By: Oldach's Dream
Disclaimer: Trust me, I don't own 'em.
Summary: Sam's past comes back and gives him hell. Very upbeat, lighthearted story. Oneshot.
Timeline: Season oneish
A/N: Another little story I found lurking on my laptop. I should point out now, you probably won't like the ending much. (Don't skip down to the last line, please) Simply because it IS the end, I will not be writing more of this. But - I encourage you to go ahead and read the Author's Note at the bottom (Again, not now) once you're done. Oh, and Review. Never forget to review.
Way Back When
"Hello?" Sam spoke almost timidly into his cell phone, having not recognized the number flashing on the screen. He shot his brother a look, almost as if expecting the elder man to have an answer for him. Dean simply glanced away from the open road to shrug slightly, before repositioning his hands on the wheel and subtly watching his brother out of the corner of his eye.
"Sam Winchester," a voice replied happily. "I'll be damned."
It took Sam few seconds, but when he finally did respond, he thought it was incredibly appropriate. "Shit." He breathed.
"Aw," the girl shook off the somewhat less than enthusiastic greeting, "You never were really articulate."
"Sorry," he shook his head and laughed slightly, not sure how else to respond. "How...what's, I mean...uh..."
"Yeah," she started laughing and Sam felt himself blush. She could always make him blush. "You too."
"How ya been, Heather?" He finally got out, forgetting for the moment that he was in a car with his big brother, and that Dean was listening to every word he said.
"Eh," Sam could picture her shrugging, "Can't complain really. What about you?" Her voice got suddenly sympathetic, "How've you been since Jess? I didn't see you at the funeral."
"Yeah," he tried not to sound sad, knowing Dean would get immediately protective. "I just couldn't, you know..."
"Yeah," she said. "I do. I get it." There was a respectful pause before she started back up again, her tone light. It was something she could always do - shift gears, change emotions so incredibly quickly. She'd always reminded Sam of Dean in that respect. "I heard you were on a road trip with your brother." She paused briefly, adapting a more complex tone, "Of course, I also heard your brother got arrested for killing Zach's girlfriend." Her voice was skeptical. "You wanna clear that one up?"
Sam shot a quick glance in Dean's direction before shifting the cell phone to his right ear. "It's kinda a long story." He rubbed the back of his neck slightly, hoping she'd let it go.
"It's always a long story with you," yet there was no anger, or even tightness in her voice. Just sympathy tinged quietly with recognition. She had quite a few long stories of her own, if Sam remembered correctly. "Just answer me this, is your brother next to you right now, listening to everything you're saying?"
"Uh...yeah." He admitted, and felt vulnerable somehow in doing so.
"I'd have so much fun with that if I had the time," she sounded disappointed, Sam was relieved.
"Sorry?"
"Me too," she sighed, "Listen, we actually need to talk. In person."
"Uh..."
"Preferably without your brother listening in on us. Where are you?"
"Right outside...ah...hang on," he put the speaker of his cell on his shoulder out of habit and turned to Dean. "Dude, where are we?"
"Why?" The elder asked skeptically.
Sam glared, Dean rolled his eyes. "Montana."
Sam parroted the state back into the phone.
"Cool," Heather accepted. "Tell me what city and I'll be there by tomorrow."
"Aren't you in California?" Sam said, ludicrous. Heather, by nature, was unpredictable, flighty, and basically a whole big ball of personality with energy to spare - but even she couldn't pull that off. Could she?
"New York," she admitted, "but I've got enough Frequent Flyer Miles racked up to get me to Spain and back."
"Alright then," he smiled.
He hung up the phone after promising to call her back just as soon as he knew where they'd be sleeping for the night. Ignoring Dean's wide, questioning gaze, Sam just shook his head and smiled.
This'll be interesting.
--
"So you're really not gonna tell me who this chick is?" The elder Winchester inquired for not the first time that afternoon.
"I told you," Sam said again, trying to find a shirt. "She's an old friend."
"Like that other chick we met?"
"Rebecca?" Sam said slowly, purposely annoyed, knowing that Dean full-well remembered her name.
"Yeah, her." He made no effort to change his tone. "This one hot too?"
"Does nothing else matter to you?"
"Is that a no?"
"Yeah, Dean," Sam finally gave up. "She's hot. All my friends from Stanford are hot. It's a requirement for admittance."
"Then how'd you get in?"
"Bite me."
"Wear my shirt." He responded.
"What?"
"The black one." He said as if that clarified it. "It's the only one left that's not dirty."
Sam located the shirt in question, examined it and, finding its fault, opened his mouth to point it out.
"The blood stain's been there for years," Dean beat him to it. "The fact that you noticed it kinda scares me."
"For God's sake…" he muttered absently, whilst pulling the shirt on all the same.
