Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Alternate Universe of SPN where Sam is undisturbed at law school, Jess lives for a while longer, Dean's soul is dragged down to hell far earlier than it should have been, John Winchester is a piece of shit, and Bobby does his best.
Author's Note: Also posted on AO3.
The darkness used to scare him, used to put him on edge and make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He had been taught to fear what hid in the dark, to never underestimate them. Monsters, the man in his memories roared. Saving people? Hunting things? That's the family business! Now? He had become one with the darkness, unable to see where the darkness ended and where he began. Was he a monster now? Had he become what the man in his mind would have hated? And so what if he was! It was comforting, to know that he'd never really be alone, that he had a home where he was wanted. Appreciated. That was a sharp contrast from his life before, where he was abandoned by his own flesh and blood, left for dead and only cared about when it was convenient for others.
But he didn't have to worry about that now, not with his new family. The family that truly loved him.
He and his father stood in a room, his bedroom, something he'd never had on his own. Although it was dark, he could see his father clearly, as if he were bathed in light, a beacon for Dean, anchoring him to this realm.
"Go on," his father urged him, pressing a small device in his hand. That's strange. His hand. He hadn't had a body in so long, being back in his was exhilarating, as if he was experiencing everything for the very first time. Looking down, the cool metal was something he was familiar with. A cell phone. It's lid with flipped open, and a number was flashing on the screen. His father smiled at him, caressing his face. "You can do it, Dean. I know you can. It's for closure. You have to make sure, or else you'll never be fully invested in our cause."
And he could. He could do it. He would do it. Not just for himself, but to make his father, his savior, proud. Pressing the call button, he lifted the phone to his ear, the canal filled with a low ringing. After what seemed like forever, someone answered.
"Who is this?"
That voice. Dean knew that voice, spent years around that voice, knew what it sounded like before puberty had taken over. Sammy. No, not Sammy anymore. Sammy left him, left him behind even after everything Dean did for him. Just Sam. Stanford Sam. Lawyer bound Sam.
"Hello?" Sam sounded annoyed now.
"Sam?" Dean spoke, and then there was silence on both ends. Sam's breathing picked up, and the little boy that Dean had raised growled back, "Don't ever call me again, Dean. We're done."
The line went dead, and before he could stop himself, he crushed the phone in his hand, a snarl ripping from his chest.
His father looked at him sadly, "Didn't I tell you?" he purred. And he had. He had warned Dean, warned his son that Sam would never be grateful for everything that Dean sacrificed for him, would never so much as utter a half hearted thanks. Angry tears slid down Dean's cheeks, and his father pulled him close, running a hand through his tousled hair. "They never loved you, Dean, not like me. They hurt you so much, my boy." He lifted Dean's head. Dean's bottom lip quivered, and he just barely stopped himself from throwing his body back in his father's loving arms. "But that's why we need to do this. You understand, don't you?" Dean nodded. "People like that, people that toss their own family away...they don't deserve to experience paradise. They haven't earned it."
He smiled at Dean, and Dean felt warmth fill his chest. What did it matter if Sam didn't want him, or that John had abandoned him? Those two didn't deserve his time, his love, his loyalty. They hadn't earned it. His father pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and took a step back.
"Get some rest, son," his father said. "You have a big day tomorrow!" His father vanished, leaving Dean alone in the dark room.
For a few minutes, Dean stood in the dark and just breathed, got used to feeling his chest rise and fall with every puff of oxygen. The crushed phone was till in his hand, and he let it fall to the floor, fingers flexing and curling into loose fists before relaxing again. With a flick of his wrist, a sole candle sitting on the dresser became ablaze, casting a dim glow. A shimmer from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning, he walked towards the partially open closet and stood in front of it.
Looking in the mirror, he recognized himself and at the same time, he was a completely different person. The confident posture, the smirk on his full lips. Hair thicker and slightly longer, body thicker with muscles, and his eyes...his eyes were black.
