My Brother's Keeper
Author: Otterling
A/N: Just a random aside here, I don't have a beta for this at the moment, so I apologize that these chapters are just sort of running out of my head and onto paper. _
The usual stuff applies here. I don't own any of these characters. This was just a plot bug caught in my head. _
Warnings: Violence and language. Also, there will be COPIOUS amounts of adorable in here. Be warned.
CHAPTER 2!
ONE WEEK PREVIOUS:
It was 12:59pm when all the power in the small town of Alamance, NC died. Dean and Sam were sitting at a small rickety table in a diner that had seen better days when the lights flickered and the warbling voice of Patsy Cline on the corner jukebox came to a sudden stop. The haggard looking waitress, who had been serving them two platefuls of what Sam could only assume was the living picture of a coronary in progress, actually looked interested for the first time since the two of them had walked in. Dean was pretty sure it was the first time she'd looked interested in anything in her life. The older Winchester peeled his eyes away from the plate of watery mashed potatoes in front of him to glance out the window. The afternoon sun was beating down on the weathered old street outside without so much as a single cloud in sight. Strange then that the power outage seemed to have affected the whole strip.
Dean looked up to find Sam giving him a meaningful if concerned stare and as the waitress moved away mumbling something about calling the power company, Dean put on a smile that somehow failed to reach his eyes. "'S probably just some idiot plowing their truck into a pole somewhere, Sammy," he said as he poked disinterestedly at the charred steak sitting in front of him. The comment was meant to reassure his brother though Dean hated to admit to himself that it was just as much to comfort his own uneasiness. He'd been understandably jumpy about any strange weather patterns or large scale power outages since the whole apocalypse thing ended. The two of them were healing both inside and out from the whole ordeal and as the days had turned into months with no more sign of demons, Dean had slowly learned to relax. Still, on occasion, he'd find himself waking up with a scream in his throat and a desperate need to make sure Sam was still asleep in the other bed but things had gotten slowly better over time and a whole year had passed since they had laid the devil to rest.
The younger Winchester didn't look convinced but he returned the smile with one of his own and turned his attention to his plate of so called food. "Yeah," he said softly, "car accident." It was a sad thing, as far as Sam was concerned, when the idea of a mangled vehicle was a lot better than the alternatives but he couldn't help but hope it was true. He'd had more than his fill of demons and angels, with the only notable exception being Castiel. Thought admittedly, Sam was sort of glad he hadn't seen even him since the night Cas had pulled Sam back from the pit and handed him over to Dean. There hadn't been much in the way of words what with Sam trying to find his feet enough to make it into Bobby's livingroom and Dean fretting over him like a mother hen. By the time everyone had looked up, Castiel was gone again and Dean had only muttered the word "typical" before tending to his brother. They hadn't really mentioned angels or demons around each other since then but secretly Sam had said a small thank you prayer to Cas that night. It was, he felt, the least he could do for the person that pulled him out of hell.
The boys eventually gave up on trying to finish their meals at the diner after a half an hour was spent trying to actually identify anything on the plates and for once Sam didn't argue when Dean said that drive-thru sounded like a good idea. The smell of grease soaked wrappers and french-fries filled the impala a short while later as the hunters pulled back into the parking lot of their cheap hotel. Sam's arms were full with a large plastic bag overflowing with mini hamburgers, napkins, and enough packets of ketchup to choke a horse. "Dean, what's the point of getting these things if you're just going to coat them in enough condiments to mask the taste anyway? Why not just suck the ketchup right out of the package?" Sam held aloft one of the offending foil packets.
"Because the meat just gives me the illusion of having ketchup I can chew," Dean said with a grin as he climbed out of the car.
"Dean, they HAVE ketchup you can chew. It's called a tomato."
Dean paused on his way to the hotel door and looked back at Sam with mock confusion. "You mean those things they keep putting on my burgers that make it hard to keep the ketchup on?" He smiled mischievously as Sam just rolled his eyes. "No thanks, Sammy, I'll stick to my vegetables being pureed and stuffed with enough preservatives to mummify my insides, thank you." Dean unlocked the door to their room and promptly stopped as soon as he set foot inside. His gun was in his hand in the blink of an eye and he could hear Sam pull up short behind him. He had no doubt his little brother was already pulling his own weapon and would have his back if things got ugly. Dean swept his gun before him as he edged in further and took in the sight that waited for them. The room was a mess. Thick lines were burnt into the walls in a spiderweb pattern of intersecting scorch marks, furniture was upturned and even in some cases all but obliterated. The bathroom sink had been utterly shattered into little more than dust and one of the two beds in the room had been completely flipped over, its mattress leaning against a corner haphazardly. The scent of ozone still hung thick in the air, under scored by a tang of copper, and every single electronic device in the room looked like it had spontaneously exploded while a thick pattern of dark red smeared the walls and carpet in a spray that would have put Pollack to shame.