"So, I guess I'm not invited to this little shindig, huh?" Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"No." Sam said quickly. "Remember what happened last time you met my friends?"
"Uh…" his brother pretended to think about it. "We saved their lives?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Heather doesn't need saving."
Dean relented, shrugging his shoulders and literally throwing himself onto his mattress, grabbing the remote from off the nightstand the second he landed. "Whatever, dude." He turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels. "Just make sure she's not possessed. I am so not saving your ass this week."
--
"So…" Sam trailed off, taking a sip of the coffee he'd ordered and studying Heather carefully. Choppy hair, dyed black at the moment, she was slim - had the body of the gymnast with no athletic background to back it up. She was tall for a girl, but much shorter than him. "You got a new tattoo." He said, in lieu of saying what he actually wanted to.
Heather looked down at the inside of her wrist, where a small Celtic design was now visible. "Apparently." She answered. "Still don't remember doing that."
Sam laughed. "You're a lightweight. When are you gonna learn that six shots of Vodka is overkill?"
"Look who's talking mister punk-rock-gone-wrong." She bit back lightly.
Sam cringed. "I thought you said you'd never mention that again."
"Karaoke night," she sighed. "What college is all about, truly."
They smiled at each other before lapsing into silence again.
"So…" Sam began once more.
"Oh, let me guess," Heather cut in. "What the hell am I doing here? Am I stalking you? Do I need money to buy drugs? Am I blackmailing you? Do I hold the key to your entire future?" She grinned broadly. "Oh, I know. I had your love child four years ago and now I'm coming back to drop a toddler into your life because I'm…I have terminal cancer. No! I'm going to Sweden to complete a sex-change operation!"
"I guess that no caffeine thing didn't stick, then?" Asked Sam, more than a little wearily.
Heather snorted. "Too many soap operas."
"Sure, we could go with that."
"You wanna know why I really needed to see you?" She began again, voice still light, but not playfully upbeat like before.
"Well…yeah, kinda." Sam said hastily. "I mean, I love seeing you, but this was kind of…"
"Sudden."
"Sudden." The Winchester agreed.
"Actually," Heather laughed. "I'm getting married."
Sam was glad he hadn't been swallowing any coffee as she'd said that. Had he been, he might be facing a near-fatal choking incident right now. As it was, he couldn't stop himself from blurting, "Christo."
"Huh?" Her eyebrows went up in confusion.
Sam coughed. "Uh…yeah. Huh?"
She laughed again, very obviously not possessed. "Jake."
"Jake." He repeated. Understanding flooded him. "The guy from your High School."
"That's the one." She repeated, eyes gleaming in a way that made Sam absently jealous. "He came to Stanford, right after…well, right after Jessica." Her eyes met his and he smiled a little, to let her know it was okay to keep going.
"He was there." She continued. "Because I called him and said I needed him."
"And he came."
"Yeah," Her smile was genuine. Sam had always been attracted to that smile.
"Good for you." He declared sincerely. "When are you two gonna…"
"Next month, back in Topeka so his parents can be there." She answered. "It'll just be a small little thing, you know, I've never been one for anything fancy."
And, oddly enough, she was speaking the truth. For as lively as she was, Heather hated formal. Sam wondered absently if this Jake guy he'd heard so much about but had never actually met, would be able to get her to wear a real wedding dress.
Something about Heather in white made him want to giggle. And not purely from the sexual implications. Heather just wasn't a white lace kind of girl.
"Well, really, that's great."
"I agree." She nodded. "The thing is, though, well…you know I coulda told you all this over the phone."
Sam had been thinking the same thing, but hadn't planned on saying anything. Now that she had, however, he nodded. "So why didn't you?"
"'Cause I need you to sign something."
Well, that was…odd.
"You need me to sign something?" He parroted.
"Yup." And she was grinning. "You remember that summer we all went to Vegas?"
--
"So, how was your little stroll down memory lane?" Dean asked the moment he stepped foot through the door.
Sam groaned. "You wanna meet Heather?"
"I thought that was against your little code of conduct." He sneered, but with nothing except humor and curiosity in his tone.
"Yeah, well, I need a ride down to a courthouse tomorrow."
Dean's eyes widened. "Huh?"
Yeah, that was the ongoing theme for the day.
Then his big brother expanded, "Why?"
"I…" Sam ran a hand through his hair absently. God, how he would never be hearing the end of this. "I need to go get divorced."
End.
A/N: Right, well, as I mentioned, I just found this and posted it for the hell of it. I'm not really writing Supernatural fics all that much these days and perhaps this wasn't the most informational ending.
That having been said…anyone who wants to write more of this - a spin-off story or a continuation - feel free. Seriously. I was just going for lighthearted and fun - apparently, I can't really recall writing this - but if anyone feels like it, you can turn this into anything, really.
Just let me know and give me credit. If no one wants to, it'll remain a oneshot.