, kicked-puppy look, which looked nothing like John's hard stare.
"Listen, I got a motel room booked for a couple days, 'nd I think I'm gonna be sticking around here a while," Dean shrugged, "There's a spare bed if you want it 'til your mom gets here."
Sam looked a little taken aback, "You're sure? I-I can't pay."
"Who said anything about paying" Dean shook his head, "I got it covered. You got a roof over your head."
The boy nodded and ran a hand through his hair, "Alright. Thank you. Really, thank you."
Dean smiled and patted Sam on the shoulder, "C'mon then. You ready?"
The hunter took the student out to his car, who looked pretty impressed, "Nice ride."
"I know, right?" Dean stroked the paintwork, "She's my baby."
"You're sure you two don't want time alone?" Sam smirked and examined the car with interest.
Dean shot him a glare, "Respect the car or the deal's off."
The student was about to laugh but saw the seriousness in the hunter's eyes. He wasn't so sure he was kidding.
"Sorry," he mumbled, sliding into the passenger seat.
Things were quiet when they reached the motel room. Sam only had a small bag of thing salvaged from the fire and had placed it in the corner of the room before sitting with his back to it on the unused bed. He stayed silent for an hour or more, and Dean flicked on the TV.
"Want some grub?" the hunter looked over at the hunched figure on on the bed.
"Not hungry," Sam muttered, wiping at his eyes.
"C'mon. You must be starving," Dean frowned, "How 'bout I order in pizza?"
"Knock yourself out," the boy shrugged, his voice cracking.
"You alright?" Dean asked cautiously, but Sam instantly turned to look at him.
"Alright?" he laughed bitterly before his expression turned dark, "My girlfriend is dead, she burned on the ceiling but everyone thinks I'm nuts. My mother can barely pay rent yet she's flying out to come get me. I had a damn interview for Stanford Law yesterday but the hospital wouldn't let me go. I got no future, no girlfriend, nothing. Nothing. But sure, I'm alright, I'm just peachy."
Dean watched a little helplessly as the student broke down into tears. He'd tried so hard to keep it all inside but the worries and the grief had been crushing him further and further. All Dean could do was watch. He felt he should console him, but he just didn't know how to. Wasn't like his father had ever comforted him, and his memories of his mother's affection were sketchy. But he looked at Sam and saw a little brother needing protection.
"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly, "I really am. It was a stupid question."
Sam didn't answer, but looked up as the supposed agent placed his hand on his shoulder, "You're gonna be okay, you hear? You'll get through it, you and your mom," he gave him as reassuring a smile as possible, "And for the record, I don't think you're crazy."
"You…don't?" Sam sniffed and rubbed his eyes.
"I don't," Dean lowered his voice, "Because the same thing happened to my mom when I was a kid."
"She…burned on the ceiling?" Sam couldn't help but look a little relieved. Finally, someone was hearing him.
"Yeah. My brother died too. Breathed in too much smoke. He was just a baby."
"I'm sorry," Sam looked down respectfully.
"S'alright. Long time ago. My Dad and I, been hunting the thing that did it ever since," Dean shrugged, sparing on the details
Sam did a double take, "The thing that did it?" he narrowed his eyes, "You're…not FBI, are you?"
"Shit," Dean muttered, "Right, truth is…no I'm not. I'm a hunter."
"I'm guessing that's not the deer kind of hunting, right?" Sam asked nervously. Dean chuckled in amusement.
"Wish it was," he shrugged, "Would be hell of a lot easier. It was some kind of supernatural force. That killed my mom. Ghosts, demons, vampires, they're all real, Sam."
"Was Jess killed by the same thing?" Sam's voice was shaking, "Why her?"
"Why my mom?" Dean raised an eyebrow with a sigh, "I don't know. But your girlfriend died the exact same day my mum did. November 2nd, exactly twenty two years later."
"Think there's a connection?" the student wiped yet more tears that spilled over.
"Same day, same death," Dean shrugged, "Points to a yes."
Sam's cellphone began to ring, and Dean gave him some space to have some privacy.
"Mom?" Sam spoke quietly, about to talk but cut off from a seemingly frantic voice on the line, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I promise. I'm staying with the…a FBI agent. No, no, he's…erm, safe. He was investigating the fire, saw I had nowhere to go. No, you don't need to pay him. Don't send me money. I'll be fine, I promise. Alright. I love you too, mom. I will."
"She sounded worried," Dean hoped he wasn't overstepping the mark.
