Thanks for the amazing response! Really appreciate it! You are all fabulous!! Here's the next chapter, as promised. Chapter 5 will be up soon. Not sure if it will continue after that, though.
Chapter 4
Dean enjoyed the feel of hard metal tools in his hands. Tools were reliable, dependable. He wiped away a thin trickle of sweat as he checked the air filter. He grimaced at the filthy thing. It was probably pumping more pollutants into the air at this point. He wondered how Jess' car even managed to start in this condition. He grabbed the box containing the new air filter he purchased earlier with the rest of his tune-up supplies. The box popped open under his experienced hands.
"You look like a natural in there," a voice said from behind him.
Dean jumped, whipping around. A gal close to Sam's age was standing behind him. "Huh?" She was pretty, there was no doubt about that. Bright green eyes and short, sassy auburn hair decorated a rather nice package. His eyeballs were definitely getting a workout here. No wonder Sam chose Stanford!
"I said, you look like a natural," she repeated, stepping closer. "You didn't call me, Dean."
"Huh?" He really needed to work on his vocabulary. His eyes zipped over to the house, hoping to see Sam headed his way. No such luck.
She sighed. "Dean, I thought you liked me. You said you'd call."
He backed away, but Jess' car bumper stopped him cold. Dean swallowed hard. "Um, Christine? I didn't know..didn't realize…how…you're pretty." Oh god, he was such a dork!
She looked puzzled. "Jess called me this morning to tell me how shy you really were. I didn't believe her." Christine stared at him a moment. He felt the sweat pouring down his face and it was relatively cool out. She took another step closer. He heard the blood roaring in his ears, heat steamed off his face, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. Dean wondered if this was the beginning of a panic attack. The therapists used to tell him he was always on the verge of one.
Christine was standing right in front of him now. Dean shut his eyes, hoping to bring himself under control. He felt something press against his lips. Part of him wanted to bolt, to run as far away as possible. But it was the other part that was in control now, the part he tried not to associate with, the part that was kissing the girl back. Why did he try to avoid this part of himself again? When he opened his eyes, he was slightly surprised to find that he was holding Christine against him, looking down into green eyes that could take his breath away.
"Hi," he heard himself say. "I'm glad you came by."
"Why didn't you call?" she asked, smiling at him.
"I'm stupid?" Where was this coming from? Pod people? Was he possessed? Yeah, right, like possession was even possible.
She laughed. "There's another party tonight. Want to go with me?"
He shook his head. "Not to a party." What was he saying? "Dinner?" Who the hell said that, and why did it sound like his voice?
Christine grinned at him. "I'll meet you here at seven." As she walked away, Dean's eyes roved up and down the subtle curves of her body and rested on her swaying hips. What was it about those hips that just..
"Hey, Dean." For the second time, Dean jumped and spun around. Sam stood behind him, grinning from ear to ear.
"Hey, Sam." Oh, shit. How long was his little brother standing there? "Um, Jess' car is in terrible shape. Looks like it's never had a tune-up." He leveled a finger at Sam. "You should know better."
The wide grin did not waver. "Christine's a nice girl, huh?" Sam leaned over the fender, glancing down into engine. "So, you two going out maybe?"
Dean cleared his throat, reaching for the new air filter. "Later," he said as he slipped the filter in place.
"You'll tell me later?" Sam asked, handing Dean the wingnut for securing the air filter cover.
Dean avoided looking at his brother. "Nope." He spun the wingnut in place. "Going out later tonight."
He felt Sam lean into his shoulder. "You dog."
Dean shrugged, but he could not force the grin on his face away. "Go grab the oil. After I put the oil plug back in and put in fresh oil, we'll be done here. Then we'll need to take it for a spin, make sure there's nothing really wrong."
When Dean came in late that night, he was slightly surprised to find Sam waiting up for him. Just slightly surprised, because Sam always had looked out for him. He dropped down on the couch next to his younger brother who was watching him with expectant eyes.
"Dude, if I had a gal like Jess waiting on me, I sure wouldn't be hanging around waiting for my doofus brother." Dean looked pointedly toward the bedroom.
Sam chuckled. "Jess will still be there in ten minutes."
"Probably asleep, you idiot." Dean shook his head. Where were Sam's priorities, anyway?
"No big deal," Sam shrugged. He leaned forward to whisper, "So, you're back late." Dean could see his brother's eyes shining with anticipation.
"Yeah." He let out a long, drawn-out sigh of contentment. "Christine is really…nice."
"Dude, it's like three in the morning and all you have to say is she's really nice?" Sam gave him a shove in the shoulder.
"Yep." He jerked his head toward the bedroom. "Get out, you're on my bed."
Sam's arms folded over his chest in an all too familiar pose. "I want details."
