Title: Red As Blood, Ch. 2
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Jared, will become Sam/Dean/Jared
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction

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Dean grunted and rolled over, smashing his phone into the mattress before getting a grip and flipping it open.

"Yeah?" He croaked, glaring at the clock as it glared 4:36am back at him.

"Dean Winchester?" A woman's voice on the other end, unfamiliar and shaky.

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Are you Sam's brother?"

Dean sat up, a bad feeling curdling in his gut. "Yeah, and you are?"

"Oh god. I'm one of Sam's friends from school, Becky." She broke off and Dean realized she was crying. "There was a fire at Sam's apartment. Jessica's dead, but Sam... no one knows what happened to Sam. The only remains they found were Jessica's."

"My God," Dean paused to process. "Wait, who's Jessica?"

"Sam's girlfriend -- you didn't know Jessica?" Becky sounded suspicious, but Dean didn't have the energy to come up with a story for her.

"No, Sam and I . . . haven't exactly been close lately."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dean, but Sam may be okay... wherever he is."

Dean thanked her for calling and hung up with a promise to call her if he needed a place to stay in Palo Alto. He stared at nothing for a while before shaking himself. Sam was out there somewhere, and he was okay, Dean just had to find him.

He called John and left a voicemail to let him know that Dean wouldn't be going after that poltergeist in Anaheim after all. He knew that would get him a quick call back, and twenty minutes later, Dean was on his way to northern California.

--

Palo Alto revealed nothing, didn't give Dean one clue as to what might have happened to Sam. He learned that the beautiful blonde girl he'd seen with Sam a couple of times had been Jessica. Dean also learned that Sam was just as happy here, with Jessica, as Dean had thought all those times he'd snuck onto Stanford's campus and watched from the sidelines.

After speaking with John, Dean was headed east, back to Lawrence, Kansas. God, he couldn't believe he had to go back to that town. But John insisted, telling Dean about a friend of his, a psychic who still lived there. John wasn't sure she'd have any answers either, but he figured she was their best bet for a lead.

Dean was lost in thought when he saw it, his headlights picked up a large... something on the side of the road, looked like a body. Dean backed up and turned his car so that the lights were resting on the mysterious mass. The road was pretty much abandoned, so Dean didn't hesitate to grab a shotgun before stepping out of the car.

It was a teenage boy, his jeans and t-shirt bloodied and torn as his body. Dean knelt next to him, carefully setting the shotgun down, but keeping it within his reach. He grasped a shoulder and rolled the boy gently onto his back. The kid whimpered, but didn't come to.

"Damnit," Dean muttered, standing and going back over to get some holy water out of the trunk. The kid didn't even whimper at the holy water, but Dean had already figured out this was just a regular hurt kid, who Dean would have to take the time to help. "Son of a bitch."

It was only as Dean tried to lift the boy that he realized how tall he must be, but he was skinny... definitely a beanpole. Dean snickered as he got the boy settled into the backseat, remembering when Sam had been nothing but skin and bones and height.

That thought just had him cursing his luck again. Dean didn't have time to be a good samaritan. He put his gun on the floor of the front seat, and glanced in the rearview mirror at the reflection of a broken boy. Dean sighed heavily, didn't look like he had a choice.

Dean stopped at a hotel in the first town he came to, and got a double. He carried his bags in first, before securing a blanket around the kid and taking him in. Dean gingerly set his burden down on the far bed, and pulled the blanket away. He grabbed a couple of washcloths and his medkit before settling next to the boy. He cut the t-shirt away first, carefully peeling away the sweat- and blood-soaked cotton.

Dean winced, noting long gashes across the boy's torso. He poked at them a bit and realized they weren't very deep, didn't even need stiches. His patient hissed and opened his eyes, staring at Dean through a glaze of pain.

"Easy there, kid." The boy's eyes rolled back in his head as he started to go under again, but Dean smacked his cheek. "Hey, stay with me a second. Can you tell me your name? Give me your folks' number?"

"Um . . . thirsty."

Dean about smacked himself and jumped to grab his bottled water. He supported the kid's head and let him sip, and Dean finally took a moment to study the battered face. "Holy shit!" He couldn't help the exclamation. He set the water down and ran a wet cloth over the boy's face. The kid blinked at him blearily and Dean felt like his heart was about to pound out of his chest.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Jared." His brows drew together in an all-too-familiar expression, and Dean bit his lip to keep from saying something crazy. "Do I know you?"

