Feb. 17, 2008. I'm tweaking this a bit to clean up any mistakes in grammar and spelling... though I'm sure I'll still miss a few... and hopefully make it flow a little smoother. Well, that's my intention, anyway.

I'm also using this as an opportunity to reflect upon what actually occurs in Season 3. Yes, this little tale is now off canon because they decided to use both the Trickster and Hendrickson in a different way. But I came up with this storyline last May and I'm getting quite a kick at the similarities that do exist between this story and theirs. Even to bringing in Bobby and the suturing ... it really is playing out like an AU version... so this sci fi loving geek doesn't feel too heretical.

Maybe I did pitch them my story? As in sent out the vibes and they picked them up... yeah, in my dreams... lol

Thanks again for all the kind reviews... and feel to offer comments or suggestions.

Strange Bedfellows:

Chapter 1

The morning light filtered softly through gauzy curtains, lending an air of serenity to the room. Seated in a comfortable stuffed armchair by the window, an elderly black woman stares blankly at the opposite wall, her thin, gnarled hands fussing gently with the knitted afghan covering her lap and legs as if anxious to take up some unnamed task. The walls are covered with a pastel, flowered wallpaper that blends nicely with the floral pattern of the chair and the neatly made up bed in the corner. A vase filled with fresh flowers sits on the bed stand and the soft playing of gospel hymns in the background adds to the feeling of peace and tranquility.

A second chair faces the old woman and is occupied by her grandson, FBI Special Agent Victor Hendrickson. Since her crippling stroke the previous year his grandmother has been confined to this well run nursing facility; one that actually exceeded his exacting standards. Half blind from various medical problems and now slowly recovering from the effects of the stroke, she has good days and bad days. But she had raised Victor after his preacher father & his mother were killed in a car crash and he visits whenever he can, good days or not, taking her for fresh air outside on the grounds in nice weather or just sitting with her in her room and chatting away.

It was little enough compared to what he felt he owed her. With the exception of some distant cousins that he had only met once or twice as a child, she was the only family he had. Barely nine when his parent's car was struck by escaping bank robbers in a stolen getaway car, Victor could trace his interest in law enforcement to that life altering event.

This is one of her better days, though she's hardly said a word since he arrived; and the CD that they are listening to is a new one he had just brought her, filled with her favorite hymns. The staff was very good about ensuring that she had music to listen to throughout the day and had mentioned that she seemed to respond best to hearing the old time gospel songs, hardly surprising for the wife and mother of Baptist ministers. Amazing Grace is currently playing in the background and she starts to sing along in a soft, whispery voice. Victor decided right then that it was definitely worth the hours it had taken to track down the recordings and then get one of the wiz kid computer geeks that worked in his field office to "burn" them onto the CD for him after work in exchange for a large pizza with the "works". Kids. Victor's stomach still churned at the thought of that pizza. Call him a purist, but no one was ever going to convince him that tropical fruits had any business being on a pizza.

Victor resumes talking to her, continuing his abridged version of what he had been doing since his last visit. Pursuit of the Winchester brothers is at the top of his list and his voice grows more and more passionate as he recounts his, thus far, fruitless efforts to locate the brothers. Their seemingly miraculous escape from the Green County jail was infuriating, and Victor didn't think Dean would make another rookie mistake anytime soon. He'd hardly believed his luck the first time around, not after Dean and Sam had so completely dropped off the map for months following the bank job in Milwaukee. His grandmother looked pensive and she suddenly spoke aloud in a surprising clear and unslurred manner, " The Lord has such mysterious ways, and it's so hard to keep to the path. But He never gives His chosen ones more than they can bear."

"Now, Granny," Victor laughed," since when did you start thinking that I'm that special?"

"Oh, you're special, child. And the Lord knows what a good man you are; but I'm not talking here about you, boy." And with that she once more lapsed into silence, except for her contented humming along with the hymns.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Two states over from where Victor is visiting his grandmother, the subjects of his current manhunt, Dean & Sam Winchester, arrive at a remote cabin, one of many that their father had used over the years. Unused except during the fall hunting season, its location on the private land of a grateful family that John Winchester had saved from a reawakened, malevolent spirit back when the brothers were still young made it an ideal spot to lay low for awhile.

Both young men are bruised and battered, but Dean is the more seriously injured. Their chasing down of the demon army had been put on hold while they dealt with a particularly nasty poltergeist that had taken up residence in a rowhouse. During their attempt to oust the unwanted intruder, the poltergeist had brought down a good sized section of ceiling right on top of Dean before he managed to place the last ward that finally banished it from the place. The commotion had attracted the neighbors' attention and the boys fled before the police could arrive, with Sam grabbing an armload of towels to staunch the blood flow as best he could until they reached a safe haven. Dean's left shoulder had caught the brunt of the collapsing ceiling supports and now Sam was forced to do quite a bit of suturing to patch all the lacerations caused by the falling debris. "Should have been pre-med , not pre-law.", he thought to himself as he methodically tied off his stitches. Their stash of medical supplies had been running low and this pretty much finished it off. A fifth of cheap whiskey from the trunk of the car served as anesthetic while Sam carefully patched up his brother.

Dean endured Sam's ministrations silently, interrupting the process with periodic swigs from the fifth when things got a little too uncomfortable. He felt so worn and tired; grateful for this chance to just sit and do nothing. He was doubly grateful that Sam was giving him some space... not hovering over him or haranguing him about what he felt needed to be done... just quietly tending their hurts in a matter of fact manner.