Jess had called him on his personal phone while he was at the office, and he was immediately worried when he picked up. Jess and he had gotten married three years ago, and after their first child, a beautiful daughter named Emily, she recently found out that she was pregnant again. It was Sam's fear that she'd fall and get hurt while he wasn't there, and it had taken a lot of convincing for him to stop working from home and to stop nagging her every five minutes. It had gotten even worse when their friend, Brady, and his girl were found brutally murdered in their homes a year ago, their torsos slashed open and their organs out on display. The local law enforcement had been horrified and for a months, they had enforced a curfew and had upped security drastically. Although no crime as bloody as that one had happened again, it had still unsettled the residents of Palo Alto. However, she did call to give him updates, and while it did slightly soothe his worrying ways, he just couldn't help himself.
"Hey," he said, already standing to shuffle his papers and put them in his briefcase. "You okay?"
"Don't freak out," Jessica begins, and Sam stiffens. "But -"
"What happened? Are you and Emily okay?" A million scenarios ran through his head, and it felt like he was going to have a seizure at the very thought of Jess and Emily sprawled across the floor, blood seeping from their bodies, the life in Jess's stomach snuffed out.
"We're fine," Jess assured him. "But...there's a guy named John Winchester asking for you. He says that he's your dad."
Five years, almost six. It had been almost six years since he had seen his father, and for John Winchester to have the audacity to show his face after everything he said all those years ago...
This was one grudge that he couldn't let go of, couldn't forgive.
A quiet rage settled over him, and he quietly asked his wife, "Did you let him inside?"
"No," Jessica replied. "I told him that he had to wait outside. He's sitting in his car right now."
"What kind of car is it? An Impala?"
"No," she said slowly, as if questioning his sanity. "It's a big black truck. Should he have an Impala? Oh, my god, Sam, do you think he stole this truck?"
"I don't know," Sam said. "Look, I'm coming back right now, okay? Keep the doors and windows locked, and don't let Em out of your sight. I'll be there soon."
John stepped out of his car once he saw Sam practically swerve into his driveway, and the second John got close, Sam's fist slammed against his father's jaw. John stumbled back, hand flying up to cradle the injured part of his face.
"Nice to see you too, Sammy," John grinned. "I'll give you that one," he said, referencing the hit. "But I won't hesitate next time."
"Next time," Sam sneered. "What the hell are you doing here? How the hell did you even know where I lived?"
"Do you really think I didn't keep tabs on you?"
"You've been stalking me!" Sam roared. "What a great way to show that you care!"
"You've been slacking," John growled back. "No salt lines, windows wide open. Honestly, Sam, that could be a shapeshifter instead of your wife in there!"
"Don't," Sam's voice got cold and quiet, "you dare." John scoffed. "You have no right to show up here."
"You didn't even invite me to the wedding," John grinned, and Sam thought he saw a flash of hurt in his father's eyes. "I got a granddaughter, huh? And another on the way."
Sam's hands twitched, eager to get reacquainted with his father's face, maybe even become best friends. Cutting off contact with John and Dean would be so they couldn't intrude and destroy his perfect life, couldn't take something else away from him. Speaking of Dean...
"Why aren't you driving the Impala?" Sam asked. "Where's Dean?"
John's face closed off, and his eyes darted to something behind Sam. He glanced behind him and saw Jess and Emily standing in the doorway, the phone in Jessica's hand very visibly ready to call 911. Sam ran a hand over his face. "It's okay, Jess," he called to her. "Just wait inside, I'll be there soon." She hesitated, before pulling Emily back into their house. He heard the door being locked behind her, and then saw her and Emily's heads peeking out from behind their curtains.
Sam turned back to his father, the urge to get physical leaving him with his family watching. Besides, he didn't want to make a habit of getting blood on his suits.
"Dean isn't here?" John said slowly.