Dean shifted through the mess with an ease born of practice as he cleared the room to make sure there weren't any lingering opponents. "What the hell happened in here?" breathed Sam from just inside the doorway, "it looks like world war three was started in our room."
Dean took in all the evidence and slowly holstered his gun. "You might not be far off," he grumbled, kicking at an overturned lamp, "from the looks of it, I'd say Gabriel is back and was paying us a visit." Sam shot his brother a look of mild confusion and Dean pointed angrily at the only remaining bed which looked like it had been plucked straight from an eight year old girl's room. "You know anyone else who would sneak into our hotel room and put My Little Pony sheets on our beds?" Sam groaned and dropped the bag of food onto the only chair that remained of their small kitchenette.
"Well if it was Gabriel then something interrupted him. The pony sheets are definitely him," Sam said with obvious distaste, "but it doesn't make sense that he'd make the beds up this way only to then destroy the whole room."
Dean shrugged. "Angel sized temper tantrum?" he offered optimistically though even he knew it was grasping at straws. Gabriel wasn't the "tear apart a room in a fit of anger" kind of guy. He was more the "kill you over and over again in many many ways just to prove a point" kind. That and Dean doubted the angel would leave without both he and Sammy knowing who it was that had played the trick and why. Gabe liked getting credit for his inventive uses of angelic power and he would no doubt want to let the brothers know that he'd returned from the dead in the most outrageous and obnoxious way possible.
"I don't think so, Dean," Sam said as he took in all the damage, his gaze falling and lingering on the spray of red at his feet. "If it was…then who is painted all over our walls and floor?" He shot a nervous look in Dean's direction. He was pretty sure neither of them really wanted to know who all that blood belonged to. As much as Gabriel could be a massive pain in the ass, neither brother really wanted to think of him being torn to ribbons. He'd already been killed once on their account and neither brother wanted to consider what kind of creature was wandering around that could have shredded an archangel. Dean opened his mouth to respond but paused before the words could form as his eyes scanned across the room once more and fell upon a soft light emanating from under the remaining bed. He gestured to Sam to let him know he'd found something and then drew his weapon as he crouched down.
Dean leaned heavily on one shoulder to peer under the bed with his weapon in one hand while he used the other to pull up the covers. There, hidden among a plethora of dust bunnies and lost fingernail clippings was a large oblong lump that was pulsing with a gentle white glow. He narrowed his eyes at it and considered his options for a minute before tentatively reaching out and giving it a quick poke. The object was hard to the touch and didn't stir at his prodding so Dean threw caution to the wind and began carefully scooting it in his direction. It was wedged fairly tightly under the mattress and as it came free from the dark recess of the bed at last, Dean sat up and stared in complete confusion. Sam moved up behind him and watched from over his shoulder. "What…what IS that?" Sam said with a note of awe. Dean tucked his gun away and carefully reached out to lift the glowing orb. It was heavier than he expected and strangely warm to the touch.
"Hell if I know," Dean mumbled as he turned the strange pulsing orb over in his hands. It was slightly smaller than a dodgeball and one end was a little more narrow than the other.
"It looks kinda like an egg," Sam offered helpfully, at which point Dean set the orb right back down and stepped away from it, drawing his gun as he went. "What are you doing?" Sam cried out as he grabbed Dean's arm, "What, you're just going to SHOOT it?"
Dean yanked his arm free and spun to face his brother. "YES, Sam, I'm going to shoot it. And do you know WHY? Because every freakin' alien movie starts this way. Only this thing was left here after what looks like a hell of an archangel battle royal. I'm getting rid of this thing before it hatches and lays eggs in our throats."
Sam huffed angrily and stepped around Dean to snatch the egg up from the floor. "We can't just kill it, Dean. We don't even know what it is yet," he said as he examined the strange egg.
"Oh, I promise we can kill it," Dean offered helpfully, waving his gun for emphasis. "Besides, what else are we gonna do with it? Sit on it and see if it hatches? Make a massive glow in the dark omelet? Let's just destroy the damned thing and get the hell out of here before whatever did this comes back. For all we know it's that thing's mommy."
It was obvious from Sam's fascinated expression though that he wasn't even paying attention to Dean anymore. He was slowly turning the egg over and over in his hands, watching the pearly light it cast across his skin. "Dean, we can't just kill it until we know what it is. If it hatches and it's a monster, then we can kill it. Otherwise, I don't feel right just splattering the thing without knowing. I mean, what if Gabe left this here? It was hidden, right? What if he came here to tell us about this and got attacked?"
Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to remind himself that he didn't REALLY want to shoot his own brother. "Fine," he grumbled eventually, "but YOU'RE egg-sitting till that thing spawns." With that, Dean turned on his heel and snatched the bag of hamburgers from the kitchen as he made his way back out to the car with Sam and egg in tow.
A/N: Reviews are love. I'd like to know if people are enjoying this and don't hesitate to offer critisism as long as it's constructive. I can't grow as a writer if I don't realize I'm doing something wrong. ;)