"You're not getting any," Dean replied with a grin. "So get going. I'm really tired."
"Are you?" Sam grinned back. "Why? What happened?"
"What? Are we a couple of teenage girls? Get your ass to bed!" Dean reached out, grabbed Sam and hauled him off the couch. "Sheesh!"
Sam stood looking at him uncertainly for a few moments. Then he grinned. "Okay, for now. But you are going to tell me." He walked away with that too-long-legged lope of his.
Dean reached down to take off his shoes, but it had been such a nice evening, he did not want to spoil his memory of it. He sat back and closed his eyes to replay the events over in his head.
"No! Jess! Noooooooo!"
Dean was on his feet, racing for Sam's bedroom. He could smell the smoke from the hall. In the doorway he felt the heat. Sam was lying on the bed, staring straight up and screaming. When he followed Sam's horrified gaze he saw Jess pinned to the ceiling, nasty bloody gashes through her abdomen, surrounded by flames. Sam was off the bed, trying to get to his girlfriend. Dean saw no use in it; the poor girl had to be dead already. He tried pulling his brother away, but Sam kept moving toward Jess. Dean changed tactics. He shoved one shoulder into Sam's abdomen and hefted his brother up and out of the room. He ran, carrying the gangly weight out of the house, before collapsing on the lawn.
Sam was still screaming for Jess when Dean pulled out his cell and fumbled with the numbers for 9-1-1. He reported the fire and the girl lost inside. Within moments the sleepy university neighborhood was awakened by fire department sirens. Dean kept Sam pinned on the lawn, fearing his brother would race back inside. They watched, helpless, as the firefighters dealt with the blaze. Finally, a senior fireman informed them that the fire was out, but they had been unable to save the woman trapped inside. It was not news to Dean, but Sam took this official proclamation worse than seeing it.
Dean watched as his little brother shut down. All trace of emotion drained away. His deep brown eyes turned cold and lifeless. Dean pulled Sam to his feet. They both answered the fire and police departments' questions mechanically, with detached precision. Dean avoided telling them about Jess pinned to the ceiling, and Sam somehow keyed into that, also neglecting to mention it. The sun was peeking over the horizon when Dean finally stuffed Sam inside his Impala and drove them to a nearby motel.
"We should call somebody," Sam said, sitting on one of the beds.
"Who?" Dean asked. He felt like they should be unpacking, but they both lost all their clothes in the fire. All they had was what they were wearing.
"Mom. Pop." His eyes widened. "Oh, god. Jess' parents."
"You have their number on you?" Dean asked, standing over his little brother, who looked so small right now despite his size.
Sam pulled out his cell, staring at it in disbelief. "I had it because I thought you might call. I…I was worried about you. Because you were out so late."
Dean gently took the cell phone away. "How are they listed in here?"
"Just under Moore." Sam buried his face in his hands. Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze before heading outside. There was no need for Sam to hear this conversation.
When Dean came back in their room, Sam was still in the same position. He was about to say something when he realized that he heard soft snoring. Sam was sleeping sitting up. Dean would have laughed had this been a normal day, but it was anything but a normal day. Once again he fingered the letter in his jacket pocket. It did not sound so crazy now. It was anything but impossible. He had seen it with his own eyes. He would have to show it to Sam, but not right now. Right now there were mundane things to deal with, like grieving family and friends, and a funeral.
Dean stood at Sam's right elbow while Mikey stood at his left. Mikey, nearly eighteen, stood only an inch or so shorter than Dean but outweighed them both. He was a guard on his high school football team and had been approached by numerous college scouts. The boy would be going to college on a football scholarship.
The preacher droned on about how tragic it seemed to lose such a young life that held so much promise, but the words washed past Dean. The letter in his pocket held his focus. He would have to tell Sam soon. Sam looked unsteady as they lowered the casket into the ground. Dean put a hand on his arm and noticed Mikey doing the same. They exchanged a knowing look. Dean gave him a nod, indicating he agreed not to leave Sam alone.
After the funeral some of Sam's friends tried to approach, to talk to him, but Dean shadowed his steps and Mikey performed his guard duties admirably. They knew Sam, knew he would not want to discuss anything right now, knew he needed some time. Dean watched Sam say his private goodbye to her marble marker. He and Mikey escorted their brother to the Impala. They followed their parents' car back to the motel.
Dean could not find a way to convince Mikey not to stay in the same room with him and Sam without hurting the boy's feelings, so Mikey stayed with them. He realized that Mikey would have to learn about the letter too, because there was no way to do it now without him. And Dean was certain he could not wait any longer.
"Sam," Dean said gently, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder to distract him from the fascinating wallpaper. "Do you remember what you saw? What really happened to her?"
Mikey frowned from his position opposite Sam. Dean decided to ignore it as long as the kid did not interrupt.