Ever since Sam figured out that Dean had summoned the cross roads demon and traded his soul for Sam's life, payment due in one year's time, Sam had fluctuated between deep concern for his brother and total outrage at the cost of the deal. Or maybe it was that he felt both ways simultaneously, with one or the other emotion gaining the upper hand.

At the same time, Dean was undergoing his own turmoil, wanting to live it up in his few remaining months and find anyway he could to not think beyond the approaching moment when the debt for Sam's life would be collected. And of course, neither brother's behavior was in sync with the other... so neither could find a shared moment that would allow them to address their issues. So they continued this strange dance... feinting back and forth... resolving nothing.

However, even as he raged inwardly about Dean's behavior and seeming indifference about his fate, Sam had been slowly growing more and more solicitous of his big brother. No longer could he take anything for granted about Dean. He didn't dare; because he knew all too well that in spite of his best efforts to save Dean, he still might fail. Sam knew that he owed Dean so much and he needed to ensure that Dean got the best year possible under the circumstances. It was only a drop in bucket compared to what he owed Dean, but it was a start.

He still desperately wanted to see Dean fight back; this "new" Dean was so unlike the brother he was sure he knew so well. If Sam had felt frustrated when Dean seemed to accept his death so easily after his accidental electrocution during the fight with the rawhead, he was now finding whole new levels of frenzied exasperation. But he also remembered, or at least he did after Bobby had torn him a new one a month or so back, that his final moments with his dad had been marred by his unbridled anger and desire to continue the never ending battle of wills that had existed between them for so long.

It had taken Sam awhile, but he was starting to gain a better understanding of his brother now than he ever had in the past. During the past two years that they had worked together in the "family business"of hunting down supernatural evil, Sam had slowly come to the realization that most of what he thought he "knew" about his brother was really just the self protective facade that Dean used to get through the relentless grind of the "job"... be it fighting evil creatures or taking care of his pain in the ass little brother. Dean's need to protect his family over rode his own self interest to an unhealthy degree; and while it frustrated Sam to no end, he was learning to accept the fact that Dean's "problems" were the result of their screwed up childhood, and getting mad at Dean wouldn't solve anything. Any more than taking out his anger on his dad had helped. Sam sometimes wondered what might have been if he had been more open about his family with Jess. Perhaps she would have helped him figure things out earlier. Lord knew that she repeatedly tried to get him to open up about his family, only to have him shut down completely on her. What if it could have prevented her death? He'd never know, but the residual guilt would be a part of him forever.

Sam had mostly felt safe as a child, thanks to Dean... but then later when he felt unsafe and threatened as he grew older and better understood what the family did, Sam had responded with anger and resentment. Sam deeply regretted how he seemed to let his anger take control and make him oblivious to the needs of his family. Sure his childhood was messed up, but that was the fault of the yellow eyed demon, not his dad or Dean. They were victims as well. And now to add to it... Sam learned from evil thing itself that it was Sam all along that the yellow eyed demon had wanted; so here he had been blaming them when it was really as much his fault that his mother died so horrifically and that seeing her die that way was what set his father on the path he took.

Sam distrusted the yellow eyed demon enough that he didn't put much faith in the "dream" he had back in Cold Oaks. Rosie's mom didn't recognize the demon when it invaded her nursery, so why should his own mother or situation be any different. Her spirit had protected the young family from the poltergeist in their former home and made the ultimate sacrifice to save her sons. 'No. It was a lie. That's what demons do. They lie.' Sam would not accept a demon's word about the character of his mother.

So now Sam was growing more tolerant as Dean drank a little more, or maybe a lot more, than he should. Knowing what lay in wait had to be taking its toll on Dean; and while Sam knew that Dean would make the same deal again in a heartbeat, there was no way he could not be dreading his fate. Because of his new awareness, Sam made an effort not to get so caught up in the hunt that he neglected sharing time with Dean. No longer did Dean play darts or pool solo, Sam would put away the laptop and join in. And the more he did so, the more natural it became. Two brothers sharing some fun together. He did draw the line at "hooking up" with girls, but Dean actually spent far less time chasing skirts than he had before, preferring to spend his time with Sam. Sometimes it seemed that Dean would spend great lengths of time just observing Sam, content to merely hear Sam breathe or watch him do the most mundane tasks. Of course, he would deny that he was doing anything more than listening to his music or daydreaming. But Dean seemed to still be haunted by the agonizing hours that he spent staring at his brother's corpse and needed to assure himself that Sam was alive and going to stay that way.

Finally finished with his suturing, Sam cleaned up and put away the remaining first aid materials. Dean went over to one of the beds and lay down in preparation for sleep. Sam rummaged around for a clean sheet of paper and started a list of supplies they needed. By the time Sam found some paper and was ready to get Dean's input, the exhausted young man was sound asleep. Sam fondly watched his brother softly snore, glad that he was finally getting some rest. He would finish the list and then see how much cash they had on hand. The credit cards were too risky to use in this isolated area, but he would definitely need to make a supply run before too long. There was only enough food left in the car for one decent meal since they had been using their supplies more heavily than usual while staying low. He'd let Dean sleep while he made something for them for lunch and then head out after ensuring that Dean ate something healthy for a change.