The Visit

Summary: Pre-Pilot slightly. Dean had been in Stanford the night he went to get his brother. What exactly had he been doing? Standalone piece.

Tag: It's pre-Pilot episode slightly though toward the end bits of the Pilot are spaced in so it's tagged to the Pilot and may contain spoilers.

Warning: I'll rate it T+ for language though it's only a little bad here and there.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. No harm is meant, nothing made.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Halloween of 2005 at Stanford College usually meant a bunch of out of control parties and plenty of calls to both police and campus security as evening turned to full dark and casual drinking turned to all out partying.

One trio of Halloween goers included a tall young man with rather floppy brown hair that seemed to like to fall into hazel eyes that crinkled in amusement at something the pretty blond young woman dressed as a nurse was saying as she tugged on his jacketed arm.

Either distracted by her or what the zombie like dressed African-American with them had said, he missed the black car parked around the corner from the apartment building he'd been living in. Also missed was the driver of the car who sat on a park bench in plain view of the car but out of sight of the trio.

Lowering the paper he'd been pretending to study, the driver of the 1967 black Chevy Impala let green eyes follow the three college students until they were out of sight before frowning.

He hadn't been sure what he was expecting but the young man he'd just watched leave with the luscious blond wasn't it. Oh, sure this wasn't the first time he'd seen him from afar since he'd lost count of the time that he'd swung by Stanford just to take a look at him, to make sure he was alright or to leave anonymous envelopes with whatever money he'd saved or won in cards or pool. Except for one time this was the closest he'd come to actually reaching out to touch his own brother.

The change made from eighteen to twenty-two should have surprised him but then he supposed it was no different than the changes that had happened to him in the last four years since the night Sam had stormed out after that bitter fight with their Dad over his acceptance into college. Though he'd be damned if he'd let most of those changes show on the outside since he'd been taught since childhood to bury all the crap he felt.

The sudden decision to come to Stanford had come after getting the voicemail from John Winchester shortly after finishing a solo job in New Orleans. The shaky message worried Dean but after his father hadn't called again or resurfaced then he decided it was time to go get backup…even if it would be more than likely reluctant backup.

Running his fingers through much shorter brown hair than his brother had, he was about to go scope the building out for a second time when a group of students caught his attention and not in a good way as their overly loud voices meant they'd started their partying early.

"I still can't believe that little Miss Perfect hooked up with that geek-boy loser," the tallest of the four boys sneered as he shot a dark look toward the building across the street.

"My ex worked in admitting his Freshman year and said while he got a full-ride he came in with pretty much the clothes on his back and no full time residence listed," a shorter, curly haired boy dressed in expensive jeans and shirt replied in a tone only a rich kid could use.

Taking an instant read of the four boys and two girls in the group as they passed by him, the leather jacket wearing man knew snobs when he saw them but something else tugged at him…something he hadn't felt in four years, the urge to hurt someone who was close to hurting his little brother.

"Excuse me?" he forced the building anger down at anyone suggesting his brother didn't deserve to be here since he knew just how hard the kid had worked to earn that damn full ride. Waiting for the taller student to turn, he used every ounce of patience he had to appear calm while he pointed to the building. "I'm new around here and looking for a pal who said he lived in one of these apartments…ummm 3B I think in that building," he hedged it as if trying to remember even though he knew exactly what number apartment he was dealing with. "His name's Sambora? You know for sure if he lives there?"

Glancing at the man who seemed to be about 6' with sort of broad shoulders under a battered leather jacket, Roger Vanderstein would have sneered at the low class, rugged look but there was a look in this one's eyes that made him more cautious…except with his mouth. "Ain't no one named Sambora livin' there, dude," he threw a smirk to his friends before hardening his face. "That place belongs to little Miss Jessica Moore and the loser geek she moved in with her. Sammy Winchester lives with her. I figure the only way he got a full ride to Stanford is one of those deals where some school counselor did a hardship thing or something. Most kids here don't shop at Goodwill for clothes or the cheap crap he does," lowering his voice to a near whisper he leaned closer to this stranger who backed away on instinct at the smell of Whiskey. "I hear from sources that he gets money dropped off mysteriously so my pals and I think he's into drugs or some other stuff but we're gonna handle that tonight."

"Huh, you are, are you?" the stranger eyed the other students with a darker look and had immense satisfaction to see most of them had the common sense to look nervous. "Gonna wait for him to leave the hot blond and jump him? Maybe show the poor slob what being rich and powerful means in your little world?"

"Man, you so got it down!" Roger was thrilled that someone else saw his vision of his plan for the Winchester geek, shrugging off his shorter friend's nudges to the arm. "See, Winchester has everyone fooled by the humble geek-boy innocent routine but I see through that. Probably had a drunk for an old man, lived in a trailer and forged his acceptance papers to even get in here then he's probably been using Jess as a way to get all those grades to manage that high a LSAT score. I mean, no one gets a 174! Not someone like…"

Barely aware of what an LSAT was, the stranger eyed a petite brunette who was staring at the ground as if embarrassed. "So, is 174 good?" he asked, guessing he could wait to ask Caleb but then he'd have to explain where he was and why.