"I don't think so. Found you on the road, and it looks like something messed you up pretty good." When Dean realized the kid was almost unconscious again, he decided it was okay to release the crazy. "Oh, and you happen to look exactly like my little brother."

"Hmm, that's nice," Jared's voice trailed off as he turned his head into the pillow, and then he was out.

Dean realized that he was smiling softly at the boy and shook himself. This was a completely unexpected (and kind of cool) turn of events, but it wasn't getting him any closer to finding Sam. He got Jared cleaned up and bandaged, after making sure nothing was broken or needed stitches. Then he climbed into the other bed and passed out, knowing he had about four hours before he needed to hit the road again.

--

Dean smacked his phone into silence and rolled over to peer at the opposite bed. Jared was still there, snoring softly with his mouth agape. Huh, Dean thought, not my imagination after all.

He mulled over what to do about the kid as he got his junk together and showered. It was really tempting to take off without him, maybe just leave Jared some cash for bus fare. Dean paused over the sleeping boy, caught by that familiar face, and Dean knew he wouldn't be leaving without him. Dean had never left Sam; Sam had left Dean.

Whatever, he shrugged and squeezed Jared's shoulder, shaking him a little. Jared's eyes fluttered and opened. He frowned at Dean for a long moment before breaking into a bright smile that hit Dean hard. Haven't seen that smile in years… he thought. Even as battered and bruised as he was, Jared was an adorable kid.

"Who are you again? And where am I?" Jared asked, nose all scrunched up in confusion. He glanced away before Dean answered, grabbing the water from the nightstand and draining it in one go.

Dean smiled. "Dean Winchester and we're in the grand state of Utah. I found you in the middle of the road last night, beat to hell." He stepped back and looked the kid over. "I gotta tell ya, you're pretty ripe. You feel up to taking a shower?"

"Sure, man." Jared responded, shifting around and preparing to stand. He didn't get much further than the that though, falling back to the bed with a pained sound.

"Yeah, okay. How about I help you in there and you do what you can?" Dean stepped back in and held out his hands. Jared laughed in embarrassment and got a good grip, allowing Dean to pull him up. Hah! Jared was only an inch or so taller than Dean.

Dean led Jared into the bathroom and propped him against the sink. He stepped back slowly, ready to catch Jared if he lost his balance.

Jared smiled at him. "I think I'm good, thanks. Um… clothes?"

It suddenly hit Dean that this teenage boy had woken up in a stranger's hotel room, in nothing but a pair of boxers. Dean felt himself flush. "No, I--well, they were… I had to cut them off to get to your wounds."

Jared was just staring at him like he'd grown another head. "Yeah, I thought so. I just need something else to wear…"

"Oh. Yeah, no, I knew that. I was just--clothes! Okay, one second." Dean backed out of the bathroom, feeling like a complete idiot.

He heard the water run and turned to see Jared leaning over the sink. God, the kid was so bony it looked like his spine was trying to burst through the skin. Dean hurriedly picked out an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Since he wasn't about to give the kid used underwear, Dean just figured he'd let Jared keep the sweats.

Back in the bathroom, Jared was trying to wash his hair and not having much luck. Dean grabbed one of the complimentary cups and stepped up next to him. "Hey, want some help with that?"

"Sure." Jared's voice echoed up from the basin, as he kept his wet head down. At least his hair was short, just barely covering the tips of his ears.

Dean scrubbed the dirt, grit and grease from Jared's baby-fine hair and then set the clothes on the back of the toilet. He went out to grab coffee and a couple of croissants, and was happy to find Jared ready to go when he returned to the room. Dean paused to take an inventory of Jared's wounds in the light of day. Thankfully, the only visible injuries were the cut over his right eye, bruised cheekbone and chin, and the cuts on his forearms; two slashes on the right, one on the left. Dean would just give him a jacket if they needed to stop somewhere.

Once outside, Jared made all the appropriate cooing noises over the Impala, and Dean decided that this kid really may be all right. They got back onto Highway 50 and Dean turned his music down, but kept his eyes firmly forward.

"So… Jared. What's going on with you?"

"Er… what do you mean?" Jared tried to sound light, but Dean could see that he was biting his lip.

"Are you kidding me? I find you on the side of the road, looking half-dead. You wake up in a stranger's room and don't try to call your parents? Hell, you didn't even seem all that worried."