"She is," Sam shook his head, "She was hysterical when the hospital called her. She's the best mom I could have wished for though. After foster home after foster home, I finally found a home."
"You're…?"
"I'm adopted," Sam nodded, "My father, my adopted father. He…he died just before I got into Stanford."
"Sorry. That really sucks," Dean dragged his hand down his face. This kid really hadn't had it easy.
"I took a year out before starting here. Didn't want mom to be on her own," Sam looked at the floor, "He was like my best friend."
Dean was unsure what to say. He'd never felt that way about his father. Even before the fire he was a strict parent. Instead he decided to change the subject, "Lied about my name. It ain't Harrison. My name's Dean Winchester."
"No way," Sam frowned and looked up at the hunter.
"What?"
"I'm Sam…Sam Winchester," he cracked a smile, "What are the chances, huh?"
Sam's laugh turned nervous as he noticed Dean's expression, "Uh, Dean? You alright? Its…just a coincidence."
"Sam," Dean spoke quietly, "You said you were adopted."
"Good, you were listening," Sam smirked, but it faded when Dean's face didn't change, "What's wrong?"
"What happened to your parents?" Dean was shaking, "Sam, when's your birthday?"
"May 2nd, 1983, my mother died in a fire when I was six months old and my…" his eyes widened in realisation, "My father abandoned me at the hospital, took off with my…"
He looked at Dean in shock, "Four year old brother."
"The fire happened when my baby brother, Sam, was six months old," Dean took a step back, "Exactly six months old. And I was four."
A single tear rolled down Dean's cheek, "Sammy? Are you Sammy?"
Sam was unsure whether to smile or cry, "I don't know."
"Where did….Dad abandon you?" Dean asked cautiously, more tears spilling over.
"The hospital in Lawrence, Kansas," Sam watched his potential brother's face. Dean started to smile.
"It's you. You're Sammy, you're my little brother," he whispered. Sam yelped as Dean pulled him into a hug, but slowly hugged him back.
"I always wanted to find my big brother," he mumbled, burying his face in his big brother's shoulder, "Why would your…I guess our, father abandon me?"
"I don't know…but he'll be lucky if I don't break his nose," Dean said with gritted teeth, "But you got lucky. You weren't raised into hunting."
"But my mom, my biological mom, and my girlfriend, both died. Because of me, it seems," Sam pulled away from the hug and sighed, "What's wrong with me?"
"Hey. You're what connects them but that doesn't mean it's your fault," Dean shook his head, "I'm gonna kick Dad's ass when I get my hands on him."
Sam had stayed with his big brother for a few days when his mother arrived. In that time they learned everything about each other's' upbringings. Dean couldn't help but envy his little brother's life, once he was adopted. Before that didn't seem so pleasant. Being passed from foster home to foster home didn't sound fun at all, and he could only apologise on his father's behalf.
A knock at the motel room door got Sam to his feet. In an instant he was almost bowled over by his mother throwing her arms around him.
"I've been so worried!" she sobbed, and the student struggled to keep himself composed as he hugged her.
"I'm okay, mom," he whispered, tears spilling over. Dean stayed to the side of the room at the desk to allow them some privacy. Sam's mother looked over at him a little fondly.
"You must be Agent…" she frowned, "I never did get your name. But thank you for looking after Sam until I got here."
"Agent Dean Winchester, ma'am," Dean nodded to her, getting to his feet.
"Eleanor," Sam's mother shook his hand with a soft smile, "Did you say Winchester?"
"Yeah, about that," Dean looked to Sam, "You want to tell her or should I?"
"I-I…Mom," Sam sat on his bed and gestured for Eleanor to join him. She sat beside him and took her hand, squeezing it gently, "Dean…this will sound crazy but. Dean's my brother."
Eleanor looked taken aback, "Don't be ridiculous, sweetheart. Your father, your biological father, they couldn't find him or your brother!"
"And yet here I am. My Dad took off with me and told me my baby brother was dead. Sam was abandoned at the same hospital at the same time, he's grown up knowing he has an older brother and a father, that his birth mother died in a fire. My mom died in a fire the exact same day. It's all too much coincidence, don't you think?" Dean shrugged slightly.
"What kind of father leaves his youngest son and lies about it to his other son?" Eleanor held her adopted son closer, tears in her eyes.
"Believe me, I'm gonna give him hell," Dean leaned against the wall.
"His loss," Eleanor stroked Sam's hair gently, "I got a beautiful little boy."
"And I'm glad. You gave my brother a childhood he wouldn't have got had he stayed with us," Dean averted his gaze to the floor sadly. An awkward silence fell over the room until Eleanor started examining her son for injuries.