"Like, wickedly good," she replied with a shy smile, looking this dangerous appearing man over to see a new look flash in the intense green eyes that had been growing darker the longer Roger talked. A look of almost pride but then it vanished when he turned to glare at Roger again. "With a score like that Sam could get into any law school he wanted if…"

"He'll need to be out of the hospital before that happens, Janey," Roger sneered, not forgetting that Jessica used to be his girl before Winchester showed up. He had begun to turn when the man in leather suddenly latched onto his arm with a grip that was firm but not yet tight. "Dude, what…"

Anger simmering as he read between this stuck up little jerk's words, he could see what was happening and what would happen. "Actually, his Father is an ex-Marine who served in Vietnam. He didn't skate by with any handouts from anyone for anyone and he worked damn hard for every grade he got to earn that full ride. He didn't have a permanent address because his Dad moved his family around a lot in his…job. He showed up with the clothes on his back because that's all he took with him after he left his family when his father refused to let him go to school. He shops at thrift stores and used places because unlike you fancy asses that's where he grew up shopping and he doesn't know where he gets that money from either since his brother leaves it for him," he declared firmly, tone dropping way past friendly or conversational.

"Hey…how…how'd you know all that…" Roger winced as the fingers dug into his arm suddenly tightened to grip it firmly while another hand grabbed his throat, whirled and shoved him back into a building.

"I know because I'm his damn big brother and no one calls Sammy a geek but me!" he growled, leaning in close to the now sweating but fully sober punk. "If my brother even gets a scratch on him in the next month and I find out about it I will be back and Daddy's money won't buy your way outta the pain I'll cause you. Are we clear on this?"

Nodding jerkily, Roger stared at the hard eyes of this man and stumbled into his friends as he was shoved away from his rival's brother and only the thought that this guy really didn't give a care about who his old man was or the money he had kept him from doing or saying anything else.

"Yeah, you're doing real good here, Sammy," scowling as he watched the group flee the area, he decided to move the car to avoid the eventual police patrol. He didn't want any more hassles from campus security than he'd had on an earlier visit when another group of bullies had seen just what he was willing to do to protect the kid brother he'd spent most of his life looking after.

It was a few hours after Sam and girl, Jessica he recalled her name was, returned home that he decided to slip inside the apartment. Easily scaling the fire escape to find the right place, he muttered a quick harsh oath under his breath about weak security and how little brother ought to know better before he heard the simple latch pop.

Lifting the older style window as quietly as possible, he then proceeded to slip inside only to miscalculate the distance from window to floor and landed with a thud. "Sonuvabitch!" he hissed, standing easily to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness before moving silently into the apartment.

Noticing only a few personal effects from his brother, he also noticed that there was only a few things that could belong to both Sam and the girl which made him wonder what was up with this since a good education, the girlfriend, the normal life was all his brother had ever wanted.

Stepping into one room, he caught the silhouette a second before the attack came and once he was done swearing at himself for not hearing or sensing it earlier, he had to admit the kid was still good. Good but then he was the one who had taught him so that meant he'd always be older…and better. Dropping his opponent, he was surprised at how tense and nervous he was when he finally… "Whoa, easy, tiger…" Dean Winchester grins with a grin that he hopes his brother doesn't recognize as the forced one he uses when on edge.

"…Dean?" Sam stared up at his older brother, startled not only by the sudden late night visit but also by the burst of emotion he felt. "You scared the crap outta me."

"That's cause you're outta practice," Dean replied, silently pleased by the younger man's response to the break in but he'd never admit that out loud unless he was maybe being eaten by something nasty.

Temper sparking at the tone, Sam was quick to move. Using a countermove his brother had taught him a long time ago that landed him on top with a raised brow that almost dared his brother to comment.

"Or not," Dean conceded the point, twisting slightly even though he knew he could free himself easily. "Now, get offa me."

Pulling Dean up off the floor, Sam felt the tension in his brother's upper arm muscles, which should have alerted him to possible trouble even before it did.

48 hours Later:

Standing back to allow the police and firefighters to do their job, Dean looked around the crowd of faces illuminated only by the still burning fire that once had been his brother's home when he spotted a couple familiar ones.

Locking onto Roger's face, the silent message that was exchanged was clear warning for the other student not to think of messing with his brother right then.

Walking back to join Sam at the trunk, Dean swallowed tightly when he noticed his brother was messing in the weapons compartment with every type of law enforcement official hovering nearby. Carefully placing a hand on Sam's shoulder to offer what support he could under the circumstances, he was surprised that it wasn't shrugged off about as much as he was shocked by his brother's next words.

Tossing the shotgun back into the trunk before slamming the trunk, Sam looked over to see both the silent concern and need to help on his older brother's face. "We've got work to do," he stated firmly, saying goodbye to the life he had once dreamed of having and accepting that perhaps being raised as a hunter was what he needed to be…so long as he had Dean by him to steer him right and make the thing that murdered both his mother and girlfriend pay.

THE END

A/N: Not sure where this one came from and while I have another couple ideas for tags to the Pilot, this is what popped from the Muse tonight.