"Look man, if I tell you the truth, you're really not going to believe me." Jared had graduated to chewing on his fingertips now. That was weird, and it was doing weird things to Dean.

Dean looked away and snorted. "Try me, you'd be surprised by what I'm willing to believe."

Jared sighed heavily and turned to look out the window, raising one bony shoulder like a shield. "I got attacked by something last night. I don't know what it was, but…" He trailed off, struggling with words. Dean heard what Jared had already revealed--he'd been attacked by something, not someone--and he wanted this kid to tell him the truth, didn't want Jared to make something up.

"I'm a demon hunter."

Jared's head whipped around so fast Dean was afraid he'd sprained something. "Excuse me?"

"I hunt demons. Well… demons, spirits, zombies, supernatural creatures."

Jared was staring a hole into the side of Dean's face, waiting for the punchline. "Jared. I'm not kidding and I don't want you telling me a story. Now, what happened to you last night?"

Jared sighed, but it sounded like a good sigh. "I don't know, something I couldn't see tore me up. I couldn't fight it--thought I was going to die. It flung me around like a ragdoll, and then it started cutting me, so I--"

"Yeah?" Dean prompted.

"Um. I teleported."

Dean's brows shot up. "You teleported?"

"Yeah, it's amazing! I mean, I can't control it yet, but it saved my ass last night. I can't believe I ended up in Utah!" Okay, looked like Jared had officially broken out of his shell.

"Wow, seems like you really do have a story to tell me." Dean couldn't help but smile; it was hard to believe, but Dean had probably encountered stranger things, and Jared's excitement was infectious. He pushed a little harder on the gas pedal and let Jared's words flow over him. He wondered what Sam's reaction would be to Jared, and his smile cranked up another notch. That was a meeting he'd love to see. "Wait," Dean dug his phone out of his pocket and threw it at Jared. "Call your parents."

"Nah, I can't. They're gonna freak."

Dean took a deep breath; teenagers were so stupid. "So, you think they're not freaking out right now?"

Jared shifted guiltily. "Well yeah, but what am I gonna tell them? That I got attacked by an invisible monster and teleported to Utah?"

Dean frowned; kid had a point. "Tell them you took off with some friends. I can play the older brother or something."

"Hmph. That might work, but they're still gonna kill me when I get home."

"I don't care. Call them, or I pull over and let you hitch a ride back to--hey, where are you from, anyway?"

"San Antonio." Jared scowled at him, but picked up the phone and dialed.

Dean smirked and turned back to the road. He'd step away from Jared at lunch and give John a call. Only fair to give him a heads up on something like this.

--

They stopped to eat just outside of Grand Junction, Colorado. Dean motioned Jared to go ahead in and get a table, and then called his Dad.

Dean was shocked when John picked up on the second ring, answering with a gruff, "Dean, where are you?"

"Grand Junction--"

"What? I thought you'd almost be here by now."

Dean turned to check on Jared through the diner window. "Yeah, I know. Listen, I picked someone up--"

"Dean, what the hell?" John barked, cutting Dean off again.

"Sir, if you'd let me finish?" Dean didn't pause long enough for a response. "I found this kid on the side of the road, all beaten up. I patched him up and I'm bringing him with me 'cause... well, it's a long story. I wanted to give you a heads up though, 'cause he's the spitting image of Sam."

John took a moment to digest the news. "This kid looks exactly like Sam?"

"Yeah, it's crazy."

"Dean, why on earth do you believe the thing you're with is human? Sounds like a shapeshifter or a changeling to me, and you're just driving around with it?" John's voice was rough with scorn and Dean felt himself flush.

"Dad, I'm not an idiot. Jared's human, all right? He just happens to look a lot like Sam. Yes, it's weird, but it's not like that kind of thing never happens naturally. I gotta go, but I'll see you soon. Should be there late tonight."

"Yeah. Think I got a couple of leads on Sammy. You just get here, soon as you can."

Dean closed his eyes as the bottled-up worry for Sam washed over him. "I will."

He hung up and headed into the diner, where mini-Not Sam awaited him. He dropped into the booth heavily and Jared looked up, quirking a brow.

Dean flashed a plastic smile. "Had to call my dad, let him know I'd be bringing company." His eyes dropped to the greasy menu in front of him and he sighed. "Jared, you mind if we get this to go?"

Jared's brow crinkled and he radiated concern, and Dean wished he wouldn't do that. "Sure, Dean. Um... I don't have my wallet or anything, so I--"

"Hey, I can take care of you for now. Don't worry about it, eat whatever you want."