"It isn't possible," Sam whispered, his voice shaking. "She..she was…"
"On the ceiling," Dean finished for him, pulling out the crumpled letter.
"Do what?" Mikey's voice was too loud. This was starting to scare him.
Dean handed Sam the letter and moved to sit next to Mikey. He bumped shoulders with the youngest brother, trying to reassure him. Dean watched Sam's face carefully as the bereaved man read the letter.
"This can't be," he whispered.
"That's what I thought, but…after Jess." Dean shrugged.
"What can't be?" Mikey demanded, eyes darting between his two brothers.
Sam held out the letter with a shaking hand to Mikey, staring at Dean. "When did you get this?"
Dean considered lying, but he brushed the thought away. "About a month ago."
Sam stared at him while Mikey read the letter. "So that isn't what sent you flying across the country to see me?"
Dean shook his head, eyes dropping to the floor. Now, after all that happened, his nightmare seemed so ridiculous and irrelevant he was embarrassed to tell them.
"Must have been another nightmare," Mikey mumbled from behind the letter.
"Was it?" Sam demanded.
Dean bit his lip and nodded. "It was so real. And," he paused, wondering if he should tell them. Looking at the anguish in Sam's face, he knew he would have to now. He had never told anyone this part before, not their parents, the therapists, or his brothers. No one. "And I saw my mom pinned to the ceiling. The fire started around her body."
Sam's eyes widened. "Our mom?"
"Not Kate," Dean said quickly. "You know I'm adopted."
"We're adopted," Sam said pointedly. Dean noticed Mikey start at that.
"Yeah, our mom," Dean said with a sigh. Apparently Sam heard more the night John Winchester showed up than he admitted at the time.
"So you're saying this crap," Mikey waved the letter at them, "about a demon after Sam, is real?"
Dean looked at the floor. "I think so," he whispered.
"Damn it, Dean!" Mikey punched him in the shoulder. "Stop that!"
Dean looked up to glare at Mikey.
"That's better," Mikey breathed, sparing him a grin. Dean rolled his eyes.
"He went on a date," Sam said, looking at both of them for the first time since leaving for the funeral.
"No way!" Mikey turned to stare at Dean. "Blind date?"
"No!" Dean looked away. "But she's real pretty." He could feel the grin seeping over his face.
"You want to find him, don't you?" Sam asked, cutting through the temporary lightness.
"Well, after what happened, I think I should, don't you?" Dean met Sam's eyes. There was a hollow emptiness there Dean had never seen before. He had felt that himself, but Sam was the one who had always been protected from it by the sheer virtue of his youth. A youth that was long gone now.
"No," Sam said with a shake of his head, "I think we should."
"What about school?" Dean asked, knowing the answer.
"You really think I could concentrate after this? That I even care!" Sam raged on his feet, towering over them.
Dean did not look away. "No. Okay, we'll go."
"What about me?" Mikey demanded.
"You have to finish high school," Dean said, still looking at Sam. Sam's gaze bore into Mikey now as he nodded in agreement.
"I don't like it," Mikey said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I really don't like this. You two can wait a few months for me to graduate."
Dean turned to face his youngest brother. "You say that like you think we'll find him."
Mikey grimaced at both of them. "I know you two. You'll find him. And then you'll find out how to find this demon, or whatever it is." Dean found himself on the receiving end of one of Mikey's patented glares. "And probably go get the both of you killed while I sit around going to pep rallies."
Dean met Sam's gaze. An unspoken agreement passed between them. He turned back to their baby brother. "Mikey, we'll come get you after school is out. We promise."
Mikey leaned back, regarding them both. "Yeah. Right."
"Have either of us ever broken a promise to you, Mikey?" Sam's voice was hard and dark. Dean suppressed a shudder when he heard it. Mikey shook his head slowly. "Then we'll come get you."
A heavy silence hung between them. Often when they all shared a room, there was silence between them, but back then it was the easy silence between people who did not need to talk all the time. This was the strained silence of words needing to be said but no one willing to say them. Dean squirmed on the bed, unable to handle it. The walls were starting to close in. He was just considering how bad it would look if he just left for a quick walk, when Sam spoke.
"I have nightmares, too."
What was that? "What?" But it was Mikey who asked, not Dean. And Dean wanted to hear this.
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Nightmares. I have them too. Sometimes." He shrugged at Dean. "I think I'm starting to understand."
"What are yours about?" Dean asked, perched on the edge of the bed.
Sam looked away, shaking his head. Dean knew better than to press the issue. That always made his nightmares worse. He saw Mikey leaning forward, so he put out a restraining hand. With a simple head shake, Mikey understood not to ask any more.
Dean and Mikey stood, each placing a hand on one of Sam's broad shoulders. "No problem, Sammy. Just remember, we're here."
TBC...