"Mom, I'm okay, I promise. Just a couple burns," Sam brushed her hand away.
"My poor baby," Eleanor kissed Sam's head softly, "Jess was such a lovely girl."
Sam closed his eyes tight at the memory of his girlfriend, and his mother just held him close and stroked his hair. Dean couldn't help but watch enviously. Growing up, any tears would get him yelled at. He'd never experienced such affection and comfort, besides his mother in the short time he had with her.
"I'm…gonna go wait outside," Dean said, making his way out of the motel room.
"Stay," Eleanor said softly, "You're Sam's brother, you're family."
John Winchester pulled up at the motel in Palo Alto after an urgent call from his son. He wouldn't say what was wrong, only stating it was an emergency. The hunter had driven way over the limit, maybe he'd finally identified Mary's killer
Dean was waiting for him as he arrived, leaning against the wall of their motel room. He appeared unscathed and way too relaxed to have found vital information about his mother's murderer
"Dad…I got someone I'd like you to meet," Dean gave his father a hard stare.
"Did you get it?" John asked a little hopefully, but Dean shook his head, going back inside.
A woman with long dark hair that was beginning to go grey was sat on the bed, her arm around a young boy with tears in his eyes.
"Who are they?" the hunter looked accusingly at his son, "And why are they here?"
The boy had tears trickling down his cheeks by this point, staring at him."
"Remember Sam, Dad? My little brother? My brother who died?" Dean snapped. John had to fight against the shock at the sudden mention of his youngest son. He looked briefly from the boy to Dean.
"What about him?" he said coolly, "He's been dead twenty two years now."
"That's where you're wrong. Because I met Sam here. Born May 2nd 1983, abandoned in a hospital in Lawrence, Kansas after his mother died in a fire. Sound familiar?" Dean glared, "Because my brother never died, did he? You dumped him at the hospital and ran in the opposite direction."
John's expression was calm, but he was struggling to find words, struggling to stay composed. He'd never stopped thinking about the six month old he left behind. "I did what I had to."
"You had to abandon your baby son?" the woman spoke up, "You had to let him grow up feeling like his real-I mean biological family doesn't love him?"
John turned to the boy, his youngest son, "Sam, if you're Sam. I'm sorry. I am. When Mary, your mother, when she died, I was messed up. All I could think about was finding what killed her. And a baby got in the way of that. I couldn't be dragging a baby around. So I did what I thought was best. But I'm still your father, I still thought of you, especially on your birthday."
"No, you're not," Sam shook his head, "My father died when I was eighteen."
The woman sniffed quietly and gently squeezed Sam, stroking his hair.
"But you did do what was best. I got a family. The best mom and dad I could have wished for," the student looked at her hunter and nodded to him with kind eyes, "So thank you."
John cracked a small smile. He was just relieved his son had grown up with good people, had a good childhood. Sam stood, gently placing his adopted mother's hand on the bed, and walked towards his father. He looked a little cautious, but his mother gave him an encouraging smile amidst her tears. John sighed softly and pulled his youngest son into a hug, pressing a kiss on his hair.
"My boy," he whispered softly, "I'm so sorry."
Dean walked out the motel room and sat in his car, furious tears spilling over. Why was Sam so forgiving? Why was John acting like he cared so much when he barely seemed to give a crap about his eldest? A knock on the window made him look up, and he noticed Eleanor outside the car.
"Can I come in?" she asked kindly, but sat beside him anyway without waiting for an answer, "Are you alright?"
"Sam just forgave him. My Dad left him. And he's forgiven him," Dean muttered.
"That's our Sammy for you," Eleanor smiled proudly, "He's stubborn, but so forgiving. And it sounds like your father just wanted what was best for him, although I don't think taking a young boy with him…I'm not sure what kind of life you've led, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't sound suitable for a growing boy."
"He shoulda done me a favour and dumped me with Sam," Dean fought his emotions, looking at Eleanor sadly, "Maybe I could have had a life like his."
"I would have been proud to call you my son," Eleanor smiled softly, "I know we've only just met, but if you need anything, you're welcome to call. As I said, you're family."
A similar conversation was going on inside the room. John was sat beside Sam on the bed.
"I know I wasn't there for you. I know you grew up with a different father, a better father, and I know I'll never be a real father to you," he said quietly, "But I want to get to know my son."
"And I want to get to know you and Dean," Sam looked at his father briefly before looking away.