Jared flashed him a sweet, sheepish smile. "Thanks, man. I'll pay you back, I promise."

Just then the waitress came by, and Dean's jaw dropped when she ruffled Jared's hair. "You know what you want yet, sugar?"

Jared ducked his head and gave her one of those smiles. "Sure, Rhonda. Can I have a cheeseburger with everything except onions, a grilled chicken breast, a salmon patty, a house salad and an order of cheese bread? Oh, and can I start with a bowl of your tortilla soup?"

Rhonda's eyes widened as she wrote, mirroring Dean's expression, but then she grinned in approval. "I guess no one's been starving you after all, honey. Got it." She turned to Dean. "And for you?"

Dean shook his head and ordered a single burger with fries.

"Oh, I forgot to get it to go." Jared started to stand, but Dean waved him back down.

"Nevermind, no way I want you eating all that in my car. Just don't take all day, and we'll be fine."

Jared was like bizarro Sam. At lunch, Dean had watched in amazement as Jared had everyone in a ten foot radius eating out of his large, ungainly hand within minutes. Even the fact that he talked with food in his mouth was endearing. Dean knew he should stop comparing Jared to Sam, but it wasn't like he could help it--they were like clones. The only thing Jared was missing was Sam's moles.

Dean had to wonder if Sam would have been like this without the fire, if he'd had a Mom to help shape him.

"So where's your brother? The one I'm supposed to look like?" Jared's question interrupted Dean's musings, and he frowned.

"I don't exactly know where Sam is. That's why I'm meeting my dad, he said he's got a couple of leads."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is everyone in your family a hunter?" Jared asked around a mouthful of sour candies. How he managed to sound sincere like that was beyond Dean, but he did.

"Yeah, sorta. Sammy left, went off to college, but he was raised to hunt." Dean really didn't want to talk about this anymore. "What about you? Got any brothers or sisters?"

"I have an older brother, Alex, and a younger sister, Melissa." He turned to look back out the window. "I don't know what to do, Dean. Jeff's my best friend, but how can I tell him about this stuff? I can't tell anyone, they're gonna think I'm crazy."

Dean sighed. "We'll figure something out. We have to get you back to your family, but not until it's safe. If you went back now, that thing would probably find you and your family. Here's more crazytalk for ya; the woman we're going to meet is a psychic. I guess she's helped my dad before, and I'm hoping she can help you."

Jared reached out and patted Dean on the shoulder. "I'm sure she'll help you find your brother, too."

Dean scowled, but melted a little inside. "Yeah, thanks."

He'd never come across a sweeter kid, and he wasn't sure how to react to Jared. Dean was used to kids being sarcastic and jerky and, you know, kids. Not that Sam hadn't been sweet, he had, but by the time he'd gotten to Jared's age, Sam's temper had been on a hair-trigger. He'd been moody and withdrawn most of the time, and he'd spent the rest of his time fighting with Dad.

--

They ended up stopping for dinner at a run down bar called B-Hive in Colby, Kansas--another smallish town without much to offer, and Dean wanted a steak and a beer. It wasn't too crowded, just a little after nine o'clock, but there were a few people already on their way to being sloshed.

"This is so cool! My parents would never let me go to a place like this." Jared was practically vibrating with excitement. "Dean, you are so cool, really. I mean it. The coolest, even."

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his head back against the booth. "Calm down, Jared. It's really not a big deal."

Jared looked at him like Dean was the crazy one. "Maybe not for you." He leaned forward, eyes alight. "Hey, can you teach me how to play pool?"

"Not tonight, we're kind of in a hurry. Remember?" Dean didn't snap at him, but still felt like a jerk for playing the straight guy.

Jared dimmed, sinking back into his seat immediately. "God Dean, I'm sorry. I get distracted kind of easily." He looked so freakin' upset that Dean had to reach over and squeeze his shoulder.

"It's okay, buddy. I'd love to teach you, maybe we'll get a chance in Lawrence."

Jared managed a smile and had obviously recovered by the time their waitress came over, ordering half the menu again. The woman, a young and pretty brunette, seemed to think it was a joke until Jared looked up at her, all earnest eyes and dimples. The sour look on her face melted into a smitten expression, and Dean wanted to groan; this kid was ridiculous.

She turned to take Dean's order and her eyes widened. "You two brothers or something?"