Sam stared at him like he was crazy. "I haven't seen you or Dean in almost 6 years. Why would he be here?"
John swore and stepped back to angrily pace for a few steps. "When's the last time you spoke with Dean?"
"Six years ago."
"Six years ago?" John snapped. "You haven't talked to your brother in six years?!"
"The fact that you don't even know where your son is says that you haven't talked to him in a while either," Sam spat. "Dean is your son, your hunting partner. I figured he'd be too busy kissing your ass to wander off by himself."
John stepped forward and raised his hand, as if preparing to slap him. Sam stared down at him, ready for the worst. He was taller than his dad, and more in shape. If push came to shove, he could definitely take him out. John catches himself, no doubt because he realized that he had an audience. His hand lowers, and Sam's eyes narrow.
"Look," John begins. "I...I know that they way we left things wasn't ideal but -"
"You told me that if I left, then I need to stay gone. So I did. Seems like you're the only one who regrets that night." Sam's words send John careening back, as if the older man could not believe that Sam could so easily cut ties with him. Sam sighs heavily. "Look, I'm not...I'm not trying to be an asshole right now, but let's be honest dad. This is not the first time that you've left your kids behind and disappeared for a few weeks."
John opens his mouth to protest but Sam cuts him off.
"When it was just Dean and me, you would disappear for weeks, dad, and you wouldn't answer your phone, even if it was an emergency. All I'm saying is that...maybe Dean's returning the favor."
John snarls, "Dean would never -"
"Disobey his commanding officer's orders?" Sam smirks when John glowers at him. "That's your problem, Dad! You treat us like soldiers instead of children; you always have. I got tired of that shit really fast. Maybe Dean did, too." John's jaw clenches so hard that Sam half expects his teeth to shatter under the pressure.
Sam's prepared to bid his father farewell and forget this ever happened when John says, "We gotta go look for him."
For a second, Sam thinks he's joking. He starts to laugh, so hard that tears gather in his eyes. John looks like he wants to wring Sam's neck, but wouldn't dare do such a thing in a public place.
"Dad," Sam says slowly, as if talking to an infant. "I'm not going anywhere to look for anyone."
John gapes at him for a brief moment before anger overtakes his features. "The hell do you mean you aren't going to go look for Dean?"
"I left," Sam said in a steady voice. "I left because of shit like this. I know it's probably breaking your heart to think that Dean isn't asking how high when you say jump, but there are two possibilities that you just aren't accepting. One, Dean fucked off to do what he wants for the first time in his life because he got tired of you pushing him around. Or two, some wendigo -."
John lunges forward and takes a handful of Sam's pressed suit, wrinkling the expensive material. Sam bares his teeth. "Don't you dare," John snarls, "imply that Dean would be so careless on a hunt."
"Is that your concern right now?" Sam demanded. "That Dean got careless, and not that Dean could be dead?"
"You know that's not what I meant."
Sam shoves his hand off and takes a step back. "How would I know that? How would Dean know that? All you've done was leave us in filthy hotels, with barely enough to eat, lugging us around from school to school. It's never been about us! We have never been your first priority, Dad, so don't act like you suddenly give a shit about either of our well beings!" He moves to take his briefcase and satchel out of the backseat, locking the doors behind him. Moving towards the door, he tells his father. "I'm not going to help you look for Dean because honestly, I don't care. That's not my responsibility anymore. I'm not the one that should have been looking out for him. I wanted out of hunting, so I got out. And I'm not going to jump back in just because you're a little twitchy over losing your best soldier. Get off my property or I'm calling the police."
With that, he turns his back on his father and heads inside, Jessica letting him in and locking the door behind him.
John stands in the driveway, staring at the closed door, watching the rustling of curtains as a curious Emily tried to catch another glimpse of him. Fists clenched and mouth tight, he stomps back to his truck and climbs in, revving the engine before peeling away from the curb and disappearing down the street. From the window, Sam watches him go, glad to seal that part of his life away.