"Our job…it means we have to travel around a lot, all over America. But we'll check in," John patted his son's shoulder, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend, Sam."
Sam nodded but didn't speak. The thought of Jess sent his mood crashing down and he was close to tears. He took a few seconds to get composed, "I'll probably go home. Take some time out. Doubt I'll get into Stanford Law now anyway."
"Why not? Seem like a smart kid," John frowned.
"Missed my interview. We can't afford it unless I get in on a full ride. Not like I have anywhere to live now either," Sam shrugged, "What's the point?"
"It wasn't your fault you missed it. Wasn't like you skipped it on purpose. They should understand that, give you another chance. Then you gotta show them how great you are, how stupid they'd be to turn you down," the older hunter looked at his son a little proudly.
"You sound like my dad," Sam wiped at his eyes as his voice shook. John smirked.
"About time I started," he muttered.
"Have you ever talked like that to Dean?" the student looked at John seriously. The man looked away in shame.
"I guess not," he finally spoke after a moment of silence.
"Maybe it's about time you started with him too," Sam's voice was firm, "Don't go treating me special because I'm the kid you abandoned. Dean deserves your support too, just because he's been with you all this time doesn't change that."
John looked a little taken aback by the boy's words, if that were Dean he'd have snapped at him for taking such a tone. But he couldn't with Sam. He barely knew the kid. Dean had had a questionable attitude for a long time, he needed putting in his place. But it made John think. How often had he praised his eldest for his work, his improvement? Had he ever encouraged him or complimented him on anything? Sam was right, they were both his sons. He wouldn't be giving Sam the special treatment had he not left him behind. Sam smirked a little watching his father clearly think everything through.
One month later
Sam held the envelope in his shaking hands, looking up at his family. His mom was standing beside him while John was sat on the couch and Dean leaning against the living room wall.
"Open it up, Sammy," Dean grinned, "We wanna see if we're in the presence of the next big shot lawyer."
"I'm nervous," Sam said quietly, but started to open it.
"Just remember, sweetie, if you don't get in we're still so proud of you. You can try again. Or I can pay-"
"No, you won't," Sam put a hand on Eleanor's shoulder, "You've paid enough for me."
The twenty-two year old pulled the paper from the envelope and everyone in the room held their breath. The suspense was deadly, Dean was fidgeting impatiently as the unfolding of the paper appeared to take hours.
Sam stared at the letter for a while, his expression unreadable. He took it all in, the paper visibly shaking.
"Well?" Dean's voice was quiet, he'd become just as nervous as his brother.
"I…" the boy whispered, unable to form words. He passed the letter to Eleanor, who after a few seconds gasped and immediately burst into tears, throwing her arms around her adopted son.
"I'm so proud of you!" she sobbed, hugging Sam tightly while Dean and John exchanged glances.
"I got it," Sam said, more to himself to anyone else, but his brother and father got up with proud smiles on their faces.
"Way to go, brother," Dean pulled Sam into a hug once Eleanor let him go to read the letter a few more times. He patted his little brother on the back and pulled back, "I bet your dad would be proud. And Jess too."
Tears sparkled in Sam's eyes as he nodded, not speaking in fear of crying. John put a hand on Sam's shoulder and smiled softly.
"I'm proud of you," he said, nodding politely, "Your mother…your birth mother. She'd be proud."
After dinner, involving celebratory wine, John and Dean had to leave on another case. They came back whenever they could and kept in touch with Sam while on the road. John had helped Sam pay the first few months' rent for a new apartment at Stanford, one with a guest room for Dean to stay in when he could, although where the money came from was unknown to Sam. Dean had been moral support for his interview as well as taking him out for beers as "big brothers should", in his eyes. Sam had been pleased to see the change in John, and as a result, a change in Dean. John was more supportive, more praising, even if he occasionally slipped back into his old ways. It was a start and definitely an improvement, and Dean seemed much happier
Sam hated saying goodbye to Dean and John, he didn't need to be told that their job was dangerous. Part of him wished he could go with them, hunt monsters and ghosts, maybe avenge his girlfriend's death. But he couldn't. He couldn't worry his mom, he couldn't give up Stanford Law after everything. So he'd wait for the next day Dean and John would knock on the door, whether back home in Kansas or in his new apartment at Stanford. Sam had never imagined meeting his family, he'd just thought his biological father hadn't given a crap about him. But now he had a big brother, a father, even if he could never replace the father who raised him. Losing Jessica had hit him hard, he still hadn't fully recovered from it, but with his family by his side he knew he'd keep on fighting through it.