"Yeah, why?" Dean grinned, that was the easiest lie he'd ever told. He even had the family pictures to back it up.

She met his grin with a wink. "Good genes, is all. What'll you be having tonight?" And oh, how Dean wished he could stick around till she got off work.

He bit his lip. "Steak, medium well, and whatever you have on tap."

"You got it." She licked her bottom lip and Dean wanted to cry as he watched her walk back to the kitchen.

"Ahahahahaah!" Jared's belly laugh rudely brought him back from fantasyland.

"Shut up, brat."

"Oh God, Dean--your face!"

"Shut up." Dean stood with a scowl. "I gotta take a leak."

"Yeah, sure. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" And if Jared wasn't so cute--white teeth, blinding against tan skin, smiling eyes, and those freaking dimples--Dean would probably have something to say about how clever the kid thought he was.

As it was, Dean just flapped a hand at him dismissively as he headed to the back.

Jared wasn't in the booth when he returned. Dean frowned and looked around the bar, shoulders relaxing as he spotted Jared at one of the pool tables. He was holding a pool stick and talking animatedly to a middle aged guy wearing plaid and a trucker cap. As Dean watched, the guy gestured for Jared to line up a shot. Jared bent over the table and the guy plastered himself to Jared's back.

Dean cracked his knuckles as he closed in, and couldn't believe what he heard once he was close enough.

"So, is this right?" Jared asked, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was being molested.

"Hey!" Jared started at Dean's shout and his would-be assailant jumped clear. "What the fuck, man? This kid is fifteen." The guy's mouth worked, but Dean wasn't in the mood to hear excuses from a child molester. "You're fucking disgusting! Get out of here. Now."

Dean was shaking when he turned back to Jared and barked out, "You okay?"

Jared stared at him with big eyes, completely confused. "Yeah. Dean, he was just trying to teach me how to shoot pool . . ."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "Jared." He stopped, not even sure where to begin. He didn't think he'd ever been this naive. "Just, please don't ask a strange man in a bar to teach you how to play pool, ever again. Just don't. Okay?"

He nodded, and seemed to be stuck staring at Dean. Dean took the pool stick from him and put it back on the rack. Then he gripped Jared's wrist loosely and led him back to their booth. People were staring, but Dean could give a shit what they thought.

"What's wrong, Dean? Are you mad at me?"

"Oh my god. No, I'm not mad at you!" Jared shrank back against the booth, and Dean took a deep breath. "Okay, that was really unconvincing, but it's true. I'm not mad at you, but I'd really like for you to be a little less trusting. It's important, especially when you're out on the road. There are a lot of nasty people out there, ya know?"

Jared promised, but Dean knew that was the kind of lesson you had to learn the hard way, and he kind of hoped Jared never did.

--

Jared was out, his face smashed against the passenger window, by the time Dean pulled up to Missouri Mosely's house. He verified the address again before getting out of the car as quietly as he could. Dean stepped away from the car and called his dad. It was almost 2am and he didn't want to wake someone he didn't know, especially if he had the wrong house.

"You here?" John sounded wide awake.

"I'm here."

"Great, on my way down."

Dean closed his phone and stuffed it in his back pocket. He popped the trunk, pulling out his clothes duffel and gun duffel. John came down the steps just as Dean was opening the passenger-side door. Jared spilled out, but didn't wake as Dean caught him. He stood up as John reached the car and nodded at the bags by his feet.

"Got 'em." John picked up the bags and led Dean back inside. "You can put him on the couch."

Dean got Jared settled, amazed that the kid didn't bat an eyelid. Jared scared Dean on a fundamental level; how had he managed to survive so long? He had no survival instincts whatsoever. John set the bags down and came over to look at Jared, whose face was clear in the light from the hall. "Damn, you weren't kidding."

Something in Dean's chest twisted as he watched his father run a gentle hand over Jared's cheek and into his hair. "Looks just like our Sammy..."

"Yeah," And damnit, now was not the time for crying. Dean coughed softly and shook his head. "But he's not, he's nothing like Sam, actually. Where we doing this? Kitchen?"

"Yeah, this way." John stepped away from the sleeping boy and led Dean down the hall towards the back of the house.

When they reached the kitchen John turned around, hugging Dean tightly. "Good to see you, son." Dean let his head drop to his dad's shoulder, hugging back just as hard.

"You too."

John stepped back, patting Dean briskly. "Coffee?"

"Sure, thanks." They both knew it was going to be a long night.